Ta-Tas For Now (Got Boobs?)

 

 

Every woman does, and I have to say - I love mine.  I couldn't wait to get boobs when I was little.  I think I was in second grade the first time I wadded up Kleenex and gave myself a C-cup.  Now that I have real working ones, I have no complaints.  They are far from perfect.  I'm at an age now where I'm starting to learn the gifts of a bra with 'lift,' and Perky hasn't lived here in a decade.  But - these not-perfectly-symmetrical babies have super powers, and so far - they haven't tried to kill me.

(Not me, although I'm a fan of Wonder Woman AND breastfeeding, so...)

I searched the internet for euphemisms for 'breasts' and I got the results listed below, and then some.

Angel cakes - Bonbons - Coffee creamers - Dumplings - Eggplants - Flesh melons - Grapefruits - Honeydews - Jawbreakers - Kumquats - Love muffins - Mangos - Niblets - Oranges - Papayas - Rangoons - Sugar Plums - Tamales - Whoppers - Yams - Zingers

The ones I chose to list were all references to food and there was one for nearly every letter of the alphabet.  Interesting, since my boobs ARE food.  I've been using MY angel cakes to feed my baby for nearly three months, and I'm having a hard time thinking of stopping. 

It's not like I haven't been down this road before.  When we had our first child, I said I'd try it out because I knew it was better for the baby.  But I was raised on formula and felt there was nothing wrong with that, either.  There are not many situations in life where the cheaper option is also the higher quality option, and so with breastfeeding - it's a win, win.  You do learn quickly that life revolves around the pumping/nursing schedule and that lesson can be painful.  When my first daughter was 3 months old, my husband and I were going out one night with friends in Minneapolis, which is about an hour away. I forgot to pump before we left, and ended up bent over a public toilet, squeezing my boobs to relieve the pain and in the hopes I wouldn't lose my milk from sheer stupidity.   So, with all that I learned and put those things through, I thought 6 months was pretty dang good, and stopping didn't seem like a big deal.

I didn't nurse my second daughter nearly as long - only for three weeks.  This was mainly because they were so close in age (15 months) and most days I felt close to a breakdown just getting through the day.  My older daughter wasn't able to understand that I needed to do this for the baby and that I couldn't always give her the attention she craved. Because it was so chaotic, I couldn't pump enough for a full day at daycare, and frankly it was just too hard and I was tired of crying and stressing about it.  We also had a tragic death in the family at the time and the grief added another layer that really made me need to make this one thing in our life more simple. In retrospect, I would've done that differently, since another lesson I learned is that letting your milk go makes hundreds of grief-filled hugs even more painful. 

5 1/2 years later, here's another mouth to feed.  This time, it's different because my daughters are old enough to take notice.  At first, they giggled and stared and asked lots of questions, but now it's 'normal.'  Since I'm not one to flop them out anywhere, no matter who is around (although I support the RIGHT to), it leads to some awkward situations and quick cover-ups when we get unexpected company.  Usually, it's a neighbor kid coming over to play with my daughters, and I'm never sure if they're getting more education than their parents would like!  And, my husband is enjoying his 'party tricks' again.  When we are in public or have friends over, he'll cry like a baby until they swell up and it looks like I'm suddenly sweating -- through my nipple.

Though nursing has been going well, and my son is growing like crazy, I have felt for awhile that he is not quite getting enough from me.  He sleeps less and feeds more often when I'm with him than he does when cared for by others.  He does drink formula also, so it's nice that he'll be able to transition.  But, will he?  He's a smart little guy, and what we've found is that he won't take formula from ME without a strong protest.  He won't even take a bottle of pumped breast milk from me without kicking up a sputtering fuss.  Packaging matters.  It's like if I gave my husband beer in a juice box. 

So, why stop?  We are going on vacation and leaving the baby home.  I could take my pump and do that a few times a day and dump it out so that I keep my milk for when I return and start back where I left off.  That is an option.  But as I said, I don't think he's getting enough and since he'll be three months old, I think it's just fine to stop.  That's the cut-and-dried fact-based decision.  Enter, my emotions.  They are messing everything logical up.  I already had a hard time deciding to leave him behind for this vacation, but that's the subject of another post.  When he was in my belly, I recalled the not-so-convenient things about breastfeeding and pumping and told myself I would give it another shot, but if it didn't work with this busy life - so be it. I did not expect the decision to stop to be so emotional.

The thing is, this is my last baby.  Every 'next step' is going to be more difficult to take.  I kept him in newborn clothes as long as they'd stretch over him.  I know that getting up with him in the middle of the night is short-term in the grand scheme of life.  It's so sweet and quiet, and it's time I get to spend with just him.  He holds my hand or rests his hand on my breast and we are as close as we will ever be.  We both sigh when he latches on, as if this is just what we've been been waiting for.  It's beautiful and it's natural and it's wonderful.  How soon is too soon to stop?  How long is too long to go?  It's subjective.  But I do have to break it off at some point.  I don't think this will be appropriate at his first junior high school dance.

The irony is not lost on me that this is also Breast Cancer Awareness month, and that fact plays on my emotions as well.  I have two healthy breasts.  Shouldn't I use them to their full capacity?  We are very involved with this cause at work, and for the past several years I have been recording the stories of local breast cancer survivors in order to create awareness and raise donations to the local breast center.  The other day, I met and talked with a woman who is in Stage 4 Breast Cancer.  This is her second round.  This time, it has metastasized to her liver, kidney, bones, and brain.  She still has hope, but she is dying.  Her breasts are killing her, at the same time mine are giving life.  I'm worried about the convenience of feedings, and she wonders if she'll live to see her kids walk down the aisle and witness the birth of a grandchild.  After nurturing my three children with my breasts, I can understand - as much as someone who hasn't had breast cancer can - how women are emotionally attached and have a hard time making the decision to remove theirs to save their own life, when that's an option.  By the way, if you're reading this and have boobs of your own, DO YOUR SELF EXAM AND GET A MAMMOGRAM, DAMNIT!  People love you!

I hope I never have to learn the painful lesson that it's not my breasts that make me a good mother, daughter, wife, and friend. If I couldn't use them or didn't have them, I know I would still be all of those things.  Fortunately, so far, I have not had a health reason make this far less drastic, but still big, decision for me.  I have to make it myself and be okay with it.  Should I choose not to nurse my son anymore, I have to tell myself that I am still a good mom.

I think I just talked myself into finding room in my suitcase for my pump.  Even if I don't use it, at least the option is there.  I don't want to spend my whole vacation crying that I'm not only missing my baby, but that I'm also depriving him of nature's goodness!

So, I guess it's TTFN - Ta-Tas For Now!  Soon enough, I will let go of the real purpose for these things on my chest, know they have done their duty, and let them have a nice retirement.  They can devote themselves to their leisure activities: getting me out of traffic tickets and making my husband forget I just spent another $100 at Kohls.

 

Mother Runners

I don't want this to turn into a weight loss blog because it's too much pressure.  In any case, it is part of my life now and over this past weekend these "steps" to losing weight have evolved into - gasp - running.

Let me just say, I HATE RUNNING.  If you see me running, it's a good bet that something scary is chasing me or I am going to miss my plane.  When I was in school and we had to run the mile, I somehow managed to get a note from my doctor excusing me from doing it.  I sat on the bench and watched those other suckers huff and puff around the track.  I felt it was less humiliating than coming in last.  Back in school I was a small girl, but far from physically fit.  I ate junk food and didn't exercise, and it was only when I got to my late 20's that this started to catch up to me.  Being in radio gave me a crazy schedule, a weird diet, and a larger intake of alcohol than ever before.  The drinky-poos may have finally been the thing that brought on the bloat.  Or, it could have been the fact that my drinks of choice were Sex On The Beach, Colorado Bulldogs, and Mudslides.  Not exactly "Skinny Girl" cocktails.

I hear there is a runner's high once you get past a certain point.  I have yet to glimpse that.  I can understand the sense of accomplishment when you start running further distances.  Kind of how I will feel when I can zip some of my jackets again.  SO many moms are taking up the running trend, and taking it further (and crazier) by participating in Mud Runs with obstacle courses and of course - mud.  Lots of it.  I've seen pictures from a color run, where apparently you run across puddles with color in it that splashes all over you.  I don't know if this is supposed to make running more appealing, or just give you physical evidence that you did it, but whatever works!  If it would help, I'd start one of my own, where you attach a pole with a string over your head and have Taco Bell dangling in front of your face.  But I don't think too many people would sign up for the Mexican food runs... 

Anyhoo... The reason I started running over the weekend was just to save time.  My trainer at Rejuv Medical told me she was assigning me just cardio until our next session, no weight training.  Hubby and I had to work opposite schedules quite a bit this weekend, so rather than waste time driving across town to get on a machine at the gym where I'd be doing nearly the same thing, I decided to just hit the pavement and see how far I got.

My 7-year-old daughter saw me putting on my tennis shoes, asked what I was doing, and immediately wanted to come with me.  I had been looking forward to listening to some music and having my thoughts (I hate this, I hate this, I hate this) to myself.  But she was so excited, I couldn't turn her down.  She did great, and it actually made the run sort of fun because she distracted me with her excited little girl chatter.  She asked why exercise is good for you, asked about how the leaves change color, and pointed out every squirrel that scurried by.  One run down.

The next day, my 7-year-old, my 5 1/2-year-old AND our 6-year-old neighbor girl wanted to come with me.  There is a reason you don't see serious runners have children trailing after them.  My 7-year-old decided to be Narrator of the run.  "Look at my mom running.  She needs to get exercise.  My mom is embarrassed right now.  My mom loves the color turquoise.  My mom didn't want to take the dog with because she thinks he would want to chase squirrels.  My mom still has kind of a big tummy because my brother was in there for so long."  My 5 1/2-year-old wanted to hold hands with me and although on any other given day she has more energy than I have in a week, she pooped out about a half a block into it and would only walk.  The neighbor girl stopped abruptly in front of me and bent over to look at a dead worm.  I almost plowed us both over and stopped myself from exclaiming something that sounds similar to "mother runner!"  It wasn't much of a run, but it was an adventure, and we eventually made it around the loop. 

I haven't given up.

The Weight Of The World

When my first baby was born, I loved her more than the universe.  

(Not my actual baby.)

What I didn't realize was, by making her my world - I put myself way out in orbit.  I felt like everything I did had to be centered around her, always, and if I spent time or money on things just for me, I was being selfish.  Pretty soon, I was like a vacant house.  My body became overgrown, my hair went untended, and the only thing that I cultivated was resentment.  Overall, I just felt stuck.  Baby #2 didn't help things.  Life was becoming a blur, and although I wanted to find joy and I loved my husband and our daughters, I felt like a drudge.  My job is to be funny and know what's going on in the world, and although parenting gave me plenty of funny poop-on-my-shirt stories, those only go so far. 
 

Over the last couple of years, it was like I found myself again.  I gave myself permission to just be 'Amy' sometimes.  I am still home a lot, but I have a better balance.  Having another baby hasn't had the same effect that my other babies did.  (My hair isn't looking all that great lately, but I guess something's gotta give when you get up between 3 and 4am for work and have 3 kids.)  The point is, I'm more relaxed now, I spend time with friends, and have actual grown-up shows that I watch and occasionally I go out and stay out past 9pm. 

Yesterday, I went to the gym for the first time since my baby boy was born.  This is something that isn't easy to fit into my schedule, but I know I need to do it for myself.  Now that the baby factory is closed for good (sorry, Grandmas!), I really want to get in shape and stay that way.  I'm not the heaviest person in the world, but I know when I'm uncomfortable in my own skin.  My personality changes and my self-confidence plummets.  I try not to make a big deal about it because I don't want my little girls to develop body image issues.  But it's not very fun when they ask me if I have another baby in my tummy!

 

While I was there, two older ladies chatted with me while we were on treadmills, telling me how great they think it is that I'm ALREADY working out since having my baby.  At first, this was just a nice distraction from the timer on the display and my huge fear of treadmills.  (I swear, I'm going to trip and fly off the back!)  But then, it was amazing to talk with them and have them validating what I was doing.  For one of them, this was the first time she had worked out in 16 YEARS.  And they also told me how much they applauded me taking the time for myself to do it while my children are young.  They both told me stories about how many years they went without taking care of themselves, and how they wished they could go back and do it all over.  This is in contrast to another older woman that I met last year.  I'll never forget her sad look as she told me her husband is away a lot for work, her son was grown and had moved out, and she didn't really have any girlfriends - just her cat.  She said everything she did, she did for her son while she was raising him and never developed friendships or hobbies.  As much as the kids are the center of my world now, someday they will move on with their own lives.  I will always love them more than the universe, but I don't want to be left behind without a life of my own that's full and satisfying.  I felt so great after talking with these ladies at the gym, it was like I'd already lost 10 pounds. (I wish!) 

 

 

M.O.M. Squad

When people refer to moms who can 'do it all,' they picture this:

When in fact, it's more like this:

I truly believe that M.O.M. stands for Master Of Multitasking. This thought came to me before bed the other night as I was washing my face with one of those pre-moistened cloths (who has time for ACTUAL water?), while simultaneously swishing mouthwash, and peeing. Yes - all at the same time. You're welcome for the visual.  For me, it's really my own fault when I don't get things accomplished.  I am a great multi-TASKer, not a great multi-FINISHer.  Maybe this is because sometimes I'm juggling Words With Friends and Facebook, but at any rate - there's a lack of focus on my part.  I have good intentions, though.  I START many tasks in the time I'm home after work while my daughters are in school. 

I begin by getting a load of laundry out of the dryer to fold. Then, maybe I'll get a text from a friend, so I reply.  Then I make a snack, and think to myself that I should really get a chalkboard for the pantry so I can keep a list of groceries we need.  So, I hop online to shop for chalkboards.  While I'm thinking about a possible purchase, I feel a stray eyebrow hair.  I go to the bathroom to pluck it, and notice the TP supply is low.  I get a roll, let the dog out, see my phone on the counter and check my texts, and check my emails.  I do some work that one of my emails asks me to do, and then go get my snack where I left it - in the microwave.  I re-nuke and eat the snack, go to the garage fridge to get a soda, and notice that the kids left their toys where they can get run over.  So, I pick up the toys, and it dawns on me that the dog ran off.  I stand outside and yell for him until he comes back, and then the baby starts crying.  I change the baby and feed him and we make faces at each other for awhile.  Then the older kids are home from school and I've accomplished nothing.  Notice, I never got back to that laundry, half of which is still in the basket getting wrinkled, and the other half that had been folded was just walked on and knocked over by the dog, who got excited that the girls walked in.  Suddenly, I feel exhausted after being up at night with the baby and working early in the morning.  So I get mad at myself and think - if I wasn't going to accomplish anything anyway, then why didn't I sleep while the baby was sleeping? Now, it's too late.

Somehow, even with all of the things we're juggling - even the stuff we don't need to be that we pile on ourselves - we get it done.  Appointments are made and bills are paid (mostly).  At some point, laundry DOES get done and food gets in bellies.  We're the homework helpers and the RSVP-ers, the boo-boo kissers and the butt-wipers.  And that's why we're the superheroes known as - The M.O.M. Squad.

Now, if I could just remember to take meat out of the freezer once in awhile, I would be invincible.

Morning Drive

"Morning Drive" is the term used to refer to the time of day when people are getting up, getting ready for and driving to work and listening to the radio at the same time.  It is quite a challenge to be the choice for people to literally wake up to each day and we hope to make people do the exact opposite of that nasty little button on their alarm clock.  Working on a morning show is often a sought-after position, and I consider myself extremely lucky to have been working mornings for most of the time I've been in radio.  I chalk this up not so much to my radio brilliance, but more the fact that I like to have a conversation and respond to what someone else says, rather than be on the air by myself.  There is a real art to mastering either type of format, and a multi-person show is my comfort zone.  Also, I luckily discovered early on that if you make a mistake and you stumble and freeze or act ashamed - people will have a low tolerance and think you're ditzy and terrible, especially if you're a woman.  But, if you make a mistake and can make fun of yourself, people are much more forgiving and relate to you as a normal human being. 

Working Morning Drive has required several personal adjustments throughout the years as my life has changed.  I worked mornings right out of broadcasting school and had to learn the basics, including the fact that there was, in fact, a 4:30 IN THE MORNING.  Then, I worked with someone who really didn't want me as their partner, but management made them.  THAT was a brutal couple of years.  Then I worked in Minneapolis and was a producer/third mic on a show that taught me SO much about doing morning radio that it was an invaluable experience, and to this day I think back to things I learned there.  Finally, I was ready to go back to being co-host and producer of my own show, but that required a different way of working because my partner was my boyfriend of 2 years.  At first, we did not reveal that we were in a relationship because we didn't want anyone's professionalism questioned.  Behind the scenes, and after our audience knew we were a couple, we had to set personal and professional boundaries.  And of course, we had to be able to poke fun at each other without actually hurting each others' feelings.  We have had some not-so-great moments, but for the most part it has been incredibly fun and now I can't imagine working with someone that I WASN'T that close to.

Nine years , a wedding, and three children later - here we still are!  Children brought a whole new challenge to this job.  The biggest thing we had to figure out was childcare so early in the morning.  When we had our oldest daughter, we had someone come into our home in the mornings and then I would work from home the remainder of the day.  We were soon expecting a second child, and things were too chaotic (I couldn't get my work done) and expensive for home childcare.  We were extremely lucky to find a daycare that opened early that could take both of the girls.  The six years we have spent getting our girls up at 4:30am, bundling them up over their pajamas in cold weather, and driving them across town to daycare are precious memories for me.  It was insane, but it was our life, and we loved it.  My kids went from cooing to conversations about what boys they have crushes on.  (In fact, I started a facebook page dedicated to the things they said, often on this drive, just so I could look back and remember those moments:  Sh!t My Daughters Say.)  After the chaos of getting out the door each day, there were questions and answers about the stars and the moon, singing to favorite songs, or sometimes just watching their sleepy little faces eat a "gorilla" (granola) bar.  This was our own, private "Morning Drive" show and I couldn't imagine anything different.  It was starting to wear on us, though, and when we saw THIS on many mornings, we started thinking there must be a better way. 

Yes, the microwave says 4:50am, and our daughter is sleeping where we set her on the kitchen counter. I turned around to get her a snack and her coat and boots, and she fell right back asleep.

And in truth, there were times I wondered if it was worth it.  Was I being selfish putting my kids through this just to keep doing this job?  I love what I do, but I love my kids more.  Not only do I not even know what else I would want to do now, I don't know what I could do.  I shouldn't say that.  I know I CAN do anything, but it would require more schooling, etc.  I have an associate degree in broadcasting, and that's it.  This is what I know.  But thoughts kept running through my head, wondering if I shouldn't find a new path.  Is what I do even important?  I don't help sick people.  I don't build things.  I don't teach, which is the one other profession I've aspired to do.  I started discounting my job as being paid to 'goof off' and sell advertising, and I was beating myself up for putting it before my family.  But when people that listen to the show would call or email or I would talk to them at events, I started realizing it did matter to them.  A lot.  I am the one informing them about what's happening around in our community and I was THEIR escape from the daily grind every day.  I couldn't believe how much it meant to them to have that.  It made me realize that although I'm not curing diseases, people want to connect with others emotionally and have a reason to laugh.  Grown-ups, contrary to the popular belief of children, cannot do whatever they want.  They have jobs and bills and stress in their relationships and I realized that I was filling a need to give them temporary relief from all of that.  I read a statistic, which I have not verified, but since I've spent considerable time with humans I don't doubt it's true - that children laugh an average of 140 times a day.  Adults - 6.  So I do consider it my job to raise that number.  And since laughter is the best medicine, maybe I'm helping to save people after all.  So amongst all of the craziness of juggling family and work, I had this self-doubt to muddle through and luckily decided I can have this career, that it is important, AND at the same time raise good, healthy, resilient kids.

Then, our oldest daughter started school.  We started thinking about how it would be better for her to get more sleep instead of being interrupted by this drive across down.  And I struggled with a lot of guilt about not being the one doing her hair and sending her off each morning.  No matter how many times I told myself that I was available to pick her up after school when a lot of parents had to work and put their kids in Kid Stop, I still felt bad.  We tried changing to a home childcare situation, but it didn't work out and they went back to daycare.  And really, she did very well and our daycare lady was incredible.  She was like a second mom to them for so long that keeping the old routine was best, and our daughter did thrive in school.

This year, 2012, has brought big changes.  We moved into a new house, and had a baby boy this summer and our youngest daughter would be starting kindergarten in the fall.  We thought how nice it would be for the girls to go to school near their neighborhood friends instead of to the school near our daycare.  We would have to pay for busing if we stayed at daycare (don't even get me STARTED on that) and not from our home to the school close to it.  The in-home care conversation continued, and we did more to get the word out and advertise the job in order to find the right person that we could trust and would do a good job, and that we could hopefully afford.  It was extremely heartbreaking to leave our long-time daycare and I shed a lot of tears over it, wondering if we did the right thing.  There would really be no way to know until we were in the trenches, and once we committed to the school registration, etc. - we had to hope for the best.  We literally didn't have a way to get the kids off to school if it didn't work.

Lo and behold, we gave notice to our daycare and had hired a girl to nanny.  We had asked her specifically if she was still looking for full-time work and for her to assure us she would give us a solid commitment through the school year.  She assured me she was not still looking for work and was all in, so the day before our little boy was born I registered the girls for their new school.  And then, three weeks after he was born, and two DAYS before the girls' last day at daycare - she dropped the bomb on me that she accepted a full-time job and was quitting us before she even started.  So I spent the last three weeks of maternity leave with all three children home, the house in chaos, and in a frantic search for a replacement.  I hoped I wouldn't have to crawl back to my daycare lady since it would have been the second time we tried another option and had to go back.  But, if I had to in order for them to have good care, I would have.  You know how people say 'everything happens for a reason,' and when you're in the middle of shit hitting the fan all around you, that's the last thing you want to hear?  Well, in this case - it was true.  I do feel we made a mis-hire with the first girl, especially after seeing how we hit the jackpot with our current nanny.  She is truly a Godsend and we are so thankful to have her!

Now, school has been in session for 2 weeks, and I've been back at work, too, and we are settled into a new routine.  The kids are in the care of an amazing young woman who obviously loves children and already cares about mine. Weirdly, we have known she and her mother, though neither of them really well, for quite some time.  Her mom actually had been suggesting she babysit for my kids back when she was a teenager.  But I didn't know them well, so I never made the call.  She applied not knowing the family she would be working for, and it was crazy how it all came together.  We're finally breathing easier, confident it will be a great situation for years to come.  (Or else, she knows I'll tattle on her to her mom.  Kidding!) The girls MOSTLY listen to her as she gets them fed and dressed and off to school.  She texts me pictures of the girls and our baby boy while I'm at work so I know how things are going.  And, she has been doing all of these lovely extra things to keep the house clean, and THAT is phenomenal.  I get to come home and can snuggle with my baby or keep working without feeling guilty about the housework, and even sometimes catch a nap!  Our household is already less chaotic and stressful because everyone is getting more sleep (other than baby feedings for me).  There isn't all this running, and I honestly want to pinch myself that things get to stay this way.  I couldn't even tell you the number of times that I forgot my daughter's glasses, or backpack, or CLOTHES in the rush out the door to daycare, and I don't have to worry about that anymore.  I miss my Morning Drive with them terribly, but now I have more drive in my morning!

Oh, Boy! Getting ahead of myself.

My baby boy smiles at me now.  I'm not sure if there is a greater reward in life than the pure, unabashed joy of a baby smiling just at the sight of your face.  It makes me so incredibly happy that we decided to take the leap and have one more child.  I have loved raising my girls, obviously, and they bring me joy every day.  But this little boy has a strangle-hold on my heart that I never expected. 

I told Matt when we found out we were having a boy that I just hope I raise him in a way that if he's ever on TV he will say "Hi" to me.  We had been watching the state high school hockey tournament when I made that comment.  After having two children already, I'm highly aware that you don't just 'have a BABY.'  You have a human being that you have to raise through many, many stages, and the baby part is over quickly.  Then, before you know it, they are talking back and have a will of their own.  I haven't gotten to the teenage years yet, and the thought of a teenage boy in the house was such a foreign idea!  Will he mope around and not talk to me, talk back to me, be crazy and reckless?  Maybe all of the above.  (This was while he was still in my belly, so I realize I was getting a little ahead of myself.)  So I watched these boys playing hockey, trying to get my mind around raising a boy and all that it would mean.  They would skate into their lineup before the game, and look into the camera.  Most of them said, "Hi, Mom!"  Others didn't, and even though there may not be any big reason for it, I felt so bad for those moms. 

Now I can't wait for every moment, and even though he's not even two months old I keep wanting to drag my heels into the dirt and make time slowww down.  I know only too well how fleeting this time is, and knowing it's likely our last kid makes me want to hold on tight to his babyness.  Night feedings and being back to work make me tired like any mom, but it really is the sweetest time in the world.  I love the quiet.  It's the only time our house IS quiet, and I hold him and dance with him without any music.  I feel his sweet breath on my neck and hold his little butt at my chest until he's humming and sound asleep.  I feel sad thinking that in a blink we'll be dancing at his wedding and someone else will take care of him.  And then I think, if that bitch hurts my son, she will have a fiery wrath come down on her the likes of which she has never seen. 

Here we go!

I should probably take up jogging, but today - it's blogging.

Whenever anyone has asked what I like to do, or what I dream of doing one day, my answer has been 'to write.'  However, I'm not so great in the follow-through department, and it has taken me years of saying I write to actually write this - my first blog post.

The title of the blog is a tribute to my two lives.  I am the co-host of a morning radio show.  My husband is my co-host.  More on that later.  'Marconi' is for the first scientist, Guglielmo Marconi, to achieve successful radio transmission.  (If there's any kind of transmission to be famous for, I guess that would be the one to shoot for.)   

I'm also a mom.  Mother of three, as of late.  As a mother, I am constantly telling my kids to "say cheese!"  In my job I say a lot of cheesy jokes.  As a mom, a DJ on the go, and as a plain old lazy cook, I also make lots and lots and lots of -- you guessed it.  And like the comfort food, our show aims to be "comfort radio."  We want our audience to feel like they're hanging out with friends.

I have a few reasons for feeling the need to blog all about it.  I want to keep record of raising my kids because they're the sweetest and funniest beings on the planet and it would be sad to forget the fundamental hilarities that will make them who they are.  And, I just think life is too short not to laugh at it.  Humor is essential to keeping the sanity in my marriage, job, and raising kids.  I'd also like to show my kids that if you really love to do something, you should do it.  It doesn't need to be recognized for greatness or make you money.  If I'm the only one who actually ever reads what I write, I will still so enjoy reading back on it.

So welcome to my little blog.  Hope you enjoy, but if you don't, that's alright.  There are always cat videos.

Amy