“She is just, so, pretty.” I have heard some women say that they die inside every time they hear someone call their daughter pretty. I must be missing the point; I do that a lot, because I don’t get it.

All of my friends are pretty. Not because they grace magazine covers or win pageants. Not because they are envied by all other women at Pilates. Not even because they can sing to animals and make them respond back. My friends are pretty because of the way I feel when I see them. The way my heart becomes a little lighter and my eyes grow a little wider with the knowledge this person is in my life and is good to me.

My daughter is pretty. It runs in my family. My mother, my sisters… all pretty. I am even pretty because I can see in their eyes that the same beautiful way I feel about them, they feel about me, too.  

Pretty does not negate the other fine, or not so fine, qualities of the women in my life.  Intelligent, creative, bossy, sweet, controlling, loud, shy, vain, giving…  They are a part of every human. My hope is that my daughter will have a heavy heaping of whatever makes her happy and a good person. And of course, I hope that she will always remain pretty. 

Ready for You Baby Girl

We are ready for you Marlo Kelly. It has been a long 38 weeks. Downsides included morning (afternoon, evening) sickness, pubic symphysis, sciatica, unmanaged anxiety, hormone imbalances and sickening cravings for over 9 months. I'm ready to reclaim my body and start you on your way to becoming an independent, capable woman...in about 18 to 24 years.

Some women claim they LOVE pregnancy; that being pregnant has been a fun and enjoyable time in their lives. Admittedly, I was one of those women when I would think back on my pregnancy with Henry, four plus years ago. However, I was in my twenties working downtown in a new job I loved with fun friends who would indulge my every pregnancy request and complaint.  Even my fluctuating high blood pressure and numerous non-stress tests couldn't get me down. I splurged on a beautiful, professional maternity wardrobe and strutted in 4 inch hells; I vowed to be a stylish mama to the end.

*Happy family one week before we welcomed home our first child, Henry.  

My second pregnancy experience has presented different challenges. I am now in my early thirties. One month prior to conception, I was laid off from a healthcare management position I was passionate about and it was a real blow to my confidence. Struggling with the depression of losing a job and living with an overworked and over-stressed husband, I tried my best to be a stay at home mom to my 3 year old son. Despite the 18 months of trying to conceive, I was not mentally or emotionally prepared to be pregnant.

*This is me at the hospital the second week of August. I guess I was wishful in that you were arriving early because I spent 3 hours at West Penn to have a tragically virgin intern tell me my water did not break, but I could have peed my pants. I guess I should have been working harder (at all) on my kegel's. 

My luck changed when I entered my second trimester. An unconventional broadcasting company brought me on board as an HR rep temporarily replacing a manager on an extended maternity leave. I was able to work my favorite aspects of human resources - special projects and recruiting - and work with a group of truly wonderful people. I have no doubt that if I do not return to this position post-recovery, I will have made life-long friends. 

*A co-worker assured me Oreos are a great source of iron and I kept a steady supply of them at my desk. Struggling to make sure you come out big and strong baby girl. 

Some may wonder why I needed a J-O-B if I already had the best one...S-A-H-M! Well, to-each-their-own I say. Henry is perfectly happy and thriving in a structured pre-school with friends he has known and played with for 3 years. I will forever offer him my unconditional love, lessons on how to treat those sharing this planet, and hugs and kisses galore; but I know my limitations. I am neither an academic teacher nor a toddler play mate. I have no hesitation in offering my boy the opportunity to get the most out of his childhood, whether it is time spent on my hip or 5 miles away in pre-school.

The opportunity for me work with professionals in a new and exciting industry was at the very least an excellent distraction to a challenging pregnancy.  After 5 months with these folks, I am home with Henry for the final month of pregnancy. Now this I can manage. Although my mother warned me against over scheduling my days, I spent the first week taking daily trips to the zoo, museums, parks and lunches.  While at week 4 I am not giving up on these activities, I am taking it much more slowly.  In less than one week I will be the mother of two small children, and I am balancing relaxation for me and one on one time with Henry.

No situation is perfect and my biggest challenge is not in the challenges themselves, but in realizing the good in my circumstances and not fume over the worst. Now I just need to remember I said that so I can act as an example to my children. No one realizes just how screwed up they are until we can see it – whether it is someone pointing it out or having our offspring mimic what we don’t like about our own personalities. 

So Marlo, our 9 month rooming situation is coming to a close and I am ready to give you my best in this world – or at least give it my best try.  I am not perfect and I will never expect you to be anything more than our girl who gives it her best try; and I know that will be more amazing than anything else I could hope for you. Come safely and swiftly little one. There is much love awaiting you on the outside. 

Movie Day - ParaNorman with 4 year old Hank (and 9th month cooking Marlo)

My son Hank and I went to a half full theater to see the 2:35 pm 3D showing of ParaNorman on its opening day. The theater's population is no reflection on the movie, but rather the theater location. It is a beautiful, new Cinemark theater located in an also new but very desolate mall that boasts more dollar, useless nick-knack and Pittsburgh sports gear and memorabilia stores than it does an entire day's clientele.

In order to have my son stay interested in the movie, I must plan the day carefully or risk a temper tantrum 8 minutes into the credits.  Step 1: feed the kid. At 11:30 I made him one of his favs - Spaghettio's and meatballs, squeezable applesauce and organic vanilla milk. I figure the organic milk balances out the preservatives in the spaghetti dish. Step 2: wear out his little limbs. This unoccupied mall has a room dedicated to bouncy bounces. It is $6 for 30 minutes. Best deal ever, if you can get over the amount of germs that will be distributed all over your child. Today I will get over it. Step 3: manipulate a win-win at the concession stand. Smallest popcorn you have - check. M&M's that I bought at Rite Aid in an appropriate size and price - check. Juice boxes in my bag - check. Step 3: make the kid the leader. "Sure you can wear your fire boots, plaid shorts and a fuzzy sweatshirt in August - I'm sure it will be cozy!", "After you Hank, you choose the seat, sure, right next to the assisted living field trip, great!", "Don't have to go to the bathroom? Want to wait until the movie starts? OK, not a problem!".  The more I can say yes to his fine leadership decisions, the more leeway I have later when I need to repeatedly tell the small Stalin that if I have to tell him to be quiet one more time, Mommy is going to go nucking futs.

So, now we are ready to see ParaNorman. It is in 3D and thankfully they do not offer up used, bulky glasses.   Instead moviegoers get individually wrapped glasses in adult and child sizes. My lice and pink eye worries have immediately been remedied. The movie moved along at a very nice clip and Hank (and I) laughed out loud many times. We only needed to take one bathroom break, and that was for my benefit, not for Hank's. My pregnant super sniffer was able to detect the shoe, or lack thereof, stink of the movie goers behind me - but nothing was going to ruin this day. We are having a great time. 

Until the great time turned into not- enough- of- a- great- time for Prince Hank. Immediately after exiting the darkened theater, Hank looked up at me with a big bright smile and shining eyes. I thought, wow, I'm going to get a "thanks mommy" or even "this was awesome, mommy", but no. Instead, I heard "can we go play the video games?". Ahhhh, the arcade in the theater. A place that I have no interest in entering - ever - to waste money while my son looks at yet another screen.  He got a polite no, then another, and another. Then the pouting and whining set in hard. "I NEVER get to do anything I want, it's not FAIR!”  I just lumbered my 50lb overweight body around a crappy mall, watched him play joyfully in a bounce land while I carefully placed said body on an incredibly uncomfortable folding chair and watched an animated movie while enduring stank toes - all for his enjoyment. I know this is a part of the thankless job of parenting, but it doesn't make taking it any easier. 

Later that evening at bedtime, David read Hank 3 books and tucked him into bed. I leaned down to give him a kiss and Hank said he had a great time today, and sorry for being so mean. I turned, stunned, to David and I swear there was a very pleasantly surprised tear in his eye. It was such a sweet apology - completely sincere and un-coached. So maybe the thankless part of parenting will just always stink. But the sweet parts, like this apology, are worth every lousy second of them.