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Zac (per usual). And his tee.

You can grab ‘em here. We just need a “Some Gals Marry Gals. Get Over It” version.

Bad things happen in 3s.

1. Sunny’s mystery illness.

2. James’ violent 24-hour stomach virus. I won’t horrify you with the details. And that’s saying a lot considering what I do share on this blog. Let’s just say that there were bodily fluids defying gravity in ways we had yet to experience. It. Was. Awful. I am knocking my head on wood in the hopes of avoiding this fate. I’d rather a mind-numbing migraine than that ugly beast.

And 3. Today, we finally got around to taking Ursa back into the Vet because the lameness in her front, left shoulder had returned. To the point where she’s been functioning as a three-legged being.

Apparently, all is not okay. (Despite the normal X-ray results we had in December).

She has tendinitis in her bicep. Which is a lifelong condition. And a painful one at that. Lots of physical therapy and pain medication is all we can do to treat the issue. I can barely fathom the expense of this, let alone the investment of time and energy. But that’s the risk of being a parent. She’s no less my child than Addison or Courtland.

What I found most devastating about this diagnosis is that Ursa will never ever again be able to chase a tennis ball.

There is nothing on Earth that brings her more joy than chasing tennis balls.

We are taking away a piece of her.

She came home from the Vet, stoned out of her mind, jowls slack, eyes clouded, a shell of her former self.

And my heart broke. Why can’t I make all this pain that’s happening to my babies stop? Isn’t that what a mother’s supposed to do? Make all of the hurt go away?

It’s suffocating. The helplessness.

When I’m not cleaning up diarrhea and vomit and trying to figure out what is causing these explosions (Not liver disease! Not diabetes! Kidney infection? Leukemia? (I shouldn’t even write that word. It’s too terrifying. I need to stay the hell away from Google Rx and await the doctor’s call about the info in Sunny’s stool and urine sample. All we do know right now is that her white blood cell count is high and she’s been sick for going on four weeks. Weeee!) This situation has taught me and James the wonders of helping a toddler pee in a cup, poop in a hat, stomach a blood draw, and swallow adult prescription pills. It’s a barrel of health and wellness chez Cart! (Enough parentheticals! Even I’ve lost my train of thought so I can only imagine how this post is going for you. (Not well)))…

As I was saying, when I’m not playing Nurse Nancy, I’m marveling at our second born who can sit up unassisted for minutes at a time and can make her way across a room through a series of rolls and yoga poses and army crawls. We have a full blown baby in our midst. And it’s outrageously fun and adorable.

Behold! Because video of puke and feces isn’t nearly as endearing!

P.S. Now James is hanging close to the bathroom and I’m incapacitated by a period-induced migraine. Curses! *fist shaking to the sky*

After 16 months without, I’m less-than-pleased with Flow’s timing.

Happy weekend to us!

This is what I gifted James for Valentine’s Day, because we spend an inordinate amount of our time together in a bathroom environment. Namely dealing with other people’s bodily fluids. Romance at its best.

And this is what he gifted me:

Apparently he really wants to get laid, because nothing makes my heart soar more than the prospect of chicken ownership. My reaction may have been akin to Kristen Bell’s. My chickens are to her sloth. This analogy clearly belongs on the SAT.

I know how self-congratulatory these posts are. But this one relates to an article that I think is worth a read. I was emailed a link to this post with the following thought included in the message:

This is what is so vital about your writing – it is rigorously focused on the activities and hard choices of adulthood.

If I’m achieving that in even a very small capacity, I’m satisfied. I’ll keep striving to push into uncomfortable realms, breaking down that BFF-ship – even if I do make occasional mention of my “lady” parts -  because that’s where the most important learning happens. I still stand by all I said here. And I hope I can continue to provide a perspective that opens people’s eyes. Makes them laugh. Makes them think. All with a dash of humility, honesty, and cute photo or two thrown in for good measure.

Because sometimes I get letters like this from a reader:

Just one of many reasons why I inhabit this space. Thanks, Eric. And happy weekend to all.

In 2007 we got engaged and moved across the country. In 2008, we were married, announced our first pregnancy, and I started a Master’s program. In 2009, we welcomed that baby, Addison, into the world. In 2010, I received my Master’s degree and started back to work full time, we moved back across the country, rescued our super mutt, Hanna, and announced a second pregnancy. In 2011, we welcomed that second child, Courtland, into the world.

And so, James and I have determined that 2012 is the year of NO BIG LIFE ALTERING EVENTS.

As much as we can control sticking to that kind of resolution, of course.

We had a discussion this evening, processing the past five years and all those crazy life happenings, and we’ve decided that this year we are forgoing major milestones. Ya hear, UNIVERSE? Sure, home ownership would be the next appropriate step, but that thought is so overwhelmingly exhausting that I say, NO! We have the absolute ideal rental situation, so until we have to give up these digs in the summer of 2013, we’re staying put. Settling in. Building upon and growing the already established, quiet, lovely life that we are creating for our family in The Berkshires. Focusing on our growing girls. Our family of four (or six if you count our furry dependents). I’ll be overhauling and rethinking this space and Green Eyed Monster to more accurately account for the direction and focus I’d like to provide my creative side and resulting impulses. And I’ll be settling back into a full year of work without the interruptions of a maternity leave. Perhaps I’ll finally stick to my resolution of not biting my nails or picking at my face. I actually may learn how to properly wield a camera and edit in Lightroom. I could get real crazy and finally learn to sew like I’ve always wanted.

So, 2012, let’s be uneventful, shall we?

And uneventful most surely does not mean boring. Life is anything but when you have rascals like this living in your home.

Cheers to 2012, the year of minor milestones and baby steps, in the most figurative and literal of senses.

I like that. Yes, yes I do.

It was a merry Christmas, indeed. Sunny requested that every member of the family sing Rudolph at least five times, and if we hadn’t distracted her with cookies, it could have gone on all day.

I particularly love Courtland chilling on the couch in the corner of the video and my raspy, out of pitch voice enthusiastically blaring in the background. Sunny sure did love twirling that Christmas skirt, too.

James and I were nostalgic, emotional messes most of the day. Okay, mostly me, although he deigned to admit that it was a pretty magical state of affairs. We realize that we’ll only get so many Christmases like this where both of our families – our parents, our siblings, our friends, our children – are all alive, healthy, well, happy. Christmases where our children wholeheartedly believe in the magic of Santa, and joy and happiness are in abundance. We are very very blessed. And filled with ooey, gooey, weepy gratitude.

It really was the perfect Christmas.

How did Kimmy and I spend Christmas Eve afternoon? Why making a stop motion Christmas video, of course!

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