Moments in time

Every moment and every breath is a moment in our past. Have you ever had a moment that was so dear to you that you knew immediately that you would remember it forever. Most of the time we are running around ragged trying to get things done or to get somewhere on time that we don't experience the fullness of every moment. We are all guilty of it. It would be weird for us not to be - that is what makes these moments so special. Well, I had a brief moment today that caught my attention and this brief still in my life will be carried with me forever.

I'll try to explain it but it won't seem significant to you. But, if you are a mom you know what I am talking about.

So there I was on my computer checking email, of course. Nolan was sitting on the potty and Addison was crawling in the den at my feet. Suddenly, Nolan comes into the den naked. As you may already know a three-years-old must remove all articles of clothing to make a poop in the potty. I wonder why that is? Well, anyway, my naked Nolan comes into the room pouting, "I want hugs, mom. Mom I want big hugs." So I get on the floor and hug him tight. He proceeds to tackle me to the ground, hugging me tighter and pinning me on my back. So we lay their hugging; my son on top of me, my left arm hugging him back while my right arm lay flat on the ground extended out straight and long. Moments later Addison crawls up and snuggles her butt inside the angle of my body, resting her head gently on my right shoulder and like a puppy dog petting herself against my right arm so that I would include her in the hug. And so my moment happened. We all lay on the floor snuggling together safe and sound. I will never ever forget that hug.

What does Santa want for Christmas?

Have you ever wondered what Santa Claus wants for Christmas? He must want something. His red velvet jumpsuit is totally outdated and I am certain the warranty on his sleigh expired years ago. Has anyone ever seen his list? Probably not and he has probably never made one; it is the farthest thing from his mind. That is what makes Santa Claus so wonderful. He gives without receiving, expects nothing and knows everything. Hmm. How do we ever repay him?

Well, I am going to make a list for Santa and if I could afford an excursion to the North Pole to deliver the items I would. So Santa, wherever you are, thanks for all the gifts that I have received over the past three or so decades. Here are a few things I think you need.

1. A new hairdo - With the right cut you could look like Robert Redford.
2. A new outfit - Red pants are out-of-style.
3. A new ride - It's got to be cold out there, don't you think? How about a new copper red Mazda CX-7: safety, quality and affordable all wrapped up with a bow. Heated seats can warm your tush and the hatchback is big enough to stow all the toys. There is even room for a few reindeer; they can accompany you on your trip.
4. A little help - Santa, you are only one person and I think it's time we all pitch in and help with the gift giving. So, in honor of you, let's all give a gift to someone we don't know.

What's that Santa? Speak up.

Oh, yeah. I didn't think about that. If you don't have your sleigh to land on the roof top how would you get inside to deliver the presents. Well, I guess the car is out. Just leave the keys with me. And, since you are out in the cold weather you should wear your red velvet pants; they will keep you warm. The boots can go, though. You know....Santa, crocs are very popular this year; they also come with an insulated interior.

Christmas Shopping

Well, I failed at my first attempt to finish holiday shopping early. On Friday I decided I was going to start and finish my Christmas shopping this weekend. That idea went up in flames when I realized I wasn't going to get out at all to shop. But, I did manage to buy one gift. So, I'll try again this week.

I am enjoying the season, though. Despite bitter temperatures I ran 8 miles and saved myself, just a little, from over-indulging in party foods both Saturday and Sunday night. I love the Christmas season. The celebratory moments begin early with Christmas parties, appearances by Santa who often comes with plates piled high with cookies and cake snacks, and of course all the time spent at church remembering and giving thanks for this holiday - my three-year-old son asked when we were going to sing Happy Birthday to Jesus. After I told him Christmas morning he asked how many candles would go on the cake. I was stumped! So now I guess I need a birthday cake as well as the other holiday goodies that have become our tradition.

So the season brings more than just festivities we can't decline. It also brings tighter blue jeans and tummy's that are at often times, still full in the morning. But we don't have to loose hope. We can stay motivated together. Just click on the link titled, "Running Through Life," to read about my workouts and tell us what you to do to allow yourself another Christmas cookie. And, if you want or are in need of a good holiday recipe click on the link titled, "Easy, Breezy Meals." In fact, the crock pot roast I made last night, for my in-laws, is one you won't want to miss. I was still hoorayed this morning and I still feel quite accomplished.

Enjoy the season

How many of you have started and finished your Christmas shopping? Well, we haven't started. I like to wait until the very last minute so that I can get all stressed out, spend too much money and freak out like all the other procrastinators waiting in line at the post office to mail their packages just days before Christmas morning.

If you are anything like me you are not sitting around twiddling your thumbs to the beat of Jingle Bells and enjoying every sip of mulled cider or hot cocoa. Instead, you are slamming your cup of coffee, half of it dripping down your face, half way out the door.

So what is the point to my rambling, you ask? Well, I am starting my New Year's resolution early. In fact, I am starting it now. I am going to be more organized and less stressed. So, my goal is to finish my shopping this weekend and enjoy the rest of the holiday, appreciating every scent of pine or cranberry, every taste of pumpkin spice and every hug and tug around my waist by my little ones asking for one more toy. I am going to enjoy it all.

What everyone else wants for Christmas

Well, since I told you what I want for Christmas I better tell you what the rest of the family wants. Here we go:

Dad

1. More alone time with mom
2. Tickets to the Red-Wings
3. Tickets to the Lions
4. Tickets to MSU football game
5. Hunting weekend with no eyes-rolling, eyes-popping response of, "no way...not again."
6. More time with mom
7. Homemade pheasant casserole
8. A babysitter on New Year's Eve
9. To sleep in until 8 a.m.
10. More time with mom

What he will actually get

1. A black North Face Patagonia - since he lost his coat from last year. How do you loose a coat?
2. More time with mom

The kiddies

My three-year-old son

1. Birthday cake

What he will actually get

1. CandyLand - the Dora version
2. Twister - also on my list
3. Ice skating lessons
4. A train table - if I can find a used one
5. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom book - his favorite book from preschool

My nine-month-old

1. Gerber puffs

What she will actually get

1. Gerber puffs
2. My son's toys
3. The boxes my son's toys came in
4. An identification bracelet - a keepsake she will have for life
5. Baby and Me music classes from Kindermusic or from Chelsea Center for the Arts

All I want for Christmas Is

Can you believe it is Thanksgiving Day today? I can’t. And I can’t believe I have seen Santa twice already. The first time was just a few days after Halloween. I was charging through the mall when I spied the jolly old man, with his long curly beard, red jumpsuit and stocking hat. He already captured the attention of shoppers and children parading by. Yikes!

I am not ready to start thinking about the holidays. The temperatures are still manageable and the thought of snow, even flurries, makes my knees buckle. Sorry, Santa but I really wish you would go home and return in a few weeks. That is what I wanted to say, but since he is the one who fills the stockings I kept my mouth shut and smiled graciously.

But since you are already here you might as well have my wish list. These are the top ten gift items that all moms need.

1. Gift certificates to Bearclaw coffee
2. A 3-month pass to TreeHouse
3. Gift certificate for a massage
4. Car wash gift card
5. Cinnamon Bark countertop wash by Method
6. Annual pass to the Metro parks
7. The game of Twister
8. Yankee candle in a yummy scent like Banana Bread or Gingerbread
9. Lip plumper gloss by Avon
10. A digital camera to capture all the precious moments of my family.

Here are two bonus ideas since all suggestions are equally important and must remain on the list:

11. For the runner, like me, Nike + iPod Sport Kit
12. For the wine enthusiast the recently released book, “From the Vine: Exploring Michigan Wineries – this book can be purchased at your local book store or on the website www.michiganvine.com.

Whatever you do Santa, please don’t bring me candy. I am still recovering from sugar coma and bloating from Halloween. So, since the day after Thanksgiving is Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year, I thought you should know what today‘s mom wants for Christmas.

But don’t feel obligated to buy me anything, of course – all I really need is smiling faces and a lot of lights to surround my big Christmas tree. But, just for the record I have been very good this year.

I try to give them naps, really I do!

What potty training tactics worked for you?

Lesson learned. No more gum drops. No more candy, period! Apparently, all my attempts to bribe my three-year-old son with gum drops failed when I reached the bottom of the candy dish and realized I was the only one suffering from sugar coma. Ugh! Now, I feel totally bloated, especially since Halloween has come and gone and more sugar has spiraled me out of control. At least I am potty trained. But he is still not, well wasn't until today when I finally realized he could care less about the last gum drop in the sugar bowl. I might as well lick the bowl clean - that's how bad I've been.

So, in my last attempt to rid him of diapers I said, "No more shows until you go poop or pee in the potty. No more Blue's Clue's, no more Dora and no more Diego." For two days we didn't turn the television on, and then he started asking to watch a show. I didn't cave. Guess what? It worked. I am brilliant! First he went poop in the potty and hoorayed himself until the cows came home. Next he went pee and bowed to receive his prize of an episode of Dora. Now, he is hooked and I am smiling pretty. I just hope he doesn't expect to watch television every time he makes something in the pot. Now, I've got bigger fish to fry.

The sad part of this story is that I don't even like gum drops.

My daughter is a goat

Help! I think my daughter is turning into a goat. Pinocchio turned into one, remember? Or, was it a donkey? Well, I think Addison is turning into one, too. Every time I turn around she is eating something: paper, crumbs, leaves, dirt, scraps of food from the floor, toys and then paper, again. I am constantly scooping things out of her mouth - once it was a little rubber stopper from the top of my perfume bottle. How did she get it you ask? Good question. As much as I praise myself for keeping an iron-clad, child-proof home I am stunned to find her chewing on yet another foreign object. Hooray for the angels who keep an extra eye on her and for the goats who have given me something to talk about today.

Let me explain

If you were trick-or-treating at my house you probably wondered why I still have a tulip wreath hanging on my front door. You probably also want to know why there was a scary looking spider web weaved through its center. Well, I was going for that look. It's Halloween and I was pretending it was still Spring and well, about the spider web, I was trying to scare you. Did it work?

I am a faker, too

Alright, I got caught red-handed. I am a faker, too. My husband quickly pointed out that I admitted, in writing, to be pretend sleeping when he came to bed the other night. So, for the record we are both fakers.

If you have no idea what I am talking about please read the excerpts below.

Give a little. Take a lot!

Not the title we are used to. Usually we say, "Give a lot, take a little." But not on Halloween. On Halloween it is the opposite, if you are a parent. Now wait, let me explain my comment before you run off saying that I told you to take the candy and run. Nope, not what I meant.

Halloween is my favorite holiday of the year. I love pumpkin picking, hayrides, haunted houses, cider and donuts and, most of all, dressing up in costume. For one day of the year we can be whatever we want - something funny, scary, beautiful. There are no limits on Halloween - the only rule is that we are not ourselves for the day, well not on the outside anyway.

On top of utilizing our creative energy to the fullest degree on the most spirited day of the year, we are encouraged to eat candy all the while. Usually, we skip the candy aisle in the grocery store. Usually, we tell our child to put down the piece of chocolate. But today we let them have it. We dress them up; we take their picture for the hundredth time repeatedly saying, "cheese, look at me." And, then we shove a piece of candy in their mouth. At the end of the day they are all sugared up and fall to bed, comatose.

Later, when the magic ends and the sugar dissolves into nothing we expect them to go back to their normal routine of putting the chocolate down and skipping dessert. "Yeah, right," our kids think. So the title of "Give a little, take a lot" comes into play. Go trick or treating and get as much candy as you want. And, at the end of the day let them revel in the sugar, a little and take the rest. Hide it. Destroy it. Give it away or save it and, once in a while, let them have a piece to remind them of the special treat Halloween brings only once a year.

Another long night

This is how it all went down. After a tiresome day with two non-sleepy children I went to bed early, 9:45 p.m. I was thrilled to tuck myself into bed and sleep tight until morning. I knew my 8-month-old wouldn't stir because she only slept five hours the night before and remained up all day, teasing me with cat naps. So, there I lay waiting to fall asleep. I finally fell into dream land when my husband came to bed at 11:45 p.m. He can't silently ease into bed. But, I pretend to be asleep, you all know why. So, anyways after he starts snoring I get up to use the bathroom for the final time. It's now 12:15 p.m and I fall asleep again; my REM sleeps takes off. Uhhhh, I finally retreat into a non-mom mode, in my dreams.

The red light blinks 1:30 a.m. when two tiny feet shuffle into my room. "Nolan, go back to bed," I repeat several times in a loud whisper. His feet turn and he heads back to his room. "Uhhh, that wasn't to bad," I think. Moments later, the shuffle returns. He doesn't say anything. He sneaks in the room, tries to climb into bed with us, without us knowing of course. Peeking at the clock, 2:05 a.m. "Go back to bed, Nolan."

He turns and returns to his slumbering spot to return only 15 minutes later. Still, no words escape his lips. Finally, dad gets up and takes him back to bed. Dad never returns. Uhhh, finally.

And, so I doze off, dream plenty and wake to my 8-month-old at 4:25 a.m. "Holy Crap." I peel myself out of bed and somehow make it upstairs, I had yet to open my eyes. She is howling, now. But as I pull her up and hold her tight I can't be mad. She is my precious girl with big poops in her pants. I change her diaper and head back to bed. 4:45 a.m. shines bright.

5:20 a.m. blinks in my eyes as another howl yelps out of the baby monitor. I'll give her 5 minutes. If she is still crying I'll make a bottle. She is sound asleep in 4 minutes. The clock now reads 5:25 a.m., then 6:05 a.m., then 6:25 a.m.

Finally, I get up to go to the bathroom and then proceed to the coffee maker. Without caffeine I would fall flat on my face and die. Well, I wouldn't die because my kids would have too much fun climbing all over me and pulling my hair saying, "Giddy up, mama, giddy up." I'd have to get up to save my hair.

My husband is a faker

Last night was not a good night. My 8-month-old was up all night long. She must be teething, again, because nothing could soothe her and no one could comfort her but me. Although, I was the only one trying. It always amazes me that I am the only one who hears a crying infant at night. Or, is it that my husband pretends not to hear. He is a faker: his eyes are shut tight, he faces away from me and all snoring stops. On most nights, he is in my face sawing logs. His snoring causes such disruption that I have sworn to send him right to the sleep lab for tests. His snoring has gotten so bad that I have cried at night out of pure frustration, or we spend most nights playing musical beds. So, get it together hubby. You don't fool me for a second.

Up Close and Personal

Why not run?

Does the cost of Halloween costumes got you spooked?

Before running out the door to purchase your kid's Halloween costume, run right back inside and get on your computer. For months, Nolan said he wanted to be Clifford the Big Red Dog. I had visions of making his costume - a tall red dog made out of chicken wire and felt. He had to be big, right? I envisioned shaping chicken wire into a dog and extending it into the sky, to make him tall. Later, I would attach red fabric or felt around it. I wasn't sure how I would attach it. My creativity is prematurely stunted when it comes to sewing. My mom and sister Sarah got that gene. In the past I assigned them the task, but since my extended family has grown I can't expect them to make costumes for four children. Lucky for us all, my attempt to make him a hand-made costume failed when my husband found a costume on Ebay for $3. I was off the hook!

It arrived in the mail yesterday. It is perfect. He doesn't stand up tall in the sky, but his smile was wide and my wallet is full.

Exercise at 7 a.m.

At 7 a.m. this morning my three-year-old son asked me to dance. "Right now?" I replied. "I havn't had my coffee." A jolt of caffeine does wonders for a sleepy mom who is up throughout the night with a teething 8-month-old. I wanted to say, "Do we have to?" But how often does a handsome young man take your hand, look deeply into your eyes as if you are the most beautiful creature in the world and, despite your spicy morning breath, say, "lets dance." And, so I did. I knelt down, picked him up, twirled him in circles and danced. I couldn't think of a better way to start my day. Now, where is my coffee?

Let's Get Physical

I am not going to break out in Olivia Newton John's song from the past, "Let's Get Physical." I am just curious as to what you did today to get physical. Every move counts, you know. Here is what I did:

I chased my dog down the street, in bare feet and in the rain
I chased my son up and down the stairs, bribing him to sit on the potty
I carried my 8-month-old daughter and my 3-year-old son out of the drug store
I tried to teach my son how to ride a bike
I took my dog and my two kids on a jog / walk
I ran out of gas and convinced two guys to push me into a gas station

So, what did you do?

What was the sweetest thing your child has ever said?

My 3-year-old son has a sweet tooth. He loves juice, candy and cookies; he even likes his fluoride vitamin drops. But, the sweetest thing are the words that come rolling out of his mouth. Some days they aren't so sweet. Some days they are darn right sour - he is in the terrible 3's. But, just the other day, he said something that brought tears to my eyes. Those words are forever embossed in my brain. He said, while we are on a Budget rent-a-car shuttle bus, "Mom, you are my best friend." In the middle of the shuttle bus, he looked up at me, scooted his tush as close to mine as possible and hugged me around the waist. My little boy's voice, sweet and soft, is music to my ears; and, satisfied my sweet tooth for the day.

Don't Do This At Home

True - All mom's are busy. True - We spend most days cleaning, working, feeding kids, cleaning, again and then it is time for bed. True - We put everyone first. False - There is no pamper time, or "me" time left in the day for mom.

Whatever you do make the time to get your eyebrows waxed, professionally. Do not, under any circumstances, try to do it yourself. If you mess it up, and you will, you will look funny. It could take months for them to regrow. Believe me. I have gone pluck crazy before and the results were devastating. With half an eyebrow people looked at me wondering what was different. I tried to pencil it in, but that made it worse. On another occasion, I tried to trim the length. I brushed my eyebrows up, and with my husband's beard scissors cut away. Despite my best effort, I cut too much and ended up with stubble above my eyes. Again, people looked at me wondering why I looked so weird. Finally, my sister spoke up and said, "Did you give your eyebrows a haircut?"

Nolan's First Day of Preschool

I cannot believe my baby started preschool today. He is 3-years-old and I don't know where the time has gone. Suddenly, with a blink of an eye, he is out of the crib; eating solids; walking and talking; pooping in the potty, well almost; and now, today, is his first day of school. He will never have a first day of school, again. This day, a day to be talked about forever, is now just a baby book memory. I took pictures of him outside his classroom, dressed in his best outfit. I was excited for his big day. The excitement drained after my husband asked me if I was going to cry. "Of course not. He will be fine," I said. I will be fine, too, I thought. Nolan has been attending "Kids in Motion," (an on-site child care program at The Chelsea Wellness Center, kids are allowed to attend 2-hours a day for 7 days a week, while a parent is exercising. Parents' must remain on the premises, though) at my gym since he was 6-months-old.

So we trekked up to school. Nolan held one hand while my daughter occupied my other. We entered the classroom to find Nolan's smiley teacher. I walked Nolan around the room; we found his name tag, which he wore around his neck; located his cubby hole and then his coat hook. Then, we introduced ourselves to some of his classmates; one child was trying so hard not to cry after his mom left. His eyes filled with tears and he was sucking in his wails like a brave little soldier. Finally, it was my turn to leave. I bent down, gave Nolan a kiss and offered my motherly advice to do as his teacher instructs. As I turned to leave Nolan followed me. He quickly removed his name tag and said, "I am coming with you, Mom." I looked down at him and explained that I would be back in a few hours. He said, again, "No, Mom. I am coming with you. I don't want to stay." I redirected him back to the Playdoh station and said I would sit with him for a little while. So, we both sat down in kiddie chairs; my butt poured over the edge of the chair and Nolan scooted his seat as close to mine as possible. With Addison on my lap and Nolan glued to my side, I was trapped in. I was the only parent in preschool, now. Moments later I decided to make my exit, again. I kissed Nolan goodbye and explained that we would be back later. Like a tight-pressured Jack-n-the box he jumped from his seat, ripped the name tag from his neck and said , "I'm coming with you." His eyes burned into mine and tears swelled in his eyes, "Dont go, Mom," he said as he hugged my legs, tight. "No No", his nickname, "Mommy and Addison have to go. This is your class and we will be back soon." I replied. "No, Mom I want to come with you. No, Mom don't leave me." His lips curled under and his pleading face made my chest tighten. Now, I was the little soldier sucking it all in. Again, though, as brave as I was I redirected him back to the water station, a tub filled with bubbles and foam for kids to play in, and when he was preoccupied I scooted out the back door.

I scurried to my car. I placed Addison in her car seat. I put my sunglasses on, and then I wept the entire way home.

Getting Back to the Basics

Have you seen the new Suave shampoo commercial on television? The one with the woman, she looks to be in her early 30s, who has let herself go after having two children.

The commercial starts out when a young, beautiful woman, who is dressed to the nine’s, gets engaged. In 45-seconds you see her transformation - from a single, hip woman to a glamorous bride to a frumpy mom of two-children. In the end, thanks to Suave, she gracefully returns to her sleek, fashionable self, despite her third pregnancy. If only shampoo really worked miracles.

As a stay-at-home mother of two children, I can relate to the frumpiness. My two monkeys swing from each of my arms and climb up and down my torso for hugs, comfort, fun or maybe they just want to drive me crazy. This one time, while at a birthday party, I was holding my, then 11-month-old, son Nolan in one hand and holding a beverage in the other hand while chit-chatting with my husband's best friend, Flounder. His real name is Jeff but inherited the nickname Flounder, or Flo, in college from the movie "Animal House." Anyways, my son kept wanting to get closer to my face, then closer and even closer. He began climbing up my body, using his feet to propel himself upward. As he trekked up, he pushed my pants down. I suddenly found myself with my underpants down at my feet while standing face-to-face with Flo. All Flo could do was panic. Repeatedly, he kept saying, "I don't know where to look." Finally, I threw my beverage at him and pulled my pants up. I don't know what is worse - having a complete stranger witness your most vulnerable moment or a best friend, who despite all your faults, loves you anyways. So the most important point to this tangent is to never wear pants with an elastic waste band, again, and beware of swinging monkeys .

Anyways, what were we talking about? Oh, yeah, about how being a mom somehow turns you into a frump. Actually, that is not true. The Suave woman isn't frumpy. She just doesn't leave enough time to get ready, probably because she spends every spare minute caring for her kids. Chances are, if she does get ready she will be late to wherever she is going.

I can relate to her. In fact, I am her. I spend my time getting my kids dressed in their perfect outfits, and brushing their hair to the perfect style. As soon as they are perfectly manicured we are out the door. Quickly, I throw on the jeans from last night, spray myself down with perfume and tie may hair back in a pony tail. If I don‘t leave at that very moment, I am afraid the cycle of sleep, eat, crap, play would resume. With all that said, I don’t give myself time to get ready.

The funny thing is I went out the other night, to meet up with some girlfriends, so I decided to take a shower and wash my hair. Upon my husband’s arrival home from work, to watch the kids so I could go out, he said, “Why don’t you get dressed up like that for me?” His comment made me think. Maybe I should start using Suave. It is what I used in college, it is all I could afford at only 99-cents a bottle, when I met my husband; years later we were married. Maybe it is time to get back to the basics.

Getting back to the basics is what this blog is all about. Here, you will read about the basics of motherhood: child rearing, toys, recipes, and marriage. There’s nothing fancy about it. It’s all natural, all organic and all from the heart. In the end, you may be surprised to find that the basics in life can be just plain fabulous.

From Via Spiga's to Nike's

I was suddenly transformed. My preoccupation with climbing the corporate ladder was interrupted. Wiping noses and bottoms, playing peek-a-boo and singing “The Itsty Bitsy Spider” has me single-heartedly off-track.

The birth of my, now 3-year-old son, Nolan, changed my life in unexpected ways. At times, while holding him, I’ll catch a glance of myself in a mirror and think, “Wow, that’s me and my son. How did that happen?”

It seems like yesterday I learned that I was pregnant, dreaming about the little person inside me; wondering who he was; who he would become; if he would look like me or laugh like me. I was so eager to meet him that I carried his ultrasound picture everywhere I went, introducing him to the world as if I patented a new product.

I remember eating breakfast one morning, prior to Nolan’s birth, and feeling struck. Struck for the first time in my life with a true purpose. My purpose, the one I sought for so long, finally had been revealed. I suddenly longed for my child. I was ready for my new challenge: My new title; my new career; and, my new fortune.

At 39 weeks into my pregnancy, I began doing everything to initiate labor. Despite my lazy bladder, I increased my exercise regime by walking my pre-pregnancy, three-mile loop around my neighborhood, not even Kegels could prevent the inevitable. Since all I ended up with were wet pants, I tried other alternatives: I cooked.

Well, that didn’t work. The aroma of curry, alone, left me with heartburn and indigestion so I decided to initiate my last option: Sex. My husband, my belly and I, well, you know where I am going with this. Old wives tales are fun to chat about, but my question is: Did anyone else ever think these were true?

Finally, at 41-weeks, he was born. Birth – life’s most miraculous moment. The true meaning of my life hadn’t been revealed until then.

I can’t remember what occupied my days before him. When I was pregnant everyone said, “Your life will never be the same again.” I always knew my life would undergo a massive makeover. I just didn’t know how much my life would change.

Some of life’s changes seemed obvious: Scaling back on the expensive and frequent dinners out; reducing my work load would result in less money; and, loving my child a lot.

Prior to conceiving Nolan, I often wondered why people had three or four children. I wanted one or two, but never imagined having more. More than two children seemed silly, both from a time and financial standpoint.

I enjoyed earning that big bonus check after working long hours at my job. I enjoyed wearing designer clothes to exclusive restaurants, immersing myself in intellectual conversation over fine wines. I enjoyed shopping at Banana Republic and owning several pairs of Via Spiga shoes. It was hard imagining my life free of expense accounts and dinner reservations.

I imagined that expense accounts would become budgets; that dinner reservations would be seldom; and lunch dates with people half my size. I did, however, still see myself strolling through the shopping mall with baby in one arm and my Kate Spade in the other. I imagined a spotless house and a gourmet meal being served upon my husband’s arrival home from work. If we can’t go to P.F. Chang’s, I’ll bring it here.

As soon as my son was born, it was confirmed. I love him. It’s hard not to sit and stare at him counting each finger and each toe twice, talking baby talk all day long. I study his face. He studies mine. Our eyes connect. They fix. Not even the sting on an unblinked eye could end the moment. I never imagined this transformation!

Prior to my son, my job was my hot pursuit. My need for being needed in conference calls or meetings devoured me. Now, being needed by my son has put things into perspective. I finally understand the meaning of my life.

My passions are coming to life in ways I never expected. Never again do I want sleepless nights caused by work pressures, nor do I want my creativity stunted by worldly exhaustions. I want the best of me to be portrayed to my child.

Portraying the best is work and hasn’t come sacrifice-free. Resigning from my full-time job to pursue part-time opportunities, opportunities that are sporadic, isn’t easy. Switching gears, to allow more time at home has been difficult.

You would assume that with more than a decade of career-building experiences, I would easily transition into a productive stay-at-home mom brewing with creative ways to occupy my son, while also reinventing myself to provide my family the dual income we have grown accustomed to.

My new opportunities haven’t brought much fortune or fame, but the sound of my son’s “da da da,” throughout the day, makes all the sacrifices worth it. So I was right to assume that are frequent dinners out would be few. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we dined- out. Oops, I forgot we had dinner at Bob’s Big Boy earlier this month. It’s been over a decade since I dined at that restaurant.

Budgets are now essential, but I am still able to shop at Banana Republic – the outlet, and I do own a Kate Spade – a fake one that I bought at a purse party.

In addition, it was silly to predict a spotless home, one that was dust-bunny free and stamped with the approval of Martha Stewart. Flailing into motherhood has made me realize how cumbersome simple tasks can be when you are distracted by your jovial creation every moment of the day. Housecleaning has become a challenging new sport. The days of scrubbing grout is over; a wet swifter will have to do.

Sorry again, Martha, my husband does not arrive home to a piping hot meal on the dinner table every night, and I do cook. Instead he is greeted by Nolan, who now screams “Daddy’s home, yeah!” and our second child, Addison, who sits on her throne in the kitchen, throwing bits of food to our dog, Cooper. Usually, the Shake-N - Bake pork chops are still cooking in the oven.

And, lastly, I am sad to admit our trips to the shopping mall have been few, usually limited to J.C. Penny’s for quarterly photo shoots, even Kate Spade can’t tag along. I sure miss that girl.

After packing diapers, wipes, bottles, pacifiers, snacks, a change of clothes for the frequent blow-out, the stroller, umbrella, coat, hat and mittens that must accompany us on every excursion, there is simply no room for my old pal.

After months of learning my new trade, I am determined to master my hot, new career. Nolan, and now Addison, provides a salary of less than minimum wage, but a satisfaction rate of 100-percent. Watching them develop and grow is more rewarding than I ever imagined. The excitement I experience at each milestone keeps their baby book filled with freeze-frame moments: From the first smile, not the one mistaken for gas; the first giggle, still the sweetest sound I have ever heard; the first time they crawled or walked; or the first time they blew spit bubbles while eating sweet potatoes, spraying orange mush on my new sweater, with products like Shout wipes moms can raise children in style, at least.

Their firsts” came and went so quickly. I want to stop time and appreciate each moment. In no time at all, my son outgrew his 0-to 3-months-old clothes. I packed away many onesies and sleepers with the tags still attached. Some of the garments I couldn’t resist purchasing, had never been worn. The blue chenille nightie, with the teddy bear feet was my favorite. Why didn’t he wear it? What occasion was I waiting for? I decided right then and there that my second child would dress to the nines – even on lazy days where all we do is lounge on the sofa or grocery shop.

Within what seemed like just days, my son, and now my daughter, outgrew their 3- to 6- months-old clothes. “Slow down,” I screamed, “you’re growing up too fast.”

Maybe we should have a third baby. I want more for us to love. The best gifts my parents gave me were my siblings. “What’s happening to me? This doesn’t sound like me.”

The answer is simple: Motherhood has happened and my life will never be the same. Besides Nike’s are much more comfortable than Via Spigas.