I counted my chickens too soon....

The doctor's office called with some test results....


I should have known better than to think everything was all okay since I hadn't heard anything. She said it took a while because they wanted to run them twice to be sure.

Prayers please!

Happy Mother's Day!

This just about says it all...

My friend Stephanie sent this out as a MySpace Bulletin. She says it was from the American Baby Website and I have to agree with her...It sums it all up pretty well.

For All Mothers

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at soccer games instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" They could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick children in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Meyer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."

This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can't find their children. This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see and for the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes and for all the mothers who don't.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleeping to dread, from bed to crib at 2 a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

Is it the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?

I think so.

So this is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.

This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then reading it again, "Just one more time".

This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired two year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started to school and for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

For all the mothers who bite their lips (sometimes until they bleed) when their 14 year olds dyed their hair green.

This is for all the mothers who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.

This is for all mothers who show at work with spit-up in their hair and milkstains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

This is for mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home or are grown.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for all the mothers whose children have gone astray and who can't find words to reach them.

This is for all the mothers who sent their child to school with a stomach ache, assuring that they would be just FINE once they got there, only to get a call from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up right away.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working moms and stay-at-home moms. Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money and mothers without.

This is for you, so hang in there. The world would be a terrible place without the love of mothers everywhere. You make it a more civil, caring and safe place for the precious children in our world.

Author unknown

Happy Mother's Day!

I'm way too sensitive.

I had to do something I hate this week. I had to send an email to the Girl Scout parents that was not so nice. I needed to remind them to remind their daughters that any issues with Girl Scouts - meeting, activities, etc. need to be directed to me and NOT JANEY. A couple of the girls have decided that Girl Scout isn't for them and rather than just quit, they are being typical nasty 10 year olds and harassing the leader's kid. Nice, huh? Well, I got so many supportive messages from the other Girl Scout parents. Most of them saying they agree that the attitudes are getting out of hand and that there is no reason for Janey to be a target at school.

And then I get the one from her.

You know, the mom that never shows up? The one who knows how to do everything better than I do, but yet won't lift a finger to help out. The one whose personal choices are always made from the perspective of what's best for her - never what's best for her child. The one whose lifestyle is (in my opinion) bordering on child abuse/neglect.

This email ripped me up one side and back down the other. It went on and on about Janey's behavior, (what?) and how her daughter has learned nothing from Girl Scouts this year at all.

I answered this email in a very nice and polite way. I addressed all of the concerns she expressed and also explained that this email was in no way meant as a personal attack on her or her daughter, it was a general email to parents and the third step in the discipline procedure that I have in place.

I never got a reply.

But here's the kicker -- I spent the entire day crying over this email. I didn't get anything done that I had planned to do. I just sat and blubbered about this woman's ridiculousness all day.

I let a person for whom I have no respect dictate how I felt about myself. Stupid, huh? I know. So what do I do now? How do I deal with the fact that I am just way too sensitive? I kind of like the fact that I'm passionate about things, but is it possible to be passionate and tough at the same time? Will a tougher exterior make me less approachable? Am I even capable of developing a tougher skin - and for that matter- do I even really want one?

I've been robbed! (Thanks, Chellie!)

Theft Problem :

You've heard about people who have been abducted and had their kidneys removed by black-market organ thieves.

My thighs were stolen from me during the night a few years ago. I went to sleep and woke up with someone else's thighs. It was just that quick. The replacements had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Whose thighs were these and what happened to mine?

I spent the entire summer looking for my thighs. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans. And then the thieves struck again.

My butt was next. I knew it was the same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear-end to the thighs they had stuck me with earlier. But my new butt was attached at least three inches lower than my original! I realized I'd have to give up my jeans in favor of long skirts.

Two years ago I realized my arms had been switched. One morning I was fixing my hair and was horrified to see the flesh of my upper arm swing to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush. This was really getting scary - my body was being replaced one section at a time. What could they do to me next?

When my poor neck suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a turkey neck, I decided to tell my story. Women of the world, wake up and smell the coffee! Those 'plastic' surgeons are using REAL replacement body parts -stolen from you and me! The next time someone you know has something 'lifted', look again - was it lifted from you?

THIS IS NOT A HOAX. This is happening to women everywhere every night.

WARN YOUR FRIENDS!

P. S. Last year I thought someone had stolen my Boobs. I was lying in bed and they were gone! But when I jumped out of bed, I was relieved to see that they had just been hiding in my armpits as I slept. Now I keep them hidden in my waistband