Last night after my fourth performance of “Cinderella Meets Her Fella”, I rushed off-stage with the rest of the cast, feeling incredibly giddy. There is always an adrenaline rush after a performance that seems to come from the cheers and good-will of the audience during a curtain call. In college, as soon as production would finish we would exit the stage, rush out of the theater, down the hall, and wait in the lower art gallery for friends, family, and fans to come through the receiving line.
After I bounced off the stage last night with a bunch of screaming, giggly, little girls I realized that there was no one to meet after the play. It’s not that there was no one to congratulate me and tell me how well I did…there was just no family or friends to cluster around me, take pictures with, and share hugs. It was actually a sad feeling realizing that my parents, sisters, and husband had already all seen the play and now there was no one left I knew to come and see it. It made me realize how supportive my family has always been of my dreams, and how much it meant to me to know they were out there watching me, and would be waiting for me afterward. In college David would come to see me for almost (if not every) single performance and come through the receiving line upwards of ten times just to shake my hand…okay, he had an agenda, but STILL…I did like it!
Anyway, last night just made me love and appreciate them even more. You guys are part of what make my dreams mine. I love you and I’ll miss seeing you out there tonight!
Days like today, I really love my life! I woke up, fed and dressed Robbie and I then headed to work, the bank, lunch with husband, to the newspaper office to get copies of my review, now I’m home resting, and looking forward to hitting the theater this evening. Ahhhh…the blissful life of a happy homemaker. The only thing I’m not looking forward to is getting off the couch and cleaning the house–it’s my own fault, though; it’s not like I haven’t had all week to clean it. That’s the one disadvantage of being a housewife–no one to blame but yourself! Anyway, I did some hunting and found the review of me. You can see it here. Now I had chubby-cheeked little boy who needs some attention along with my messy house.
This morning started out with both Robbie and I feeling cranky and tired, due to the cold we’re getting over. I vainly tried to gather strength for the day by lying in bed a few extra minutes while he banged on the bathroom door upset that his daddy had not invited him into the shower. I just knew this would be a repeat of yesterday full of achy bones, plugged up nose, heavy head, and baby snot all over me. Happily, the day got better, thanks to the couple naps we both got in and lots of tylenol and cough syrup. The icing on the cake, though was when I arrived at the theater for a brush-up rehearsal and I found out that we (i.e. the production) had made it into the paper the last two days! Woohoo! Not only that, the review mentioned me in a flattering way, and in the front page picture yesterday you can even see me in the background…it’s not exactly flattering, but, hey…it’s me live and in color! The article with the review isn’t online yet, but the one with my picture is. You can see it here.
Okay, so it’s been awhile, but this is what my big ten month-old is up to:
He loves exploring the house, which keeps mommy motivated to keep it clean.
Likes feeding himself.
Likes eating enough to let mommy feed him.
Loves playing hide and seek with mommy.
Loves being on Daddy’s shoulders.
Somehow, no matter where we go, he winds up being the center of attention…college graduation, Wal-Mart, church, etc.
Has the sweetest smile and biggest blue eyes ever (and I am NOT making this up…people reaffirm the fact all the time).
Will stand on his tiptoes to play the piano if no one will put him on the piano bench.
Loves crawling to the back door to see Ruble. Ruble feels rather neutral about this…he used to get excited when Robbie would shake his food bag, now he starting to expect disappointment as he realizes that this little guy does not have all the moves mommy and daddy to (i.e. opening the door, handing out cookies, etc.).
Needless to say, my little boy is amazing and I seriously to update more…I don’t want him to just think nothing of interest happened in his first year of life. On the contrary, there’s just so much interest happening ever day with that little man crawling around that I have trouble getting the chance to sit down and record it all. Here’s to making wise times choices as a mommy!
After finding this article online I seriously think that somedays the powers that be at PETA sit around thinking, “Hmmm…we haven’t been in the news lately…Paris Hilton and Britney Spears haven’t been hauling around their overgrown rats lately…Mary-Kate and Ashley haven’t worn furs recently…what outrageous thing can we throw out there just to make sure the world still knows we exist until we can find something ‘legitimate’ to complain about?”
I’m sure that’s how the outrageous proposal in the article written above came about. I would also like to go on record as a nursing mother and say if nursing were easier, faster, and less painful many more mothers would choose that option…however at some time or another almost anyone who has ever breastfed has dealt with one of those issues. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m so stubborn (and poor) I would gladly give Robbie a bottle all the time. However, I am both, therefore it was not until we were back in the hospital watching our precious baby suffer from severe jaundice and dehydration that I realized whether or not I would ever be able to breastfeed was not a big deal and if I had to pump or go bankrupt buying formula, we would do whatever it took to ensure our son would be healthy. Incidentally, about the same time I had that epiphany, Robbie finally caught on to the concept of nursing–my milk coming in also helped. From all I’ve heard about cows, they need to be milked or are in pain. I guess what I really want to know is when did the comfort of a cow outweigh the comfort of a human? I don’t suppose the folks at PETA will be giving me an answer anytime soon…they’re probably to busy trying to concoct another outrageous propoal to dump on the unsupsecting public.
Robbie can roll over! He rolled over for the first time on September 19th while we were having Tummy Time. I was so shocked! I just gasped as I looked at my amazing baby and gushed, “You rolled over! You rolled over! Good boy!”
I galloped to the other room to get my phone and call his daddy who was also thrilled with the news. Then I proceeded through my speed-dial list to give updates to proud parents and aunts while he rolled over three more times. On Saturday I captured a roll on video. Here it is:
Okay, now that I’m a mom some of those things I said I would never do in my carefree, child-free existence suddenly don’t seem so bad anymore…a main one being never letting my children sleep in my bed. I remember saying that vehemently many times while my husband would nod his emphatic agreement. Looking back now, I wonder if I had misguided zeal, OR if my convictions were/are correct and I have merely caved and thrown my convictions out the window when having a few extra minutes of sleep mean much more to me than following through on a zealous “I will never…” In the early morning when I would like to continue my beauty rest (which I need more of these days in order to retain the status quo), or while preparing for a Sunday afternoon coma (a favorite tradition in the Reed household) and Robbie begins to fuss and demand attention, disregarding his own need for sleep in favor of cuddling, I feel as though my former declarations were well-intentioned, but sadly misguided, and into bed with me he comes. In my more wakeful moments (like now), I wonder how I’ve become such a pushover, and vow never to let Robbie into my bed again…until…well…yaaaaaawn…
I found this article today and found it quite interesting because it took an honest look at the question “How much government interference is too much?” And–to my way of thinking–it answered it honestly: bailing out idiots is not the job of the government, Fed, or anyone else. However, this article puts it much more eloquently, so here’s the link:
I remember being in Political Science class in college when we were talking about the biblical role of government: to protect and to punish. At the time I thought this mainly had to do with physical protection, but now considering the issue again, I do believe the government is also well within their rights to protect honest people from dishonest people. So yes, there should be some laws regulating dishonest business practices. What I do wonder is when (and where) did we go wrong as a country and start thinking that government has to take care ofeveryone and everything? Whether honest or dishonest, responsible or irresponsible and not just let people learn a lesson that they can only learn through the harshest (but most persuasive) teacher of all: experience and consequences.
Yesterday Sharathon 2008 started for WOAK 90.9 FM…also known as–David’s place of employment. I wouldn’t say that Sharathon is anybody’s favorite time of year (I think all the begging for money over the radio is a bit embarrassing), but it’s one of those things that comes and goes year after year. I’ll probably get used to it sometime down the road, but as it is now I look on it the same way Robbie looks on his shots (or rather, how he would reflect on them if he could): unpleasant, but necessary. Anyway, since this is Robbie’s first Sharathon, we went down to the station today to see his daddy and give him his first taste of live radio.
Today Robbie got his first shots! He also weighed in at 10 lbs. 6 oz. and is 23 inches longs. I almost cried while he got his shots, but he did pretty good. David held him (I didn’t think I would be able to handle it), and after the nurse stuck him, he let out a wail then cuddled up to his daddy while we both fussed over him. Before either of us had a chance to stop feeling shaky from the ordeal and the nurse got out the lollipops (for David and I, not Robbie), he was well on his way to sleep. Sometimes being a parent can be so traumatic!
