"Baby wants what Baby wants when Baby wants it...

and it's your job, as parents, to figure out what that is."

These were words that my oldest sister said too me the other day on the phone when I called in tears because I wasn't sure I was doing the right things for JP.  I was concerned that he wasn't getting enough visual stimulation, or tummy time, or awake time, or sleep time, or, or, or...I mean, come on, let's get real.  What FTM (First Time Mom) *doesn't* worry about these things?  Do I *truly* believe that I am going to somehow emotionally, mentally, physiologically, or educationally disable my child?  Of course not, but as a FTM I want to make sure I'm doing the right things for him.  

These words have stuck with me.  Her following statement of "try this, try that, and try other things, then if that doesn't work put him in the car and go for a drive.  Give him a change of scenery, sometimes that's all they need" have stuck with me as well.  It's true.  nothing is going to work the same way twice.  Sure, the "5 S's" (Swaddle, Side, Swing, Shush, Suck) are proving to be *extremely* useful and work about 90-95% of the time, so it's that tricky 5% that we have to try everything else.

Is he hot...undress him.

That didn't work...

Is he cold?  Dress him again.

That didn't work either...damn...
 


Change the diaper...offer him food...employ the 5 S's...walk around...sing...jiggle...put in swing...take out of swing...give him a pacifier...give him a bath ...go outside...come inside...turn him over to other parent...leave him alone...pick him back up...try to snuggle in bed...try to snuggle in the chair...try...try...try...

The calm after the cranky

The bright spot too it all?  SOMETHING *will* eventually work and we will have tamed the savage beast for the moment.  This morning when he was cranky from 4-630am it took Tim turning him over to me around 545, I plopped him into his swing which worked for about 20minutes.  He then started fussin' again so I swaddled his tiny hiney as tightly as I could, held him as tightly as I could, jiggled him as "vigorously" as I could while "SHHHHHHH!"-ing right in his ear and within moments he relaxed and within minutes he gave me the contented sigh.  I then maneuvered both of us into the chair, covered us up with blankets, positioned the pillows and we both slept.

For half an hour.  *laugh*

He then woke up because he was hungry, which I had anticipated before drifting off so it was okay.  I fed, burped, and changed him, then we both fell back asleep until 9am.  Successful mommy moment.  Then this afternoon after his 2o'clock bottle, he wanted to be cranky and the only thing that worked was holding him up on my shoulder, patting his back, while bouncing up and down and "shhhh!"-ing in his ear.  He then quickly let me know, after I put him down to give myself a break, that the ONLY PLACE he wanted to be was on my chest and so up again he went.  He was gracious enough to give me enough time in his bassinet to go upstairs and grab some food and scarf about half of it down before he started grumbling, saying too me "Hey.  Mom.  I want to snuggle...NOW!" *laugh*  And so here we sit, finally.  He is sleeping comfortably on my chest and I am enjoying all the wonderful smells and sounds that go along with that and wondering what will work the next time he gets cranky.

Only JP knows, and he's not tellin' anyone...at least not yet. ;)    

Dear Mayor Bloomberg, got formula?

So an old friend of mine facebooked me today asking if we have decided on what variety of formula we are going to use to feed JP because she has some "formula checks" that she'd like to mail me.  She is what, in the pregnant/mom world, is called an "EBF mom".  EBF stands for "Exclusively Breast Feeding".  I, on the other hand am an "EFF mom", which stands for "Exclusively Formula Feeding".  

For the sake of igniting any controversy for those of you who aren't aware, I can NOT breast feed.  Notice I did not say "I don't want too".  I mean it when I say I.Can.Not.  I battled Triple Negative Breast Cancer from May of 2010 through October of 2010 in which the end result was a double mastectomy where *ALL* of my breast tissue was removed and replaced with silicone implants.  And when I say all, I mean ALL, nipples included.  So, unless my child can puncture himself a hole in my boob & ingest silicone, which I find *highly* unlikely, breast feeding ain't gonna happen for this mommy-to-be.

But I digress...

 I'm on facebook responding to her post when the idea strikes me to toodle on over to the pregnancy discussion board I frequent and put it out there..."EBF moms; got formula checks?"  I have received numerous responses so far in the positive, and one gal mentioned the whole NYC/Mayor Bloomberg "Latch on NYC" debaucle, er, debate.  While I don't think me writing a letter directly to him, seeing as I live in the Midwest, would do a darn thing, I did think that putting my thoughts about *that* ridiculousness down here could be...interesting.

So here it is...my thoughts on the "Banning of Formula in NYC hospitals"...


On behalf of all cancer survivors who also survived a double mastectomy, thus having their ability to breast feed taken away from them, and also on behalf of ALL the women out there who for one reason or another can not or choose not to breast feed, I write this for you, for me, and for us.  

Dear Mayor Bloomberg,


With what little information I have read about this "campaign", and from what I understand it is *completely* and *utterly* despicable that a MAN, sitting in an ivory tower should be dictating what WE, as women, should do with our breasts when it comes to the feeding of the child WE CARRIED FOR NINE MONTHS IN OUR BODIES.  

Our boy, 31weeks

I ask you, Mayor Bloomberg, did you create one of life's greatest miracles inside of you?  Did you carry this child for 9 months of "bliss" (let's get real ladies, it's not all peaches and cream is it), then push it out an opening that can't seem to *possibly* be big enough and is usually accompanied with great pain before, during, and after?  Did you gain 20-50lbs of extra weight growing this miracle, and watch your once familiar body turn into something out of an alien syfy movie?  I don't think so.

Our boy, 30weeks

Did you, Mayor Bloomberg, worry and obsess over every little thing you ate or drank, the air you breathed, the medicine you took, or the product you put on your body for 9 months?  Did you give up a beloved glass of wine in order to make sure this little miracle got the best start possible?  Did you research all the different types of bottles, pumps, diapers, wipes, pacifiers, toys, teethers, carseats, strollers, creams, ointments, boppy's, bumbo's, sound machines, bassinet's, and pack 'n plays till you were so cross-eyed you didn't know which way was up?  Somehow I doubt it.

Our boy, 21weeks

Did you then, Mayor Bloomberg, struggle with the decision of whether or not to breast feed?  Did you do the countless hours of research on the subject, then spend countless hours researching formula?  Did you spend sleepless nights worrying about whether or not you'd be able too, and if you couldn't produce enough milk for your child would everyone think you were a failure?  Would you think that of yourself?  Did you spend your days enduring the Spanish Inquisition from women in all areas of your life "Are you gonna breast feed?  Are you gonna breast feed?  Huh?Huh?Huh?!?!", then goodness forbid you say *No* because then the question turns into "Why not? WHY?WHY?WHY?!"

Send off party for the girls

*Or*, here's another one for you to ponder oh great and wonderful Mayor of NYC.  Did you battle breast cancer, endure chemo, lose your hair, lose your sense of self, and take a genetic test that came back to tell you that you were going to have to undergo a double mastectomy, which in case you aren't in the know means the *total* removal of both of your breasts.  And when I say *total removal* I mean it.  Everything.  Done.  Gone.  All milk ducts, all breast tissue, even your nipples.  So not only have you now undergone a massive life changing sickness, and a complete and total body-altering surgery, you have now had the choice of whether or not to breast feed completely and totally taken away from you.  You no longer HAVE a choice.  You HAVE to formula feed.

At chemo

Do you know, Mayor Bloomberg, what that does to a woman?  Do you know the thoughts that went through my brain the day I got the call from my Oncologists office and the words "The test came back positive" entered my brain?  Here were a few...

After the mastectomy, 10/15/10

"Will I still be a woman without breasts?"
"Will it hurt when they take them away and then give them back?"
"Will I be okay?"
"Will this ensure the cancer never comes back"
and the ever fabulous...
"Will my husband ever look at me in the same way"
and
"How am I going to bond with my baby when that time comes and ensure he or she gets the best start in life..."





and then I cried.  I cried out of fear, out of shame, and out of heartbreak for a child that wasn't even a twinkle in my eye yet.  I cried for my breasts who had already been through so much and who now were a "danger to my life" and had to be removed to save mine.  I cried over the fact that I wasn't going to be able to do the *one* basic thing that these "girls" were intended for...to nourish my child with nature's most perfect formula...Breast Milk.

5th wedding anniversary spent at Chemo

You see, Mayor Bloomberg, in my opinion, you are essentially doing the same thing to the women of your great state, that the cancer did too me.  YOU, my dear sir, are taking THEIR CHOICE away from them.  Oh I know, if they can provide a "medical reason" then the nurses can whip out their magic key, unlock the closet, and produce the formula their baby will so desperately need.  I know, also, that you are not talking about women like me who literally can NOT breastfeed, no matter how much we may want too.  It is simply a physical inability.  Yet, do you realize the message you are sending?  You are basically saying that there is something WRONG with those of us who either can not or choose not to breastfeed.  


You.  A Man.  Mmm-hmm, yeah, excuse me while I have a good chuckle at that...

Our boy, 15weeks

I mean, really.  Who are you to tell women what they can and can not do in deciding *how*
to feed their newborn?  Of course breast feeding is best, but shouldn't that be something that is decided upon by her and her significant other?  And why "lecture" the new mother on the benefits of breastfeeding before unlocking the cabinet?  Don't you think that's going to be a little harsh on the emotional psyche of a woman who has just been through 9 months of pregnancy and goodness knows how many hours of labor to push something the size of a watermelon out of a hole that's not near as big??  She may already be feeling down about not breast feeding, but seeing as you most likely don't live her life, you don't know WHY she has chosen not too.  Don't beat her over the head about it, just give her the damn formula and wish her well with her new bundle of joy.

And I ask you, what's next?  The government is already trying to regulate our uterus's and our choices regarding birth control, so what's next?  Are you going to ban epidurals because having a "natural, unmedicated birth" is better for the baby?  Riiiight...how about *you* try pushing a watermelon out your pee hole, *then* we'll talk about the benefits of an "natural birth" versus a "medicated birth". 


Look.  It's your city, you do what you want, you've already banned smoking in parks, and large sizes of sugary drinks, and I refuse to read all the particulars of your "initiative" because it would be time wasted out of my busy life that I could never regain.  I'm also in the Midwest so this, at least right now, isn't going to affect me and honestly, I eagerly anticipate the "swag bag" from my hospital that will set me and our little boy on the right path towards healthful nutrition.  I just hope you take a second to think about what message you're TRULY sending to the women of your great city because *we're* not wrong, your message is wrong.

Think about it.


Sincerely,


A Proud EFF Mom-to-be

Our little boy, 31weeks

A room for our boy...

24weeks

So I made a plan and I stuck with it.  I wanted to have his room done by the end of this week and I wrapped it all up on Thursday!  Reason being this was my full week off from everything, school, Drum Line, GC; everything.  Now I can focus on enjoying my summer, saving money for the stroller/travel system, sitting by the pool, getting my Drum Line ready to go, and taking naps.  Good times :)  So enjoy what I've done for our baby boy!  I hope he likes it when he can finally appreciate it.  ;)

Convertible Crib & Changer to double as clothing storage as well

Tim's grandmother's rocker & new dresser.  Redid the lamp

DH's old shadow box boat made new!

Shelving unit with fabric baskets for books, toys, & whatnot

Letters painted. Big J, and big P going above his crib but I had already bought these so figured I'd use them!

 

Oh Boy, it's a BOY!

Thursday May 10th we went for our anatomy and gender scan and boy was I excited!!!  I told myself I would leave school by 1:15 to get to the appointment about ten minutes early and it took ALL of my flippin' willpower to stay there that long!  Eek!!  *Finally* the clock showed 1:15 and I ran outta there so fast I'm not sure if the door closed behind me or not *laugh*.

I arrived at the doctor's office before Tim and got myself checked in.  He arrived moments before our sonogram tech called us back for the fun to begin :)  She got me situated, put the warm gel on my belly, and as soon as she touched down we were greeted with our boy!!!

It's a Boy!

I started crying in joy, the sonogram gave a sigh of relief that she hadn't been wrong at the previous appt *laugh*, and Tim was Tim...quietly estactic.  

He's got Tim's legs, I can tell already

Our gal then went on to measure all his pieces and parts, check the heart, listen to the blood flow, measure his arms and legs, and scope out the umbilical cord.  It's quite humerous to me all the "Negative Ned's and Nancy's" out there who gave the whole (said in a snotty tone) "Well you know, that baby may not cooperate to show the goods so you'll probably have to go back".  You know what he was shy about showing??  HIS FACE!  He was turned towards my back for a majority of the time, all nestled up against the placenta, and even though he was super active, he didn't really want to turn around and when he did he kept his hands/arms up around his face *laugh*.  I think we may have to swaddle him like that when he's here for real.

Hiding his face

After some prodding from our tech, he *finally* showed us a sneak peek into what he looks like.  Can't wait to see him for real! 

There he is!  Head, chest and umbilical cord!

So now we know we are welcoming little JP Stout into our lives this coming September and we can't wait.  I get to start figuring out the nursery now which is fabulous, and we're going to get the registry done today, and maybe buy the crib! Eek!!  I leave you with some more pics from the sonogram, a glimpse into our baby's world as he kicks away inside me :)

Sucking his thumb

Closeup of face w/hand to the left

His perfectly formed, 4-chamber heart

Practicing his fishing cast!

 

Was that a kick or...oh, nope, pardon me...that's just gas

16 weeks and one day today and I'm wondering if the odd movements I'm feeling are the baby moving around or just gas.  There were a couple of days last week that it was just gas *laugh*, but a couple of times where I stopped and thought "What in the heck was that?"; especially the other night.  I got up around 3am to let Buck dog out, returned to bed where I propped myself up with some pillows so I could lay on my back, settled down to return to sleep and felt a "taptaptap"..."taptaptap" kind of like "Hey, I was sleepin' in here, what are you doing up?!" but then again, it felt fairly high up in my abdomen so maybe it was just gas *shrugs*.  Who knows.

Granted I know I'll feel it for sure when it's a full on "Hi-ya!" karate kick or punch, but until then I am paying more attention to those feelings down there in hopes that I can catch one of these early flutters because even though girlfriends and moms are telling me "Oh you'll *know* when it happens" I've never done this before, it's a little confusing right now so forgive me if I snipe at you because of that statement.  It's kind of like when I had my wisdom teeth out and all my friends, in relation to dry sockets, were telling me "Oh don't worry, you'll KNOW if you have dry sockets".  Welp, went back to the dentist for my week check-up and he was appalled at my dry sockets and asked "Why didn't you call me earlier?  These are bad", and my response was "I didn't know I had dry sockets".  I didn't know what they felt like, I had no idea I had them. 

So till I feel the first "Hi-ya" karate kick, here's hoping to feel the flutters, bubbles, popcorn popping, and rolls these next few weeks.

 

I wonder if I'll be a good mom...

I think about this *all* the time.  I wonder if I have what it takes, if I can make the hard decisions that I know will have to be made.  If I can wrap this baby in love yet guide them with an iron fist.  I wonder if I can raise them in this crazy-a$$ world and still have them grow up knowing how to be compassionate, kind, patient, intelligent, passionate, and an all around productive member of society.  I wonder if karma will come back to bite me in the a$$ when they're the age of 13-18, *especially* if it's a girl.  I wonder if I'll be able to make it through those years.  I wonder if I can be okay with losing myself for a while in hopes of finding me again.  I wonder if I'll be resentful about what this is going to do to my figure.  I wonder if that's selfish.  I wonder how I'm going to screw this kid up, I wonder if they'll notice.  I wonder at the ways they will change my life...OUR life...forever.  I wonder if we're ready for that.  

I wonder if I'll have the strength it's going to take to do this, I wonder if I'll survive.

Oddly enough, I don't wonder about Tim.  I know he's going to be a fantastic dad.

Hormone roller coaster ride anyone??

#cheeseandrice.  A couple of months ago I was saying "Dang this bloat is outta control!" and now bloat must be replaced with hormones.  I've read about it, friends have told me about it, but I've never experienced it till now.  Believe you me, I was fine up until almost a week ago when I got thrown a curve ball I never really saw coming.  Maybe deep down inside I knew it was there but wanted to blind myself to it.  Irregardless, I got hit with it and it threw me into a freaking panic mode attack like nobody's business.  



Trust me; I logically and sanely understand that everything *will* somehow, someway work out the way it's supposed too.  All I have to remember is my cancer journey to know that's right.  But damn it all to hell if I don't just get wrapped up in the pure sh!t storm of scariness and spin off into the netherworlds while my friends and loved ones attempt to pull me back.  Here's a helpful tip.  Let me spin until I've spun myself out because then and *only* then will you be able to pull me back and talk (some might even want to smack *laugh*) some sense back into me.  Let me go through all my scenarios.  Let me project out to when our child is five years old and has to go to school and how expensive that's going to be and what we'll need, what they'll need, onandonandonandon.  Let me freak out about thinking we're going to have to live off of ramen noodles, powdered milk, and baked potatos in order to feed, clothe, diaper, and daycare of impending child.  Let me obsess for a little while over the enormity of it all because I've *never* done this before.

Do I realize that I'm not the first 33 year old, white, public school teacher with a part-time job (hell I'm lucky to just have the one) to get pregnant and have a baby in September with not many personal days to tap into?  Yes, I realize this.  Do I understand that thousands, if not millions of women have gone before me, with less than we have and survived incredibly to tell the tale?  Yes, I understand this.

But that doesn't mean I'm not still entitled to a freak out every now and then.  SO, as a person in my life let me spin for a bit and commiserate with me then when I've spun myself out, pull me back, dust me off, give me a hug, tell me to take a deep breath and just stop.  It *will* all work out somehow, some way, I know it will.  I just need to spin and have someone be there to catch me when I fall. 

 

The money matters of it all...

So we're entering the time where we need to begin thinking about what to do when the baby is actually *here*.  When our lives are completely turned upside down, our schedules are no longer our own, and it all belongs to this little one inside me that is now about the size of a lemon, or an apple depending on which website or app you look at.  

I'm going to admit, here, that I am scared sh!tless about this.  Not so much the actuality of taking care of my child, that I know we will be able to do.  I'm scared sh!tless about having to find money to buy all the stuff we need, finding someone to take care of our child, paying for it, paying for insurance, and paying for all of the diapers & formula this baby will need through their first few years of life when I know what's going to happen to my paycheck next year.

See...here's the thing.  Shortly after I/we found out I was pregnant, I called our benefits office at school to inquire about FMLA.  When I was diagnosed with cancer, we filled out the paperwork but never had to use it, but I know I'll have to fill it out again for pregnancy and have considered using it this time around.  *IF* I don't have to take any more days for the remainder of the year (and I'm seriously kicking myself now for taking three days for that damn sinus infection back in October, or all the days I took in years prior that could have been banked for this pregnancy)...anyways, *IF* I don't have to take any more days for the remainder of the year, I will have 23.5 personal days to use once this baby is born.  If the baby comes right on time, Sept. 22nd, then that takes me right up to Oct. 23rd to take off PAID.  Then if I decide to take four weeks of FMLA, which is UNPAID COMPLETELY, that will take me to the Tuesday prior to Thanksgiving.  Here's what I found out through our benefits office.  Not only would those four weeks of FMLA be completely unpaid, as in I would NOT receive a paycheck AT.ALL, but *then* they will recalculate my contract and prorate it for the remainder of the year because I wouldn't be working the contracted 180 days stated in the contract (never mind all the damn time I put in during marching season and ensembles that probably when added up would exceed those 180 days).  So not only will I be out two full paychecks, but then I'll be bringing in LESS money per month during a time that is probably going to be one of the most expensive in our lives.

It just doesn't seem fair.  It's like the powers that be are saying "Congratulations!  You're pregnant and that is SO awesome, but we're going to cut your pay so good luck in trying to pay your bills, keep your house, feed your child, put diapers on it's butt, OH and don't forget you have to pay for daycare!"  

It's really throwing me for a loop and I don't know what to do.  If I take four weeks unpaid, that's roughly $2700 we have to come up with, on our own, to be able to just cover those two paychecks in order to pay the bills, buy food, etc...for that month.  Yet if I *don't* take those four weeks off, then that $2700 we have saved could cover about six months worth of daycare, IF we can find a place that's $400 a month (anyone got any ideas?).  Yet here's the rub...I just don't know if I can say, after one month off, I don't know if I can relenquish my one month old child into the hands of a stranger, who granted may not be a complete stranger by that point but still...I don't know if I can do it.  Will I be emotionally ready to return to work after just one month with this new life we have created?  What kind of guilt will I feel in knowing that I have essentially dumped my child into the care of someone else just so I can go punch a clock to make the money to pay for their care.

Then again, if I don't take the four weeks unpaid, then we're ahead in this money game, AND they won't recalculate my contract so I won't be out more money.  I 'spose I could just take two weeks off unpaid because then I'm only out one paycheck and won't hit that 10day mark over personal days which will necessitate them to recalculate & prorate my contract.

Holy sh!tballs, what are we going to do.  I know one things for sure.  I'll be picking up as many extra shifts this summer as I physically can handle, stashing that money away just like I'm doing now, put off some house projects that although they need to be done, this is more important to put money towards, and hope this baby comes one week late cause that would help out with the leave better.  

Maybe now that I've gotten this out of my brain, a solution will present itself, and I'm hoping that somehow, someway this will all work out.  It's sure gonna be one scary ride though...

Introducing Baby Stout!

Due to enter and change our lives forever late September, 2012.  Currently 12w5d.

My bestest friend in the whole wide world + Rascal Flatts?!

ONE WORD...

EPIC.

   
Okay maybe not as "epic" as when we were 21, footloose and fancy free, but for a couple of young 30-year-old's, one of whom is a mom and the other a teacher, the fact that we were out on a *Sunday* night for happy hour &the Rascal Flatts concert, then home by 1130pm/midnight...well, *that* my friends is EPIC.

L: Junior year of high school R: Kickin' Cancer Party

Mischa and I have been friends since about the 8th grade, so just about 14 years of age...32 minus 14 is 18 years!  It's absolutely stunning to realize that we have been friends through thick and thin, good times and bad, periods of joy, periods of sorrow, and life-changing events on both sides for over half our life.

#Crazy.

Two "Lion's Leap" outfits and our band uniform

We were inseparable in high school, she was the Tuba Goddess, and I was the Drum Line "B!tch" (yes that was my nickname given to me with love by the Line; don't tell me you're shocked! ;)  She ran with the "Hicks" throughout her time at LHS, whereas I was the band geek/school geek girl on the swim team trying to be cool chick, yet she was my bestest friend in the whole wide world, and I hers.



Over the course of our friendship we have hit a rocky patch or two, but we have *always* come out stronger for it on the other side and that is a true friendship.  There are things that I only share with her because she "gets me".  There are things she shares only with me because I know the truth behind the story and I'm not afraid to smack her upside the head with the usual "No ding-dong, this is what you need to do and you know it", and thankfully she does the same for me.

Everyone should have a bestest friend in the whole wide world; a friend like Mischa.  Someone who knows you *so* stinkin' well it's like staring in the mirror.  Someone who no matter where life takes you, no matter how much you grow up, nor how many weeks you go without seeing each other, it doesn't matter because they are truly your other half.

Prom May 1996

Our wedding June 2005

From pre-teen fantasies to squealing about boys, marching in the band, first boyfriend's, teenage angst, parent woes, Prom, after-Prom, Lion's Leap, winter formal, to coasting Mass Street with the top down listening to Spice Girls and "smoking" a cigarette cause we thought we looked cool (I say "smoking" cause I'm pretty sure we mostly held it).  From parental divorce trauma, to those early college days; a year of not talking because we were both too stubborn to admit our faults, to reuniting our two halves of a whole again.  

Puberty, wild college days, turning 30, marriage, divorce, babies, and now cancer; there's not much we haven't been through, and there's no one else I would have rather traveled this journey with.
  


As we've gotten older and become more "adult", our lives leave us precious little space to spend time together.  We live about 45minutes apart from one another, which isn't that far granted, but with my busy school schedule and her two kiddos and new hubby keepin' her busy, we don't get much "face" time anymore.  


But we always make time for Rascal Flatts!

I think it started about six years ago with my first *real* concert.  I've never been a "concert goer".  Prior to this one, the only one I'd ever been too was Bela Fleck and the Flecktones the winter after I graduated from high school. I was never big into concerts because I didn't understand why someone would want to spend all that money to just go see something that 9 times out of 10 sounded better on the CD anyways.  That was until I saw RF open for Kenny Chesney that summer.  I was transfixed.  I was hooked.  I had to go again.

Rascal Flatts 2011

Ever since that concert it became our "thing" to go see the Flatts in concert whenever they were/are here in KC.   I'll be honest and tell you that I wasn't sure how long I was going to last, Sunday night.  As my wonderful husband would attest, I have the circadian rhythm of a 70 year old...no offense but it's true.  I tend to fall asleep around 8:30 because I get up for gosh forsaken early (4:30am) and on the weekends I tend to fall asleep around 930 and wake up around 7.  What can I say, it's the way I'm wired anymore.  So I was a little concerned when we bought the tickets because the concert was on a Sunday night, but we partied like mature, adult, responsible rock stars ;), and it's another good memory in the books. ;)


So thank you my dear for putting up with me all these years.  You are truly the bestest friend a girl could have, a wonderful mother, a loving wife, and a beautiful woman inside and out.  I am grateful to have you in my life.

"Good night sweet heart well it's time to go,

Doh, doh-doh-doh.

Good night sweet heart well it's time to go,

Doh, doh-doh-doh.

I hate to leave you but I really must say,

Oh!

Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight!

Doh-doh-dee-oh-doh-dee-oh-do"

Love ya babe.  I'll talk to you later ;)