Game of Your Life review - Family Movie Night

We've finally reached a wonderful age in our house. The age where both girls can sit through a full length feature movie without getting up to wander away, bored, halfway through. Sure they're not exactly ready for Steel Magnolias, but that's fine with me, because, little known secret, I'm a sucker for kid and young adult movies.

That's right, I'll totally sit up late at night watching teeny-bopper movies by myself. In fact, I can't wait for the girls to be old enough to watch them with me. In the meantime we enjoy true kids' movies, which is just fine by me.

NBC has launched a great program that totally fits into my vision of spending at least one evening a week enjoying a movie with the kids. Family Movie Night, aptly named, features family friendly movies broadcasted for free on network TV.

This Friday's movie, Game of Your Life, is a great pick, and I'm not just saying that because Lea Thompson is in it. (I've had a soft spot for her since Space Camp. Yes, I'm a geek.) The movie features Zack, computer game designer, who is headed to a prestigious computer game college program.

The movie covers family issues - Zach is desperate to help his dad save their family home, friendship issues - Zach and his team are competing in a tough contest and he's dropping the ball, going away to college, balancing school work and personal issues, as well as a host of other topics that are sure to open the door for a great post-movie family discussion. As an added bonus it paints college as a really fun place where true passions can be followed!

The plot was entertaining, the conflict believable, and while the dialogue wasn't always as well written as it could have been, the movie definitely passes muster for an in-home evening of entertainment.

Catch the movie this Friday, December 2nd on NBC at 8pm ET/7pm CT and chat with other viewers on the official Family Movie Night Facebook page!




Please note: I wrote this review while participating in a campaign by Mom Central Consulting on behalf of P&G. I have been compensated for my time, but the opinions and thoughts contained in this post are mine and mine alone.

Teaching kids the value of a dollar

We live in a weird place where money doesn't go nearly as far as it does in the rest of the country.

Where else (other than NY) does half-a-million dollars count as the down-payment to a tiny house rather than the entire price of a large one? Where else do people buy luxury cars to park in front of those tiny homes because they can afford the vehicle, but not a nicer home?

At the same time, we live in a place where all to many people have more money than they know what to do with. And with all the IPOs for local companies set to happen in the next year, that's going to get worse before it gets better.

The upshoot of it all is that my girls are being raised around kids who have a lot. And faced with that, it's so hard to help them understand the value of money and to help them appreciate what they have.

For the longest time I didn't worry about it beyond helping them take stock of what we have when the "gimmes" would strike. But now that they're getting older and are starting to be able to understand that things don't just magically appear in our home, I'm wondering how to best help them grasp the value of money and how to save for the things we really want or need.

Let's be honest though, I'm starting at a disadvantage because I might well be the worst money manager in town. (I can just picture my husband nodding as he reads this.) I grew up essentially believing that money would be there when I needed it, and if it wasn't there right away, it would eventually turn up. (The most memorable instance of this was the first Tax Rebate issued by the Bush administration. That check landed in my mailbox, utterly unexpectedly since at the time I never read the paper, the day I desperately needed rent money. M nearly flipped his lid. Money management lesson lost. I still find the memory amusing.) 

I've learned, largely thanks to my husband, how to budget, how to save, how to resist impulse buys. It hasn't been easy, but I've learned. And now I need to pass that knowledge on to my kids.

- We talk about what things are more expensive than others when we're at the store.
- We talk about how we have to chose between two things we want.
- We talk about putting bigger ticket items on our Christmas or Birthday List.
- We talk in code. A movie is worth four squinkies. An ice cream is three. A trip to Chicago to see the cousins is a bunch of American Girl dolls. Anything to get them to see how it all adds up.
- I verbalize my choices while shopping, walking them both through my decision process so they can see that the purchases aren't random, but calculated.

C has money in her piggy bank that she's saving up to buy herself a fossil that she saw in a rock store. There was no good reason for me to get it for her, so I suggested that she see how much was in her piggy bank. Now when she begs for something I can ask her if she wants it more than the fossil. So far, she hasn't wanted anything more than that.

It's an ongoing process, one that I'm actually enjoying. It's fun to watch them start to understand, fun to be there as they start to really appreciate what they have. Who knows, maybe I'll learn something in the process too!


This post was inspired and sponsored by Kidworth, a new site designed to teach kids financial goal setting. It's the perfect season to set up Kidworth accounts for the kids in your life! Family and friends can help you give them the gift of financial responsibility. Parents set up an account, and kids enter their goals. Whether they are saving up for guitar lessons, or a donation to the local animal shelter, Kidworth can help them achieve their dreams this holiday season, meaning you won't be as overrun with "stuff."

Holiday Comforts

This post is sponsored by Tempur-Pedic, the brand millions of owners trust to deliver their best night’s sleep every night. Enjoy our Buy 2, get 1 free pillow offer now and give the gift of custom comfort to someone you love.

When I converted to Judaism the panel of rabbis who convened to see if I was "ready" asked me to do two things. First, I had to promise to raise my children in the Jewish faith. Second, I had to give up Christmas.

The first item was a no brainer, I'd already planned on that. As for the second, if I'd been able to say yes with my fingers crossed behind my back I would have. Instead I opted for explaining to them why Christmas was non-negotiable.

I must have been convincing because they let me into the tribe without making me give up my most important family tradition.

I wasn't kidding either. When the turkey dinner draws to a close I do a little inside dance because the countdown to Christmas is officially on.

Little white lights, fir trees, wrapped presents, and a whole week with my family, thinking, talking, and eating amazing food.

I love everything about Christmas. I love the gift buying, hunting down the ideal present for people I love. I love the smells and the joy that permeates the air. I even love the music. (No, really. I have a Pandora Christmas station. I kid you not.)

And why do I love Christmas so much?

Easy, all that joy, all that cheer, all those presents, tinsel, lights, and ribbon, they all lead down to the morning when we all gather together, my husband, my sisters, my brother-in-law, my mom, and all the kids, everyone on their coziest jammies, around the glittery tree, with hot tea in hand, and let the joy and excitement wash over us.

I don't care what the year has in store for us. I just know that when that morning rolls around I'll be warm and happy inside, surrounded by the people I love most making their happiest noise.

It doesn't get more comforting than that.

Comfort is the perfect gift for everyone on your holiday gift list, so be sure to take advantage of Tempur-Pedic's Buy 2, get 1 free pillow offer! I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective

The Education Question

First there was preschool. Then there was preschool again. And when we figured that out we had to start thinking about Kindergarten.

And even then it wasn't over.

Because the school we found, that we adore, is 40 minutes away from our house.

On most days the commute is fine, long, but fine. Round trip, home, to school, to daycare, and back takes an hour and a half, but we deal. On other days, the commute is painful.

On days like the one last week, when I get called at 5pm because C has just fallen off the monkey bars, the 40 minute drive feels downright absurd. (For the record, I did the drive in 30 minutes. Don't tell.)

C was fine in the end, but the issue brought the distance issue into debate again.

Little L is supposed to start school with her sister in the fall meaning, that, if we stay in the house we currently own, M will live 45 minutes away from work, the girls will live 40 minutes away from school, and I'll be bouncing around working from home and from whatever coffee shop I end up in that day. I hate being that far from them all day, but at the same time, I hate being in coffee shops for hours on end.

The ideal situation would involve moving closer to both work and school, but the areas further north are exponentially more expensive than the place we currently live. We'd be able to afford either a house up there or the school... but not both.

C is in a school founded on the Education for Life principles. Their goal is to teach the kids everything they need to know academically while also teaching them how to be self reliant and how to interact well with others.

When C and Little L are grown I won't care in the least how many AP classes they've taken, what classes they've aced. I will however want them to be self confident girls who aren't afraid to think outside the box and follow their dreams.

I worry that if we send them to schools that place more importance on test scores than on emotional growth, that they'll grow into girls who feel pressure to conform.

I worry that if we stay put and send them to the school we love that we'll go nuts with all the driving we have to do.

Like every time we've had to face the school issue I wish I had a magic wand I could wave to make a perfect solution appear.

I'm grateful for... my husband

In the summer of '99, days after my 23rd birthday I met a guy at a party. He was supposed to be my rebound one-night-stand. My way of bouncing back after two long term relationships with two very different and yet equally-wrong-for-me guys.

This guy was sweet. He had huge blue eyes and a gentle smile. And as we danced together that night I felt so at home in his arms that I thought I might be crazy.

Twelve years later I still feel at home in those arms, but it doesn't feel so crazy any more.

It was one of those random events, two people who weren't really supposed to be in the same spot met and by miracle were each at a place in their lives where they both were open to what was there.

I'm grateful each and every day that I let myself stay open to what we stumbled on. I'm grateful each and every day that he felt the same way.

On that day I met a man who would come to love me for exactly who I am.

A man who lets me be myself.

A man who has my back at all times, who believes in me wholeheartedly, and who wants me to succeed in all my harebrained schemes.

We are such different people who come from such different backgrounds. I come from a family of extroverts, he comes from a family of introverts. He grew up Jewish, I grew up essentially without religion. I grew up in France, he grew up in California.

I'm a loudmouthed, boisterous reader and writer, he's a quiet, thoughtful, quirky musician.

Logic states that, on that warm Bostonian night, he should have taken one look at me and glossed right over me to any of the other girls hanging out at that party. Instead, he did a double-take, stopped walking, and came to chat with me.

I'll never stop being grateful for that.

That's it, the fifth and last post in my Week of Thanksgiving hosted by LilKidThings. I know a week usually has 7 days, but I'm taking the weekend off from the Internet to enjoy all these things I'm so grateful for. If you need more gratitude and warm fuzzies click the image below to see what everyone else is grateful for!

I'm grateful for... Gratitude

It would be almost too easy this year to wallow in the fear, the sadness, and the "what ifs" that keep assailing us at every turn.

Frankly I think I was headed there recently. I couldn't blog without wanting to focus on the stuff troubling me. I couldn't have lunch with a friend without wanting to recount the worries. I felt all consumed by it and it was making me miserable.

Then this little Week of Thanksgiving prompt rolled around and I jumped at it.

Because deep in my heart I know for a fact that happy people don't have the best of everything, they just make the best of everything. Happiness doesn't find you, you have to find it.

And happiness is all around me.

Today I feel lighter. I've spent the last few days looking around me, reminding myself of all the things I'm grateful for, wondering which to write about. I've even gotten the kids into the habit of mentioning the things they are grateful for.

I'm grateful for gratitude and the exercise that has shown me that it isn't all bad and that there's a much better way to spend my days than wallowing.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Among all these other things I'm grateful to all of you who come here daily to read my words and offer silent or not so silent support. I couldn't get through this year without all of you.
This is the fourth post in my Week of Thanksgiving hosted by LilKidThings. Join me all week as I feature the things that fills me with gratitude. Click the image below to see what everyone else is grateful for!

I'm grateful for... my daughters

Seven years ago today my husband and I started the long drive to Lake Tahoe sometime mid morning, him driving, me sitting next to him clutching my phone in both hands.

I was waiting for the lab to call with my baby's test results, the ones that would clear up the murky scary results we'd gotten the week before at the screening. I was almost 4 month's pregnant and anxious to know if this child, this first baby of ours, would be perfectly average or if we'd need to make some serious decisions over the festive weekend.

I'd been told that there was just a slim chance that the results would be ready by the end of the day, but I clung to that hope like a lifeline.

I wanted to revel in the family's joy over my growing belly. I wanted to relax and just appreciate being pregnant.

The road twisted and turned, and, as we started the climb into the mountain, the sun started to set, and the clock ticked past 5pm I had to accept the fact that I wouldn't know that day. Wouldn't in fact know until four days later.

I tucked my worry into a corner of my brain and resolutely focused on enjoying a weekend in the snow.

The next morning I woke up and the belly that I'd relatively easily been able to hide up until that moment had popped out. Overnight I'd gone from being able to keep my potentially "different" child a secret from the world to being very visibly pregnant.

Come what may, I would no longer be able to keep my condition a secret from my coworkers.

At 7am on the Monday after Thanksgiving, the genetic counselor called with the long awaited results. The baby was fine. She was more than fine, in fact, she was genetically perfect. Today she's a smart, serious, loving 6 year-old. And every Wednesday before Thanksgiving I remember that drive and the intense love and hope I felt for the little blob bobbing around inside me as we traveled.

Two years later, same weekend, same destination, this time as we prepared for the trip home, I was struck by an intense craving for a banana slathered in peanut butter, something I hadn't desired since I'd been pregnant with C. In that instant I knew, without a shred of doubt, that there was another little one setting up residence in what had once been the womb that kept her sister safe for 9 months.

As we head into Thanksgiving weekend, no travels planned this year, I can't help but think about how, in my heart, this holiday is intrinsically linked to my daughters. I'm grateful for these two girls, their smiles, their jokes, even their tantrums and bickering.

They are both vibrantly alive and well and color my days with laughter and love.

As we head into our more chaos and uncertainty, I'm once again filled with warmth when I think that, no matter what, the four of us will face it together. The love we have for each other gives me the strength to face it all. This is the third post in my Week of Thanksgiving hosted by LilKidThings. Join me all week as I feature the things that fills me with gratitude. Click the image below to see what everyone else is grateful for!

I'm grateful for... laughter

This year I've laughed...

through tears.
through kisses.
through sadness.
through solemn moments.

at doctor's appointments.
at the ER.
at the hospital.
at school.
at Starbucks.

in Zumba class.
in the car.
in bed.
in the kitchen.
in the kids' room.

I'm the family clown. I can see a reason for humor in pretty much any situation. I know when to deliver the perfect one-liner to lighten up a grim situation. I'm not just doing it for the kicks. I'm not doing it just for the attention. I do it because when I hear laughter, I know that all hope isn't lost.

As long as we're still laughing, we can get through anything.

I'm grateful for the laughter.

**********
It's day 2 in the Week of Thanksgiving. Pop back tomorrow to see what else I'm thankful for during this rather challenging year. Click the image below to see posts by other bloggers and to join in on the wave of gratitude.

I'm grateful for... books

I've always been a reader. It's just a part of who I am. There are cases of books piled high in the garage, piles of books falling over each other in the house, and in our room, I'm creating imaginary bookshelves because I've run out of real shelf space.

I've always loved books for the escape they offered. The chance to sit in a comfy chair, crack open a cover, and travel anywhere in time or in space. Sometimes real life is just too overwhelming and it's soothing to be able to run away.

Then again, sometimes life is so overwhelming that even books aren't comforting. Who needs another person's problems -- even a fictional person -- when you've got way too much on your own plate.

When life is like that I usually dive into comic anthologies. Stone Soup, Fox Trot, Baby Blues, Rose is Rose, For Better or Worse, Zits. I own a lot. I'm heartbroken that they're publishing fewer and fewer. When my head is spinning in a million directions and I can barely form a coherent thought, jumping into a book where story bits are introduced and resolved in three or four frames? It's just about what I can handle.

Sadly, I've been in that state so often this year that all my anthologies are starting to fall apart and I know them all so well that they've ceased to work their magic. Luckily, I've discovered something that works just as well.

It's so corny, I'm almost ashamed to admit how addicted I've become. Heck, I'm almost ashamed to say that this is actually what I'm grateful for this week.

My new literary crack? Cozies.

I know. You don't even know what that is. Its the newish genre that contains easy armchair mysteries. The protagonist is usually a girl who owns her own business -- cupcake store, flower store, donut shop, catering business -- somewhere in the first chapter she happens upon a murder, and then, with the help of her BFF or the hot guy next door, much to the chagrin of the local police force, she solves the murder after almost getting killed herself about 20 pages from the end.

I. Am. Obsessed.

I think the utter predictability of the plot line, the lack of surprise about when she's going to run into trouble, the absolute certainty that at the perfect moment the hero is going to rush in and save the day, it's all so incredibly soothing after a year of non-stop bad surprises being lobbed at our heads.

I am utterly grateful to the hardworking authors of these books who are pressured to put out at least a book a year. I'm grateful to Amazon for feeding my obsession through my Kindle app. And I'm grateful to my husband for pretending to not notice how often the name of the current book I'm reading changes.

Sometimes, you just need to escape. Sometimes it's wonderful when you can escape to somewhere incredibly predictable and comforting.

************
In two weeks this family is diving into more chaos and uncertainty. In the face of it all I felt an overwhelming need to focus on the things that fill me with joy and gratitude, so it was with glee that I discovered that a friend is sponsoring A Week of Thanksgiving. Join me all week as I feature something (probably obscure) that fills me with gratitude.





(Yes, those are affiliate links above. Yes, if you click on them and then later buy something from Amazon I'll get a penny or two. Thank you. It'll help fund my obsession.)

Is it Friday yet?

This morning I found myself being grateful that we were only one day away from the weekend. Such a knee jerk reaction of the gainfully employed. But I work for myself now. If I don't want to work... I don't have to. 

Except I do.

I mean, except I want to. Or at least I should.

Right?

I have these goals and dreams and I need to do something about them. I want to do something about them. I need to send out emails. I need to write proposals. I need to network and put myself out there.

I feel like I've spent the last two weeks bumbling along, vague goals in mind, puttering around.

Then finally, on Tuesday, I woke up, filled with focus and direction. I'd been waiting to feel this way for weeks now. I knew exactly what I was going to do during the day, what I was going to accomplish.

It was a... good day. A good day that was supposed to end with a networking event where I was going to shine.

I left Starbucks with enough time to rush home to gussy up before heading back north to pick up Little L from daycare. The plan was that M would collect C and we'd meet halfway for dinner. He'd take them home while I went on to my event.

But, as we all know, the best laid plans always go awry.

First, M got waylaid at the office.

I was undaunted. I could work with that. Grab both kids, feed them, then hand them off when he could get there. I'd be an hour late. Tops.

And then.

The call.

Just as I was pulling into the driveway at home, 30 minutes from school.

C had fallen off the monkey-bars and was refusing to stand. Could I please come get her early?

A million things ran through my head as I grabbed a decent pair of shoes, a jacket, and a belt before jumping back into the car and driving like a maniac to her school.

When I got there she was still lying on her back, pale as a sheet, clearly scared out of her mind. It took me seconds to decide that we were going to the ER.

The whole plan was derailed.

A friend collected Little L from daycare. I took C to the ER.

And three hours later, on the way home, clean bill of health from the doctors in hand, I had to fight off the urge to just fall asleep right then and there.

That brief burst of mojo that appeared on Tuesday was gone just as quickly as it had come. I'm doing my level best to get it back, but it's elusive; scared by the thought that if it does comes back, something else will just come along to derail it again.

It's been that kind of year. 

There's one day left to this week. One last day to salvage the wreck and get something tangible done.

I'll find a way to do it, mojo or no. I started this morning by making a to do list. With a little luck I'll get through it before the end of Friday. It'll take some effort, but I need to do it.

I need to keep moving forward.

Twinkle in my eye

Little L is 4. Very, very 4. Which is to say that she has a hard time conceiving of a world in which she doesn't exist. This leads to some interesting questions at times such as:

 "Mommy, where was I when you were a little girl?"

For the first time ever my standard "in my heart" answer just didn't cut it. Neither did, "waiting in Heaven to be born" or "honey, you just didn't exist yet."

She dug in her heels and asked again.

"But where was I?"

So, I gave one of those flippant mommy-hasn't-had-her-coffee-and-isn't-thinking-things-through-well-yet answer.

"Oh, baby, you were just a twinkle in my eye."

Safe enough you might think, right?

Yeah, well, two seconds later the girls were busy staring into each other's eyes, counting the twinkles.

"You're going to have four babies! I can see them!" C squealed to Little L, and from that moment on the myth was born.

Part of me loves this game. It's so sweet and innocent. But part of me wonders if she'll grow up with this hard and fast belief that she's meant to have four kids, which might in turn lead to some eventual disappointment. Though, it's possible, of course, that I'm a tad sensitive and overreacting in light of my own missing baby issues these days.

Who can tell?

Photo respectfully borrowed from Lisa Leonard.

Pleasant Denial

I always forget. I mean, it's easy to do so. When I sit at my computer and typetytype into this blog editor, it's not hard to imagine my virtual friends clicking over and reading the finished post. Imagining my "real" friends doing the same is apparently much harder.

It must be, because I always forget.

And then I write posts like this one, or this one, and minutes later my phone starts to vibrate.

For a panicked moment I stare at the phone's display and remember. I remember that people I see daily read my blog, people who care for my children, friends, family members, people I only run into once in a blue moon at Starbucks. I think back to what I wrote and published without a second thought. And I cringe.

It's like realizing that you went outside naked, but worse.

When you're out and about and people say "Hi! How are you?" the correct answer is always "I'm fine." When you've just splashed your soul onto people's computer screens you can't really say that and have them believe you. It makes for an awkward moment or two until you shrug and say "Well, you know..." and then change the conversation.

I always forget. It really is easy. Most people don't mention that they read my blog, so when the phone does ring, when the texts flood my inbox, when my friends reach out and ask, this time for real, not as a socially acceptable nicety, how I'm doing, it's always a shock to realize just how many of them do read it. 

For a second I feel like running in the other direction. So many people looking right into my heart and my soul. So many people privy to my innermost thoughts and fears. And then I feel overwhelmed with gratitude.

I'm grateful to have friends who read my words.

I'm grateful to have friends who know when to sit back and read silently, no judgment, no comment.

And more than anything, I'm grateful to have friends who speak up when it matters, who reach out when I need it to offer hugs and words of support.

I love my friends. Thank you for being here for me.

Shopping Buddy

There was a time when I actually enjoyed shopping. No, really. Shopping meant an afternoon out with a buddy, maybe coffee, definitely laughter.

Nowadays shopping is just stressful. First nothing fits right. Second, either the kids are with me and bugging me to hurry up or they're not there and I'm anxious about time, keeping an eye on the clock so I can make sure they don't overstay their welcome wherever they might be.

So, to keep the stress to a minimum I try to do most of my shopping online, which is fine for the most part, but can get a little lonely. The thing I miss the most is the shopping buddy who will be brutally honest about how something looks or will be quick to quip that she knows I can get that same thing cheaper somewhere else.

Fine, short of sharing links with friends through Skype or IM I'm not going to recreate that shopping camaraderie on my couch, but with the help of Digital Folio I can at least get the tips on prices that I used to rely on friends to provide.

Digital Folio is a free comparison-shopping app that finds and tracks real-time price savings on a variety of categories (The app is growing daily and adding categories as they go!) It'll work with you at home on your computer or on the go on your smart phone. 

So, head out into the Christmas shopping frenzy knowing that, no matter where or how you chose to shop, you'll have someone working in the background, making sure you get the best prices all season long.

Intrigued? Check out their website digitalfolio.com and attend the #DigitalFolio Twitter party
with Resourceful Mommy Tuesday, November 8, 8-9pm EST. Follow @ResourcefulMom and @DigitalFolio and participate in the party to be eligible to win one of six (6) $25 Target gift cards or the one (1) Grand Prize $100 Target gift card!

In the meantime, download Digital Folio and become a registered user to be entered to win a $200 Target gift card. Prize awarded by Digital Folio Wednesday, November 15th. 

So, come on, who's helping you with your Christmas list this holiday season?


Please note, this post was sponsored by Digital Folio and Global Influence. I was compensated for writing it, but the story is all mine. 

For the love of Max

"It's a boy."

The news came through on Facebook - telegraph of our generation - and my heart plummeted.

As gloom settled over me I honestly thought that it was sadness for her that brought me down. My friend had so desperately hoped for a girl, I was heartbroken for her. A boy. Her third.

And then, later, after receiving a gushing text, overflowing with love for her new baby boy, and noticing that my gloom only deepened, I realized that my sadness was for me, not her.

A boy. A third baby boy. And here I was filled with just empty longing for my own third child, for the boy I carry in my heart.

It's a complicated issue my longing. I've wanted a third child from the moment they placed my second daughter in my arms. I couldn't fathom that this could be the last time I would ever experience that first meeting with a baby who had grown in my womb. When she latched on for the first time, again I was struck with the agonizing dueling emotion of the rush of love for this little one and the heartbreaking agony of knowing there might never be another baby with which to share this bond.

I lived my baby's first months in that weird painful space. I savored all her milestones and the little moments in between all while bracing myself against the sharp jabbing reminders that this was it, the last time I'd see these firsts. Celebrating her and mourning her brother all at the same time.

Because yes, it is a brother for my girls that I covet and dream of. A little boy who would look just like his dad.

And why does this make me so sad, you ask?

Well, simply because as each day goes by, that dream becomes more and more nebulous, more and more unattainable.

My husband never wanted the second child. It's harsh, but really he was content with just the one. A second would just rock the boat, make our lives more complicated. Life was already overwhelming enough. I was undaunted. I wielded my charms and my persuasive arguments until he caved. And so the second was born. And he was right. She did rock the boat. She did make life more complicated. She did overwhelm us.

She never slept. She cried whenever I left her line of sight. She needed us - me - in a way her sister never demanded.

But she also filled our hearts in ways I never expected. She completed our family in a way we hadn't anticipated.

And so you'd think I'd be able to once again wield my charms and display my persuasive arguments and win the fight for the third. But you'd be wrong. Because two months before that little second one was born the game changed. One of my husband's cervical discs ruptured and our life was altered. Chronic pain and all it entails came to live with us and overwhelmed us more than even the squalling infant could when she really put her heart into it.

I never gave up hope. Not then at least. Discs heal, and if they don't they can be removed. Necks can be fixed. Lives can be reclaimed. So our garage overflows with bouncy chairs and bins of baby clothes. I hoarded every outgrown item... just. in. case. I loaned out baby things, but I never gave anything away. just. in. case.

This past April, while undergoing pre-operative procedures for the surgery that would give us our lives back, my husband was diagnosed with a lifelong, chronic illness, one that postponed the surgery indefinitely. One that stripped me of my hope for that third child.

Oh, hope didn't die right away. It lingered. It stayed. It was there the day I bought a micro-van with 6 seats... just. in. case. It was there the day we started looking for a bigger house and I would only entertain one with three bedrooms just. in. case.

Hope lingered until this weekend when it finally died. Ironically it only died after being bolstered to its highest point by weeks of relative good health and the rescheduled appointment to discuss finally scheduling that disc surgery.

A new symptom arose, seemingly overnight, and took with it my dream.

It's not a bad symptom as symptoms go. In fact, it might not even be related to my husband's illness. It could be something run-of-the-mill that a short course of antibiotics will clear up. But I saw him react to this new development and I knew in my heart, that while I might, one day, get to that place where the challenges of a newborn don't phase me, he'll never again get there - no matter how convincingly I plead.

Last night I accused my husband of being in denial about the nature of his illness. I told him that he needed to face the fact that he'd never been promised a particular life, he'd just been promised a life and that this was the one he got. A life filled with uncertainty and unpredictable challenges. I told him that accepting the nature of this life of his would be the key to getting through life relatively unscathed. It's like being on a roller-coaster; if you fight the movement of the train you get hurt, if you let go and relax into the experience you can enjoy the ride.

I may have been right, but I wasn't fair with him. I've been in denial too. Heck, I've been in denial and fighting reality for four years now.

I agreed to marry the man come hell or high water. I was not promised a perfect life with three children in a cute little white picket fenced house. I might have wanted that and hoped for it, but I was not promised any of it.

I am angry and I am sad. I have been robbed of my dream, but it was just that, a dream, a vision, a hope. The sooner I can let go of that ideal the faster I can get on with living and loving the life I did get. The life I do have. The one with a husband who loves me so much he'd face his fears to have the second child I coveted. The one with two beautiful, amazing daughters, who fill my heart with laughter and joy. The one where the only thing missing is a little boy named Max who only has ever, and will ever, live in my heart.

It's time to clean out the garage. It's time to move on.

Crossroads are funny places

Source: Uploaded by user via Lisa on Pinterest

Have you ever found yourself standing at a crossroad? Virtual or real, it's all the same really.

You're there and there are options. And you can really go in any direction, because, what's to stop you?

Do you take the path expected of you? Dictated by life, circumstance, societal expectations?

Do you take the path that calls to your heart? Dictated by childhood dreams and hopes?

How about the path that calls to your head? The rational path. The one that makes sense financially, feasibly, logically? The one that works for your whole family even if it denies the path your heart would take?

It's paralyzing, the crossroad. While you're standing there it's so tempting to turn around and just go back the way you came, down the known road, back to where you understand what's expected of you and what you need to do to meet those expectations. That known road calls to you like a cozy comforter waiting to wrap you up in certainty and soothe you with familiarity.

At the same time, it's also exciting that crossroad. Adventure awaits after that first step. Adventure fraught with surprises and challenges, sure, but who doesn't crave some adventure in their lives, even at cost? Isn't that why we read, to live adventure and uncertainty vicariously? When you stand at the crossroads yourself there's no need for vicarious living any more. Experiences can come first hand.

The problem with all of the road options that face us at the crossroads is that each comes with a toll.

What will you have to give up when you head in one direction? Which dreams will suffer or be need tossed all together?

Sadly the roads can't all be taken at once. Choices have to be made.

So how do you choose which dreams to forfeit so that new futures can be forged? How do you let go of resentment when you feel pushed down one road and dreams are being forfeited for you? Does putting your whole heart into the path you chose help release that resentment? Does letting go of childhood expectations help?

Crossroads are funny, paralyzing places. They're terrifying to stand in, and even scarier to leave.

Have thoughts about Crossroads of your own? Hop on over. That's the Kick in the Blog topic of the week.