Personal Baby Time.

Today was the first time I've spent time alone with The Baby. The Babe took a trip to the movies for the first time with her mom, so that left me alone with the almost-one-year-old for nearly the whole day.

I gotta tell you...I had a blast! And I think she did, too. It was totally different to hang out with her and not have to yell at The Babe to stop pushing her, stop pulling her, stop hitting her on the head...etc.

Instead, she didn't cry at all and we played. And she enjoyed our walk. And she learned. I taught her things! One of them being probably the cutest thing you will ever see.

The cutest thing you will ever see.

I'm also in the midst of teaching her a bit of sign language. She knows, but hasn't quite mastered, the sign for "more." At lunch today, I gave her a few peas from my plate and when she was done, she asked for more! My heart melted a little. I tried to get it on video, but it didn't really work, considering I was holding my fork, her spoon, and her baby food jar. I'll try to get it another time...

She's definitely a cool baby.

As much fun as I had today, it left me feeling bad. I realized that I spend most of my time telling The Babe not to do stuff to The Baby. They don't really play well together...so now I need to think of ways to make them play well together. Does that make sense?

I put blocks in front of them, thinking they'll have fun. The Babe creates towers, The Baby knocks them down. Babe yells, probably pushes. Baby cries.

Babe gets out her tea set. Baby grabs a cup. Babe yells, probably pushes (the tea, of course, wasn't done cooking yet!). Baby cries.

Stuff like that. All day.

Personal Baby Time is my favorite! Personal Babe Time is my favorite, too!

It's getting harder and harder to keep up with both at the same time...

Here's hoping I'll be able to figure it out soon.

Excitement-Filled Weekend.

Remember when I said that all of a sudden, one day, everything happened at once? From a softball invitation, to jury summons, to house info...? This weekend was practically as exciting! I had so much to do. I mean, it wasn't even stuff I had to do! Huge difference. Can you tell I don't get out much? By choice, of course.

Anyway, Friday afternoon, I was invited to play in a slow-pitch softball game that night. Remember, I wasn't expecting to play for weeks! But they were a player down so I said, in not so many words, "heck yes!"

I was immediately fired up. The last time I played, I was a sophomore in college.

And let me tell you, it showed.

I was embarrassed at how much I sucked. Now, going from fast-pitch to slow-pitch is NOT an easy transition. There are so many more rules, and it's so much more laid back that it was almost uncomfortable. For example, if a batter hits a ball at the pitcher, they are automatically out.

I can understand that rule, but when you (I) are (am) playing second base and you are so used to fielding the ball and firing it to first, it wracks your brain to stop the momentum and toss the ball to the pitcher instead.

Also, a female batter hits a ball much smaller and lighter than a male batter. Yes, the pitcher actually switches out the ball. That is not something I can get used to. I went from fielding a regulation-sized softball and firing it to first, to grabbing an abnormally heavy and wide ball in the midst of a double play.

Yeah, I fired it to first. And yeah, I over threw it. And yeah, it would have killed someone if they were sitting in the stands where it landed.

It was impossible to gauge.

But as I slowly got used to defense, offense was a mess. I went 0-3. Although, I did make contact with the ball every time. They were just...caught. It's a long wait from pitcher to batter. Almost too long.

As bad as it went, it felt great to be out on the field again. The man who'll be leading the team I'm playing on next season said I did great. He said it was very apparent that I knew what I was doing and was very talented at fast-pitch softball. He told me slow-pitch is all about timing and that I should be able to pick it up no problem.

Here's hoping!

Saturday morning I ventured out to run some errands.

Donated food and toys that my dogs refuse to play with to the Humane Society, went to the drug store for pH strips (explanation to come later), ran into the library to renew my library card, then headed to a local pet store for more info/products on helping The Pup with her UTI.

Yes, the Cattie has a UTI. Her second one in a year of her life. And of course, instead of prescribing something that actually works, her vet told me to put her on Hill's Science Diet for two months to clear it up.

NOT.

I did my own research, found out how to test her urine (that's where the pH strips come in), figured out how to keep her urine acidic enough to get rid of the infection, and bought the cranberry supplement to help.

So far, so good.

And yes, I do chase The Pup around the backyard with a plastic cup in hand. Can you picture it?

Don't.

I'm still trying to figure out how to return the $22 bag of "dog food" to the vet after Rocket's urine tests clean.

Can you picture that? I can.

"Oh, you mean you cleared this all up without using the food that claims it's the only thing that works? Will you continue to question my diagnoses and advice on the health of your dog?"

Err...awkward. I fear that day!

I know this entry is already way too long, but what's a blog without a picture? This is my attempt at an ad for anti-breed specific laws!

Hate the deed, not the breed. The Pit and The Babe.

And of course, what's my blog without an MJ reference?

Youngest. Moonwalker. Ever.

Is that You?

Today, I've had more activity in my life than the past two years. And everything that happened was good, or at least going to be good.

First off, I got a call from a friend I haven't heard from in a long, long time. She asked if I'd like to be on her husband's slow-pitch softball team! I was ecstatic. I said yes right away, then found out the details. A little backwards, but hey, I was beyond excited. I haven't played softball in nearly five years! Granted, it's slow-pitch. But I'd give anything to be back on the field. And hey, I'll be making friends! Local friends! Cop friends! haha

Then I got a text from my dad informing me that I've been summoned to jury. For some reason, I got really excited. I've never been summoned before and I've actually been dreading it, but then I thought back to all the nights at Teen Court in high school and hey...it could be fun...right? It's definitely something different.

Although, I do have a feeling it's for a very high profile case in the area, and due to my bias and relationship with the victim, I'm convinced the defense would pay me millions to not be in that box. But that's if it is the case I'm thinking of.

When I got home from work, I checked my e-mail and saw one from my realtor. Things are looking very good for the house I put an offer on. I have to stop there, though, to avoid jynxing any hope I have left.

I couldn't help but get extremely excited (again) for my non-profit organization. Today made me wonder if God is excited, too. Like, He's giving me lots of things to be excited about to build up this joy.

I'm also wondering if Michael Jackson is nudging Him in the elbow...

30 Minutes of Euphoria

Yeah, 30 minutes of euphoria. At work. Can you say that?

Anyway, this morning, during our usual walk time, the county was under a severe thunderstorm warning. Usually, I shrug those off and we go play outside anyway, but not today! The sky was black, the thunder was rolling, and lightning may or may not have struck the side yard. I had to think of something for The Kids and I to do during our "workout" time.

The Babe's new favorite thing to do is play musical chairs. I introduced her to it a few weeks ago and she can't get enough of the loud music and running around the living room. She gets a real kick out of the music stopping. I run to a chair and she just cracks up and runs to her chair. It really is too fun.

But today was different. Today was way more fun than usual.

In one of his interviews, Michael Jackson said that when he dances, he thinks of nothing. Nothing. To dance is to not think.

Today, during 30 minutes of musical chairs, I didn't think for a second. I danced. And I was taught moves I've never seen before by a three-and-a-half year old.

I took videos on my phone and I haven't been able to transfer them to my computer, just a website. So these links will have to do. I encourage you to watch them. I mean, maybe you'll learn some moves, too! And if not, maybe the next time you are with some kids, this will at least teach you to not think.

Video 1

Video 2

You'll have to excuse the lack of light. It was very dark outside, and there's only one light in the living room. And for better results, turn your speakers up really loud.

Yes, we were listening to Black Eyed Peas. And yes, The Babe does know the words to some of their songs. Except, instead of saying "Don't phunk with my heart" she says, "Don't stink my heart."

I laugh every time.

Media overload, today!

I leave you with The Babe's example of a still life painting.

Bananas!

Too Blessed.

I was told today that I was "just a babysitter."

Yes, I realize I am 24 years old. Yes, I realize I graduated from college two years ago. And yes, I realize I get paid to do a 12-year-old's job.

Do people really think this is what I had planned for my life? My last week of college, I pictured myself sitting in an office at a Christian radio station, developing the best contests any radio station has ever implemented.

But then I graduated. Then I came home. Then realized that my dream job had to be put on hold, since NO ONE was hiring. Or they were hiring and were unwilling to hire someone "not within."

Then my brother turned to me, and asked me if I'd be willing to watch his daughter while he and his wife worked.

Fine. It was money. And I needed it big time.

A few months in, when The Babe became "more fun", I started actually teaching her. Shapes, colors, numbers, letters, etc. Then I progressed into more complex things. I helped potty train her, I've weaned her off her pacifier (though in her household, it's called a dooky), and I've helped teach her to swim.

Then her little sister was added to the picture. Currently, she's still in her "trying to figure out the workings of the world" stage, but I still get to have fun with The Babe. Everyday. I love watching her face when she learns something new. And I love it even more when she repeats something I taught her weeks ago. It's like my life completes itself every time that happens.

Now, I realize this isn't going to be my career. At least I hope not. But after being told I was "just a babysitter" for the third time in a week, I felt a little...lower than society. It made me think about why I couldn't find a "real" job. It made me wonder if I was trying as hard as I should be. I mean, surely I should be making more than I am now and trading in my "living room office" for a corner one, my crayons in for a pen, and my three-year-old job subjects to 20-40 years older ones. Right?

I thought about this on my way home tonight. I mean, I think about it a lot, but after hearing that statement again today, I thought about it more tonight.

Then I saw it.

The cliche statement of all time. Posted on one of those cliche church signs.

"We are too blessed to be depressed."

I had to laugh. Out loud. I've heard it a bazillion times.

But this time it was different. It was...true.

I mean, I was driving away from two of my nieces who I get to see daily. And I was driving toward even more family, and two of, seriously, the best dogs that God has ever created.

I really am blessed.

This is what my life is.

It's not what I pictured. At all.

But is life ever really what you pictured for yourself?

G for Egg.

I went to work today unprepared. This week, I am teaching The Babe the letter G, and usually with every letter I have a craft set up. Well, after learning about gardens, grasshoppers, giraffes, gorillas, and guitars this past week, I had no idea what was next. I was going to just improvise.

I put The Baby in her stroller, leashed the Pit Bull, and as The Babe held on to the stroller, we were off on our morning walk. We headed down the driveway, talking about how Green the Grass was, when I looked down. There, on the ground, was a freshly hatched egg.

I gasped. I bent down to look inside but it was empty. It was either a snake egg or a bird egg. Teeny tiny. The Babe looked at it and wanted so badly to pick it up and show her sister but I wouldn't let her. Who knows what was inside it.

We left it on the ground, but during the following fifteen minutes, we talked about what hatches from eggs. Birds, turtles, snakes, etc. It was a good lesson, but I still didn't really have an idea for a craft.

Then it hit me like a ton of eggs! You see, every week, The Babe learns a new letter. She started with A...this week is G. With every lesson, she learns how to write the letter, what it says, and some words that start with it. Well, since I was all out of G words, I was at a loss. Until I thought about how egg is spelled. With an E. The Babe could actually spell egg. (She knows how to spell words like dad, bed, bad - you know, words that are spelled with letters A-G). EGG! DUH!

We got back to the house, and while The Baby napped and The Babe watched Sesame Street, I set up her craft. Her egg craft.

It was a hit. We glued and she practiced her Gs. Then she spelled egg. She immediately remembered our conversation during our walk. "Member the egg? On the ground?"

She makes my heart smile.

Thank God for that egg.

I'm happier lately. Noticing these little things are what I need to do. And writing them down is even better.

And as cheesy as it sounds, I continuously need to thank Michael Jackson.

Thank you.

And for those of you interested, here is a picture of the egg craft from today.

I put a square around the two "eggs" in her handwriting (top left & bottom left).

Getting Excited.

I need to start celebrating the little things. I think if I do that, everyday life will be easier. Accepting the little things as gifts from God will prepare me for life on my own, and the start of this organization swirling around in my head.

So, I'm going to write the little things down. And by write, I mean type. Here.

I was walking out the door this evening to walk the dogs and the clouds were spelling STORM all over them. But that was the reason I was walking them. The past few weeks, I've skipped the evening walks all together because 102 degree weather burning the pavement all day probably doesn't feel too good on the dogs' feet. And I'm not really OK with walking in 102 degree weather, either, but right before a storm, it's cooler.

Anyway, we were halfway down the street and it started drizzling lightly. A few drops here and there. Nothing steady. It really was a beautiful feeling. But I prayed that He would just hold off the storm until we were done, home safe. And dry. Petty, I know.

We finished the walk, headed up the driveway, and the hugest clap of thunder ever roared. My oldest dog is not OK with thunder, so he wanted to get inside, but I made him sit before I opened the door. Mind you, it wasn't raining yet, just the sporadic sprinkle.

He refused to sit, and while my youngest dog was busy rolling around in who knows what, I repeated the command until he did. When he did, I opened the door and we walked in. Not thirty seconds after I shut the door, it started. The rain. Major downpour.

Amazing.

Oh, and I can't forget about the amazing sunrise this morning.

Noted.

I feel different. A good different. And I can't help but think that this feeling began on June 25th, 2009.

Debut.

Hello.

I'm starting my blog a little earlier than expected. I wanted to wait until I was out on on my own. I'm house hunting. I'm not even sure if I can afford it, but I'm 24 and I need this. I at least need that teeny sense of independence...

I'm starting the blog early because I need to. I need to write this down before I forget what I'm feeling right now. For some reason, I don't want to forget this feeling.

On June 25th of this year, 2009, Michael Jackson died. Until that date, I was not an avid fan of his music. I just enjoyed it. I enjoyed listening to his early tunes, his hits, and his ballads to be heard around the world about poverty. I watched with the world as he went to trial, in his pajamas, in 2004 and will admit I rolled my eyes when he was found not guilty on all charges. After that day, I didn't hear anything from him or by him, and I didn't really care.

When news broke of his death, I told my friends and family. Texted, Tweeted, Facebooked, etc. I wasn't overwhelmed with emotion though. To me, it was just another tragic death that came way too early.

The night before his memorial, MSNBC ran an encore presentation of ABC's special "Living with Michael Jackson" that originally aired in 2003. I watched so intently and gained a new respect for Michael Jackson. He cried as he told Martin Bashir, the interviewer, about how he was beaten and often thrown against the wall by his father if he did the steps to a dance wrong. He was ten years old at the time. I almost cried along with him.

He was adamant about how false the accusations against him were regarding child molestation and abuse. He explained what was wrong with the world. The disappearance of bonding. Parents don't hug their kids anymore. He felt that the reason the tragedy at Columbine High School happened was because of a missing bond between the suspects and their parents.

Well, who knows if it's true.

But the emotion I expressed the next day, during his memorial at the Staples Center on July 7th, was true. I cannot fathom what Michael Jackson had to go through every day of his life. I don't even want to try to. But he definitely looked past the negative and pushed on - changing the world in any way he could. He visited veterans in hospitals, he befriended Ryan White and wrote a song for him when he died, he traveled the world wanting to make a difference.

During the memorial, I bawled when "We Are the World" was sung and people in London, Harlem and anywhere else you can imagine were singing in unison, as Michael Jackson's three young children joined in. Then I looked at his casket and couldn't believe he was in it. How could someone with so much passion for changing the world die so young? So early?

I'm not claiming to know anything about Michael Jackson's daily life or thoughts, where his heart was when he died, or where exactly he is spending eternity. He wasn't perfect, but neither am I. And neither are you. But for some reason, I want to...I need to believe that God is telling Michael Jackson, as He points to me, "That woman is going to change the world because of you."

I fully plan to.

Maybe not now. Maybe not in a year. But I have ideas in my head that will at least change the way people in the United States look at others, care for others, help others, and love others the way they don't now.

Stay tuned.

Because I'm starting with the woman in the mirror.