Questions for my Grandmother

47 years ago today my Grandma Margaret passed away. My mom was twelve years old.

I don't know a lot of intimate details of her life. There are no journals or diaries. Heck, it's even hard to find a photograph of her, since she despised having her picture taken. (Just like my mom.) I know she was a wife to Chub McAdams, a mother to seven children, and was a faithful Catholic. She died when she was fifty-two years old from colon cancer.

When I think about her, I don't "miss" her because I never met her. When I think on her death I do get sad, but not in the same way when I think about my uncles or aunts who have passed away. I can still hear my Uncle Bud's voice. I can still hear my Uncle Mick's laugh. I can see my Uncle Bob's sly smile. I can see my Uncle Dave sitting in a chair, talking, drinking a Mountain Dew. I miss them terribly. I don't have that same experience when thinking about my Grandma Margaret, or even my Grandpa Chub for that matter, since he passed away when I was just two years old.

I have always felt a special connection to my Grandma. I was born on her birthday and in the same town where she was born and raised. My mother named me after her. I always thought that had a little something to do with my mom's decision not to give me up for adoption. My Grandma was very active in the choir at church, played the piano and loved participating in music. I like to think that I got my love of music from her. When I was little I was convinced she was my guardian angel.

Now that I am an adult there are times I wish I could talk to her face to face. When I am feeling discouraged about what is going on in my life I wish I could ask her questions..........

Did you ever worry how you and your husband would raise seven children? Did you even want seven children? How did you cope with the chaos? How did you discipline? Were you worried you would screw them up and they'd grow up to be psycho killers? Did you ever want to bang your head against the wall?


Did you ever worry about life? Were you a worrier like me? My mom told me a story about a time she was talking to her dad, fretting about something, and he told her, "You worry just like your mom used to." My mom also remembers one of her brothers getting you a book called How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie. How did you power through your worries and fears?

Did you ever despair in your financial situation? I know that you and your husband were poor. However, your children never knew just how bad off they were until they were much older. How did you hide it from them? How did you provide a happy childhood for them? How did you get by? Did you lay in bed and night and soak your pillow with your tears like I have done? Did you rely on God's help? Did you ever fear the worst?

It is well known in our family that you were a devoted Catholic. You were very active in your parish. Did you ever have doubts in your faith? Did you ever have spiritual darkness? Did you ever wonder what direction God wanted you to go in your life? You lived in a town that was dominantly Protestant. How hard was it to hold on to your faith? Did you ever fall to your knees in sorrow and pain and beg God for help? Was there anything you questioned about the Catholic Church? How did you raise your children in the church? Were you strict?

What were your feelings when after six boys you finally got your daughter? Were you over the moon excited? Were you ever scared being a mom? Your own mother died when you were just six years old. Did you ever second guess yourself? Was it always your dream to be a mother?

Did you ever have dreams and hopes? When I was younger I had big dreams of being an actress. Did you ever want to be a musician or a writer? I hear stories of how much you loved to write and how you were one of the fastest typists ever. Did I get my love of writing from you? Did you ever want to travel? Did you ever feel trapped in small town with seven kids? Or were you content with life?


I've heard that your siblings were a little more financially well off than you were. Did that make you jealous? Did you long for a big beautiful home with nice things? Did you long to be free of financial worry? Did you ever worry your children would feel the sting of being poor?

Your seven children were not all born very close together. My oldest uncle was 20 years old when my mom, the youngest and only girl, was born. As they grew older their sibling bonds grew tighter and stronger. How did you instill in them how important family is? I am hoping and praying that my children have a strong bond growing up like my mom and her siblings. How did you do that?

One thing my uncles have stressed about you is that you were very charismatic and had lots of friends. You could meet a stranger and an hour later you had exchanged addresses and would correspond for years. So it seems that even if you were depressed or melancholy at times you hid it well. My mom gets stopped in the grocery store by older people who tell her how wonderful of a woman you were. You've been gone from this world for nearly 50 years. What an impact you must have made. Even though there aren't many photos of you, I am sure your smile was infectious. I bet your laugh was hearty and joyful.


What do you think of your family here on earth? Do we make you proud? Are you resting in peace knowing that your children and grandchildren are still quite close? Are you happy that we rejoice in life, revel in memories and are dedicated to family? Are you sad that no priest or nun has come out of the family like you always wanted? (I promise I'll work on that for you!) Do I make you proud?

From what I can tell you were a happy woman. You were a devoted daughter of God and loved the Catholic Church, but you were no Puritan. She enjoyed a good shaggy dog story. Your grandparents had come to America from Ireland, so I'm sure you had a lot of spunk and spitfire.



I wish I could have known you. I know someday if I get to heaven I can ask you these questions. Whenever one of my uncles passes away, I always imagine you are the first person to greet them on the other side. You were the first to see them come into this world; you are the first person to see them in the other world. Someday our entire family will be reunited again. Not just for a three day family reunion or a couple days for a funeral. We will be reunited forever. Being stuck with your family for all eternity? Sounds like hell for some people. But not for us. It will be a glorious banquet. A perpetual campfire to gather around. And Jesus and Mary and the saints will be there, too, which will make it even more grand.



You have left such a great legacy. Through your marriage to Grandpa Chub you had 7 children and 28 grandchildren. Your family keeps growing. You keep on living through us. Even though I can't ask you the questions I want to ask you, I can listen to the stories I hear, learn from your life, and try to live my life as you did- loving God, loving family and loving life.

Questions for my Grandmother

47 years ago today my Grandma Margaret passed away. My mom was twelve years old.

I don't know a lot of intimate details of her life. There are no journals or diaries. Heck, it's even hard to find a photograph of her, since she despised having her picture taken. (Just like my mom.) I know she was a wife to Chub McAdams, a mother to seven children, and was a faithful Catholic. She died when she was fifty-two years old from colon cancer.

When I think about her, I don't "miss" her because I never met her. When I think on her death I do get sad, but not in the same way when I think about my uncles or aunts who have passed away. I can still hear my Uncle Bud's voice. I can still hear my Uncle Mick's laugh. I can see my Uncle Bob's sly smile. I can see my Uncle Dave sitting in a chair, talking, drinking a Mountain Dew. I miss them terribly. I don't have that same experience when thinking about my Grandma Margaret, or even my Grandpa Chub for that matter, since he passed away when I was just two years old.

I have always felt a special connection to my Grandma. I was born on her birthday and in the same town where she was born and raised. My mother named me after her. I always thought that had a little something to do with my mom's decision not to give me up for adoption. My Grandma was very active in the choir at church, played the piano and loved participating in music. I like to think that I got my love of music from her. When I was little I was convinced she was my guardian angel.

Now that I am an adult there are times I wish I could talk to her face to face. When I am feeling discouraged about what is going on in my life I wish I could ask her questions..........

Did you ever worry how you and your husband would raise seven children? Did you even want seven children? How did you cope with the chaos? How did you discipline? Were you worried you would screw them up and they'd grow up to be psycho killers? Did you ever want to bang your head against the wall?


Did you ever worry about life? Were you a worrier like me? My mom told me a story about a time she was talking to her dad, fretting about something, and he told her, "You worry just like your mom used to." My mom also remembers one of her brothers getting you a book called How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie. How did you power through your worries and fears?

Did you ever despair in your financial situation? I know that you and your husband were poor. However, your children never knew just how bad off they were until they were much older. How did you hide it from them? How did you provide a happy childhood for them? How did you get by? Did you lay in bed and night and soak your pillow with your tears like I have done? Did you rely on God's help? Did you ever fear the worst?

It is well known in our family that you were a devoted Catholic. You were very active in your parish. Did you ever have doubts in your faith? Did you ever have spiritual darkness? Did you ever wonder what direction God wanted you to go in your life? You lived in a town that was dominantly Protestant. How hard was it to hold on to your faith? Did you ever fall to your knees in sorrow and pain and beg God for help? Was there anything you questioned about the Catholic Church? How did you raise your children in the church? Were you strict?

What were your feelings when after six boys you finally got your daughter? Were you over the moon excited? Were you ever scared being a mom? Your own mother died when you were just six years old. Did you ever second guess yourself? Was it always your dream to be a mother?

Did you ever have dreams and hopes? When I was younger I had big dreams of being an actress. Did you ever want to be a musician or a writer? I hear stories of how much you loved to write and how you were one of the fastest typists ever. Did I get my love of writing from you? Did you ever want to travel? Did you ever feel trapped in small town with seven kids? Or were you content with life?


I've heard that your siblings were a little more financially well off than you were. Did that make you jealous? Did you long for a big beautiful home with nice things? Did you long to be free of financial worry? Did you ever worry your children would feel the sting of being poor?

Your seven children were not all born very close together. My oldest uncle was 20 years old when my mom, the youngest and only girl, was born. As they grew older their sibling bonds grew tighter and stronger. How did you instill in them how important family is? I am hoping and praying that my children have a strong bond growing up like my mom and her siblings. How did you do that?

One thing my uncles have stressed about you is that you were very charismatic and had lots of friends. You could meet a stranger and an hour later you had exchanged addresses and would correspond for years. So it seems that even if you were depressed or melancholy at times you hid it well. My mom gets stopped in the grocery store by older people who tell her how wonderful of a woman you were. You've been gone from this world for nearly 50 years. What an impact you must have made. Even though there aren't many photos of you, I am sure your smile was infectious. I bet your laugh was hearty and joyful.


What do you think of your family here on earth? Do we make you proud? Are you resting in peace knowing that your children and grandchildren are still quite close? Are you happy that we rejoice in life, revel in memories and are dedicated to family? Are you sad that no priest or nun has come out of the family like you always wanted? (I promise I'll work on that for you!) Do I make you proud?

From what I can tell you were a happy woman. You were a devoted daughter of God and loved the Catholic Church, but you were no Puritan. She enjoyed a good shaggy dog story. Your grandparents had come to America from Ireland, so I'm sure you had a lot of spunk and spitfire.



I wish I could have known you. I know someday if I get to heaven I can ask you these questions. Whenever one of my uncles passes away, I always imagine you are the first person to greet them on the other side. You were the first to see them come into this world; you are the first person to see them in the other world. Someday our entire family will be reunited again. Not just for a three day family reunion or a couple days for a funeral. We will be reunited forever. Being stuck with your family for all eternity? Sounds like hell for some people. But not for us. It will be a glorious banquet. A perpetual campfire to gather around. And Jesus and Mary and the saints will be there, too, which will make it even more grand.



You have left such a great legacy. Through your marriage to Grandpa Chub you had 7 children and 28 grandchildren. Your family keeps growing. You keep on living through us. Even though I can't ask you the questions I want to ask you, I can listen to the stories I hear, learn from your life, and try to live my life as you did- loving God, loving family and loving life.

The End of Breastfeeding

I has been two weeks since I have breastfed Joe. Our nursing relationship has come to an end, and it ended the way I wanted: peacefully.

I mentioned in this post a while back that I was really starting to resent nursing. I had been planning on weaning before this next baby is born, because I really don't think I can handle tandem nursing. However, I was hoping that Joe would kind of initiate the weaning process. I felt like a horrible mother for taking away the breast and we had had such an awesome nursing bond all the way through until those last few weeks and I didn't want it to end on a sour note. But it needed to be done because I wasn't getting any rest and and it was starting to affect my mothering.

Two changes happened- he transitioned into his crib well and we stopped sleeping in the same room as him. He still wakes up once or twice during the night but usually puts himself back to sleep. If he doesn't, then it is my husband who goes in and soothes him for a minute or two and makes sure he has his binky (that will be another addiction to break soon....) So I've actually been getting a full night's sleep!!!!! Halleluiah, praise the Lord!!!!!

I wanted to wean him slowly, so I would nurse him before he would go to bed and then again before I hit the sack. But then I cut it down to just before he went to sleep. Then I got sick for a few days and was usually in bed before he was. I thought we'd experiment to see if he would totally freak out not having any nursing time, but he did awesome. No crying, no nothing. I could have just kept going on not nursing him, but I'm selfish and still wanted a few more days to savor our breastfeeding relationship. Every time I nursed him he'd turn his head to look at his Daddy and wave and giggle. It became a kind of peek a boo game.

The last night we nursed Ryan wasn't there at all. He had to bar tend at an open house event at his work so I put him to bed by myself. I turned down the lights, put his lullaby music on and laid on the bed to nurse. He nursed for 3 minutes and was ready to read his bedtime story. He wasn't interested in nursing at all.

It's weird not nursing anymore. Joe has always been a marathon nurser. I know it won't be too much longer when I have the chance to nurse again, but I still miss it. I am so happy that we were both ready to move on and that chapter of our relationship was closed with peace.

There are times that he still grabs at my shirt and tres to lift it up. It's very rare, but it happens. He doesn't throw a fit when I say that nursing has gone night night.

It's crazy to see how much he has grown up. In a few days he'll hit the year and a half mark. I just can't believe it. He can interact more with us. He's jabbering away and saying SOMETHING... we just have no clue what it is. He's running, climbing, screaming, and is definitely his own little person.

Yes, that's a St. Patrick's Day beer mug in his hand!

I've been printing off pictures of when Joe was first born and I can't believe how far we've BOTH come. I look at the pictures of me and I just remember how scared crapless I was. How unsure I was. I still don't have everything figured out, but I feel a tad more confident now.



I'm thankful for our breastfeeding relationship. It has helped us out both tremendously these past 17 months. I'm praying that our next little blessing and I will have a great nursing bond as well.

I Dread Lent

Every year it happens. About a week before Ash Wednesday the stirrings of "What am I going to give up for Lent?" begin on Facebook. Then, on Mardi Gras, Facebook explodes with profile pictures of "Off Facebook for Lent" and "Goodbye chocolate!" statuses. Not just from Catholics- there are a lot of our Protestant brothers and sisters who give up something for Lent as well. I always thought Lent was a Catholic thang.

Then come the statuses from my friends who are destined to be saints. "Yay Lent!"

To that I want to say, "Are you crazy?!"

I wish I could be like my friends and look to Lent with joy and anticipation. It is a time the Church gave us to grow in holiness and to grow closer to Christ. We should always be doing that, but, Mother knows best- she knows our weaknesses and knows we need a massive spiritual boost oooh... about twice a year.

But what do I see? Lent = dread.

NO MEAT ON FRIDAYS. I am a meat girl. For realz. The only time I ever considered being a vegetarian was when I learned that Jonathan Taylor Thomas was a vegetarian and if I was going to ever marry him I better get used to not eating meat.

Oh, JTT. Don't judge me, people.

That lasted about 43 minutes.

I LOVE my meat. Mmm- MMMM! I eat it everyday. It is so tender. It is so juicy and delicious... Wow. I seriously just zoned out for about 1 minute thinking about meat. I better stop writing about it.

Needless to say, it is hard for me to give up meat. Ironically when I was a student at Benedictine I gave up meat FOR ALL OF LENT. I was much holier then. Not sure what happened to me. I know there are plenty of other things to eat besides meat, but I'm picky. I'm not a big fish fan (except for Long John Silver's fish and fish sticks, but I'm usually laughed at when I say this is the only fish I like.) And those crappy vegetarian meals just don't cut it for me.

I HATE fasting. I love to eat. Snacking is my downfall. I'm not sure if I would have survived back in the day where you couldn't eat anything ALL DAY. That's why old people are holier than us young heathens.

So that's the two major things that bum me out during Lent. But then there are the boring churches. No decorations. Sometimes the statues are covered up. Yes, yes, before you start in- I know all that external stuff is just extra stuff to aid in worship, and half the time I don't even notice it. But when Lent rolls around the difference just stands out to me. Everything is so blah. I feel spiritually blah. The weather outside is blah, no flowers, no color... Lent is just blah. So when the sanctuary is blah, and there is no Gloria or Alleluia sung I feel... lackluster.

Then there is that whole penance thing. Lent is about penance. As a prideful, sinful person, penance is hard. As a person who wants everything to be easy, penance is REALLY hard. I know that I need it, but it's like exercising. I know I need to do it, it's good for you, helps you out in the long run, but I'm lazy. Simple as that.

When I see my friends' Facebook statuses that read "Yay Lent!" or "I love Lent!" I just scratch my head. Is Lent really to be enjoyed? Denying oneself is not easy. But then I remember the Bible verse:

"Whenever you fast, do not put on a gloomy face as the hypocrites do, for they neglect their appearance so that they will be noticed by men when they are fasting. ... But you, when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face." -Matthew 6:16-17

I know my friends know that Lent isn't all sunshine and unicorn glitter. They know it will be hard. Their mouth will salivate when they smell their neighbors grilling steaks on a Friday night. But they have anointed their heads and washed their face. They put on the face of joy and not complaining. That's why they will go to heaven right away and I'll burn in the purifying fires of Purgatory for 900 million years.

Maybe I get so pissy and bitter because I always hope that I'll have some spiritual Renaissance happen to me. I'll finally battle through this spiritual darkness that I've struggled with for the past couple of years. But in the end it is still the same. Nothing has changed. That is just something I will have to work on and pray through.

Why do I even bother doing all this jazz during Lent? As much as I complain I do follow the standards. So why?

Because I love Jesus and I love the Catholic Church. Jesus was tortured, mocked, humiliated, stripped, spat upon, beaten, had huge thorns pierced into his scalp, screamed at by hundreds, had nails driven through his wrists and feet and hung on a cross to die. He didn't die by bleeding to death. He died by slowing suffocating. All this for hours upon hours. As he sees his closest friends abandoning him. As he sees the people who just days before welcomed him into the city as a king now cursing at him and laughing at him.

All this for me. For you.

So of COURSE I can give up meat and gorging myself all day. I really need to stop complaining. All these things we do reminds us of Jesus. These actions remind us that it isn't just food that nourishes us. It is God. Going without food reminds us of the hungry- that we must care for all God's children. Giving up meat and sweets or caffeine reminds us of sacrifice. It helps us to remember the ultimate sacrifice that Christ made for us.

The Church wants what is best for us. That is why she has these guidelines. They are to help us, not hurt us. Why not take advantage of the gifts the Church has given us to grow closer in our relationship with God?

Lent is kind of like our time here on earth. It can be drab and dark. But there is good and growing in it as well. Our time on earth is leading up to our final home in heaven, just as Lent leads up to the glory of Easter. The days get longer, full of sunshine, the flowers begin to bloom, the grass pokes through the barren, cold soil and there is glory and life. Easter comes and in the blah sanctuary is an explosion of pure white lilies, the statues are uncovered to show the holy men and women of heaven and we can finally sing alleluia.

Lent is good. I just need to stop acting all Adam and Eve-ish with that pesky Original Sin and start looking to Jesus.

Praying that you all have a very blessed Lent!

The Winner Is...

And the winner of I Just Can't Take It Anymore is.....

Joy from joy in the morning!

Congrats!

Just email me your address and I will get the book to you ASAP!

Thanks to all who entered!

Reminder for Book Giveaway!

Don't forget about my giveaway of Anthony DeStefano's I Just Can't Take It Anymore!

You have until 12:00 noon (CST) tomorrow, Monday, February 20th. All you have to do is leave a comment at this post and I will randomly select a winner. Be sure to leave a comment at the review post, NOT here!

Good luck!

Thanks Y'all...

I should be sleeping right now. I'm emotionally, physically and spiritually drained. Plus I've eaten waaay too much chocolate today so I feel like crap. (I can't drown my sorrows in wine, so I have to go with chocolate.) I just wanted to jump on here real quick like and thank you for the prayers and comments. They are helping. Believe me.

Tonight I was reading Moo Baa La La La to Joe and I broke down at "Rhinoceroses snort and snuff." I was laying on the bed and Joe was sitting up beside me and he leaned down and laid his head on my belly and put his arm over me. He was hugging me. My 17 month old son who often drives me to want to bang my head against the wall, was hugging me. I hate breaking down in front of him like that. I can see the confusion in his eyes like, "Uh, lady, I'm the one who is supposed to have the irrational emotional outbursts. Not you."

Every time I put him on his changing table after his bath to lotion him up he always stands up and hugs on tight to me. (He also tries to bite my shoulder and neck. My little vampire.) But tonight as he was hugging me, he patted and rubbed my back. He's never done that before. I always rub and pat his back when I give him a hug when he's upset. Tears spilled over my eyes when he did this. (Ugh, they are now, too. Damn you, hormones!!!)

I love how he knows me so well. I love how he comforts me in his own little ways.

No matter what happens, a baby will be born. A new soul is living inside me. I keep thinking of this pregnancy as a medical condition and not the miracle it is. Ryan and I are adding to our family. We are giving Joe the gift of a sibling. There is so much more good in this situation than bad. I just need to keep focusing on that.

Again, thank you for your help and prayers. Keep 'em coming, because I am weak, and I need them! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

At a loss...

I'm super pissed.

I'm super hormonal.

I'll probably regret this post later on.

I'm just asking for some prayers.

I've been thinking about attempting a VBAC since, oh, pretty much from one hour after I had my c-section. I've prayed. I've researched. I want that experience, but I'm not militant about it. If I have to have a c-section then I am OK with that, but I want at least the opportunity to try a trial of labor.

I scheduled an appointment soon after I found out I was pregnant. It was to a very Catholic, very pro-life doctor. I know many people who have gone to him and love him. I was under the impression he did do VBAC's. I found out later that was incorrect. Thankfully a friend pointed me to another good Catholic NFP doctor who DOES do VBACs. I scheduled an appointment with him.

When I met him I felt instantly at ease. He said he didn't see a problem with VBAC, except his only concern was how big Joe was and he was born 2 weeks early. He said if Joe had been a pound lighter he would highly encourage me to attempt a VBAC. He and I were both on the same page in that we'd play it by ear. He said, "We'll leave it in God's hands" which really impressed me. I also mentioned my fears of having multiple c-sections because I would like a handful of kids and I always read that multiple c-sections are dangerous. He said he had just delivered a woman's 8th child and all were c-sections, so it can be done. He gave me comfort and peace. I was feeling awesome!

A few weeks later we got the pre-payment bill for the OB office. I was dumbstruck. It was huge and it didn't even cover everything. My husband's insurance when I was pregnant with Joe was stellar because we barely paid anything. This was just the OB office... God only knows how much it would be for the hospital.

My mind was racing with what to do. There is assistance we could apply for through the hospital. Or, there is always Medicaid for Pregnant Women. I would probably qualify. But when I called my OB office they said they do not take Medicaid.

For the past few weeks I've been struggling to figure out what I want to do. I think we can pay the OB bill with our tax return, and maybe the hospital assistance program will help us out. But then I think about our financial situation and I despair. I was referred to another doctor who does take Missouri Medicaid and does do VBACs.(My doctor is in Kansas.) But I really really really really really want to stay with this doctor. But will it be worth it financially?

I prayed and prayed and prayed. Last week I had an appointment with my doctor. I was wanting to ask him his opinion of the doctor they referred me to. I was ready to give up. I told him it was very important to me to have a Catholic doctor and he stopped me before I could say anything else. He said he would do everything in his power to take care of me and we would work it out. I asked him about Medicaid. He said even though the office said they wouldn't take it, he would... until I mentioned it would be Missouri Medicaid. He honestly did not know if he would be able to take it. He asked me to find out if any Missouri Medicaid would be accepted in Kansas. He said we would get it figured out.

As soon as we left the office we went to a Division of Family Services office and asked them if Missouri Medicaid was accepted in Kansas. They said yes, it was, based on the doctor's discretion. So I called back to the insurance lady at the OB office and told them this. She said she would talk to my doctor and get back with me.

I've been waiting for a week to find out. I just got the call an hour ago saying that they will not take Missouri Medicaid.

I am at a complete loss at what to do. Do I just go to this doctor they referred me to, who I have never met, since they do take Missouri Medicaid? Do I suck it up and pay the OB bill hoping that we get assistance through the hospital so I can stay with a doctor I feel comfortable with? Do I try and find another doctor all together?

I'm so pissed and confused. I hate my c-section even more because it narrows down my choices. I feel like a freaking loser who has to depend on assistance. I feel like once I hit the post button that people will nod their heads and say, "Yup, yup...See, you gotta plan these things out before you get knocked up."

I'm clueless. I need to figure out something. I'll be 17 weeks this Friday. I don't feel any joy in this pregnancy. I'm anxious because of pre-e, VBAC/c-section, bills, doctors...

Please pray for us to make a good decision because I just have no more words anymore.

Man Card

My husband and I aren't really that into St. Valentine's Day. Yeah, it's SAINT Valentine's Day... named after a SAINT. Hallmark and Kay Jewelers did not invent this holiday. But I think I'm preaching to the choir here.

Anywho, like I said, we don't really celebrate. Ryan did get me Breaking Dawn Part 1 on Saturday (but I would have bought that regardless) and I let him get a video game. Those were our gifts to each other. No card. No nothing else.

But then my husband who is just too too good to me surprised me this morning. I woke up and there was a HUGE box of chocolates and a hilarious card. My chocolate craving goes skyhigh when I'm pregnant, so the big box of Russel Stovers were a joyous sight.

But then I felt guilty. I didn't even buy Ryan a card. I know he doesn't care about that stuff, but I wanted to get him SOMETHING to show him I care.

I got a piece of paper, some camo duct tape and paint pens and made a pretty testosterone-themed St. Valentine's Day card. Duct tape and paint... pretty manly if you ask me.

Who needs Hallmark OR Pinterest. I can get pretty creative if I want to!

Hope you all have a great St. Valentine's Day!

Book Review and Giveaway!

I received an email a while back asking me to review Anthony DeStefano's new book I Just Can't Take It Anymore. Mr. DeStefano is one of my favorite authors, and I've reviewed his works before, but the title alone is what made me want to read this book.

Because, let's be honest, there are many times I feel like banging my head against the wall and screaming, "I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" This might be after Joe has used his new talent of screaming at the top of his lungs all. day. long. Or after reading rousing political opinions on Facebook. Sometimes it is after I am almost run down by some big city hotshot in the parking lot of the grocery store. I'm pretty positive that the words, "I can't take it anymore" leave my mouth everyday.

I was surprised when the book came in the mail and it was a small book with only 64 pages. I flipped through the book and saw lots of adorable pictures of children. I was expecting a lengthy page turner full of Scripture, teachings from the Church Fathers and lots of deep theological stuff.

What I read was exactly what I needed.

The pages weave a story of times when we feel lost, depressed, abandoned and confused. We often ask the question of "Where is God in my times of sorrow?" We all know there is the answer to why bad things seem to happen to good people. This book points to the answers and places to give us comfort and peace. It reminds us to see the blessings in life. All this is explained beautifully in only 64 pages.

There are beautiful colored photographs of babies and children that just add charm and simplicity to the message of the book. Sometimes we don't need a tome of theological explanations. Sometimes simple is best, especially in times where we need help and comfort right away.

The other great aspect of this book is that I think all ages can enjoy it. The wording is simple enough for children to understand, but not too childish, so teens and adults will find joy in reading it as well. I Just Can't Take It Anymore would also make a great gift for a friend or family member who seems to be going through a rough patch. Maybe you have a co-worker who feels under-appreciated, or a cousin who is going through some relationship troubles. This is lighthearted and easy reading to possibly help them out.

I highly recommend this book! And Mr. DeStefano graciously gave me an additonal copy to give away to y'all! All you need to do is leave a comment saying you would like to win this book. I will randomly pick a winner by Monday, February 20th, at 12:00 noon CST. Good luck!

If you would like to read more about Anthony DeStefano and his other books you can visit his website here.

Way Back When Vol. 2: Full House

It has been a little quiet over here at the ol' From the Heart. I've been sick. Not just *cough cough* oooh, ohh.. me has a little cold. No. It's been churning stomach, body aches, chills, lethargy and other stuff you don't wanna know about.

Plus, I've been depressed as all hell. Like literally on my knees praying to God with no words because I don't know what to say anymore.

What, you don't want to hear about my trips to the potty and bone-crushing exhaustion and sadness? No?

Me either.

OK! Let's do a Way Back When post! This week:

My most favorite show from my childhood- Full House!

Seriously, who didn't watch this show?

Whenever the Golden Gate bridge would appear in the opening credits and the rhythmic thumping of the drums would begin the theme song followed by "Ah, ah, ah, ahhhh.. ahhhhhh! Whatever happened to predictability...." I knew that I was in for 30 minutes of pure awesomeness. This was my show.

I don't remember when I started watching it. It premiered in 1987 when I was just three years old, so I doubt it was that early. But I do know I was pretty young. It was a big part of my childhood. I'm sure what drew me in was the fact that there were three daughters. Even though I had an older brother, he was graduated and out of the house when I was five, so I was used to girl stuff.

My favorite character was the youngest, Michelle. She was always so adorable and funny. Although, she got kind of annoying in the last few seasons. Her cuteness wore off a bit. She became kind of rotton. Especially to her poor sister Stephanie.

I was a huge Olsen twin fan. That is, before they turned into homeless chic, Marlbro Reds smoking weirdos. I had the Michelle talking doll that said phrases like "You got it dude!" and "Whoa, baby!" I still have that doll although her voice kind of sounds somewhat demonic.

This is not my own photo. My doll's hair looks like a rats nest and her shoes are loooong gooone!

I also had some picture book called Uncle Jesse's Scrapbook.. I think that is what it was called. I also had a poster of Uncle Jesse and toddler Michelle sitting on a motorcycle. I think I got it at a book fair at school.

I loved watching the Olsen twins outside of Full House. I caught the TV movies To Grandmother's House We Go, Double, Double, Toil and Trouble, and How the West was Fun. I think I even taped them. I also had a few VHS's of The Adventures of Mary-Kate and Ashley.

Then I remember a few years later seeing them as teens and selling their own brand of clothes at Wal-Mart and I was charmed no more. I now see them in magazines looking like this:


Some of the rumored things they do makes little Michelle Tanner do this:


I suppose I shouldn't hate on the Olsen twins so much. Just because they were gazillionaires by the time they turned 10 doesn't mean they have to be Mother Teresa's and be good solid role models for today's young women. But it would sure be nice if they were.

Speaking of changing impressions- have you heard Bob Sagat lately?! He played the OCD, Mr. Clean, Mr. Perfect Dad. Tall, goofy, loveable.

Well, hello there, Mr. T!

Bob Sagat has moved on from warm fuzzy family sitcoms and home video commentary. He has a comedy act. A very vulgar comedy act.


I never thought I'd have to blur out Danny Tanner flipping off the camera. He's still kind of funny. Still a decent musician. But he says some things that makes little Michelle Tanner go:


Now, on to Uncle Jesse.

Uncle Jesse. Sigh.... Uncle Jesse.


So handsome. He can SING and play guitar. He has a band... and a soft spot for babies!


I love Uncle Jesse. And John Stamos has not disappointed me with age.

I don't wanna know anything about him. He's probably some radical liberal wacko who donates to PETA and is a vegan. And hates kids and America. I can't look at Danny Tanner the same after hearing some of his stand-up, I can't have Uncle Jesse ruined for me either!

The only thing that has shocked little Michelle Tanner about Uncle Jesse is just how good lookin' he has gotten over time. It makes her do this:

The one bad thing about Uncle Jesse is that he makes me feel old. I watched the first episode and he said he was 26. Uh... Uncle Jesse CANNOT be younger than me. What the heck?

As for the rest of the cast- Joey was just weird. I mean, just plain creepy. I always kind of felt sorry for him because he was always in Jesse and Danny's shadow... but c'mon, man.

D.J. was one of my favorites. That was until she broke up with her boyfriend Steve. The actor who played Steve was the voice in Disney's Aladdin. Who breaks up with Aladdin? And he was PERFECT for her... ack!!! The the series finale made up for that disaster...

Stephanie was cute, but then got annoying towards the end. I do, however, use her "How rude." quote all the time. Her character was pretty funny.

Aunt Becky was pretty rad. She was a Midwestern gal from Nebraska, so she was cool in my book.

Kimmy was more than annoying. Which made me like D.J. even more because she was a true friend to someone who was so God-awful.

I'm not sure what attracted me to this show so much. I remember being devastated when I learned the series was being cancelled. Maybe it was because I lived with just my mom in a small house. I longed for a big open house with a big family. Always someone there. I struggled a lot with being lonely as a child. I guess Full House was like a pretend family for me. I blame Full House for my inner longing of wanting a big family.

You want to know how much I love Full House? The show was an inspiration for the song Ryan and I danced to at our wedding.

The episode where Jesse and Becky get married is my absolute fave. It aired in 1991.. which was about the time that I thought all brides were real live princesses. That episode made me dream of my own wedding. In the show, during the ceremony, Jesse sings a song to Becky. Here's a clip (they show baby pictures and other growing up photos of John Stamos and Lori Loughlin, who plays Becky. John Stamos has ALWAYS been handsome!)

Blasted thing won't embed! You can see the link to the video here.

I searched high and low to see if somewhere in Internetlandia had this song to download. In my search I learned that this song is actually a Beach Boys song. Which doesn't surprise me. The Beach Boys were on the show probably as much as Kimmy Gibler. So getting that version was easy, and even though I liked the Gospel choir and instruments in Uncle Jesse's version, the Beach Boys worked perfectly for us.



Sure, Full House was corny. There was always a predicament and then "the talk" with super serious music in the background. But it did teach good morals and values. It was good for the whole family because there is definitely some adult humor I did not catch as a child that I have now that I have the whole series on DVD! I think today's day and age could use some more shows like Full House.

So how about you? Did you watch Full House?

The Line

The poverty line.

We're hovering around it.

Living so close to going below the poverty line is taking its toll on me.

My dreams of having a big family are slipping away. I'm tired of the judgement just from announcing this second pregnancy. We can't afford 2 kids.

I feel so foolish.

I feel like a failure since we live with my in-law's.

I feel like our financial predicament is all my fault. I should have been more careful when applying for student loans. I should have worked harder in part-time jobs. I should have lived in dorms longer. I should have applied for more scholarships.

If I was working, we'd be better off. But could we even afford the childcare? If we have a lot of children we won't.

Resentment grows towards my friends who aren't struggling as much as we are. Some people get bitter at baby announcements. I get bitter at "We just bought a house!" announcements.

We wanted our children two years apart. God is blessing us with that gift. But was it's God's will or mine? We didn't feel a strong feeling to avoid, so we were open. But maybe we should have prayed about it more.

I am always feelings so judged and looked down upon because of our financial situation.

I feel like I should be using the gifts God gave me to supplement our income, but I feel like I have nothing to contribute.

I feel worthless. I feel like I should be working harder.

I feel hopeless. We've prayed for God to lead us in what to do. We're not asking him to send us a winning lottery ticket. We just want to know what to do. He has taken care of us, for sure, but we need to know WHAT TO DO NEXT.

I hate living in the city surrounded by all these rich SOB's. I've never wanted what they have- the big cars, the big houses, the designer clothes, but seeing them reminds me that even a small tiny rental house is unattainable at this time.

I keep thinking that my grandparents survived on nothing and they raised 7 kids. My mom raised me on nothing and I know many other family members that have struggled. They have lived wonderful, happy and fulfilling lives. But I just don't see that happening for us.

I'm so incredibly naive sometimes that when something out of the blue happens- like getting a huge pre-payment bill for my OB- I totally freak out. Of course the bill will be higher, Maggie. Ryan's insurance has changed and we live in a big city now. Duh.

I'm tired of crying over bills and finances. It's a roller coaster that I want to get off of right now.


Of course, being almost 15 weeks pregnant and super duper giantly hormonal doesn't help matters any.

My apologies for such a depressing, crabby-ass post.

I just really needed to get my feelings out there.