i'm guest blogging today!

I'm super excited to be a guest blogger today over at A Dollop Of My Life! Lindsey is a wonderful photographer and mommy to two cute boys and her blog is one of my favorites! Such an honor to be blogging over there today.

Feel free to pop over and say hello!

i know that victory is sweet even deep in the cheap seats

I have these great intentions to compose these elaborate blog posts but something's been happening, something's been getting in the way -- time, maybe, or the lack thereof. Something of that nature. All these things I'm dying to mention, to write about, swirling around in my brain and then all of the sudden it's dark outside and I can't believe the clock is telling the truth. These days have all been so full. Filled to the brim to the point where there is little to no white space left on my dry erase calendar that spells out our month for me because Ethan is far more popular than I ever was. Filled to the brim with places to go, people to see, recipes to make, activities to try. Yesterday my mind bubbled over a bit and I was left biting my nails and frantic that all of these things couldn't fit into a day even if I wanted them to.

We spent the morning at a splash pad with some friends. The splash pad belongs to a park that was built when I was in middle school and had no interest in such childish things. It's different now as an adult, running through the sprinklers in your clothes just to watch your child erupt with laughter, knowing you'll be driving home in soaking wet clothes but also knowing that's okay because his laughter makes it worth it. His laughter is everything. And these days, his laughter is booming, his smile is everywhere, his personality is lighting up the sky like the summer sunshine.

Each night I kiss Ethan goodnight and repeat a line from a Taylor Swift song that I've been reciting to him since he was born: I had the best day with you today. Each night I wish him the sweetest of dreams and when he does sleep, when he does dream, I swear something magical is happening. Each morning he wakes up a little bit older than he was the day before, a little bit more like a kid and less like a baby. Each day I am captivated by the fact that here he is, my son, with his larger than life personality (and belly to match!) running up and down the splash pad like he's been running all his life. This afternoon, I chased him around the park perimeter and he didn't stumble once.

These days, we are busy. We go to bed absolutely tired, not a spark of life left in us. But these days have been so very good. So, so very good. We've really been living.

with a little help from my friends

Once upon a time, I had a baby and realized none of my friends had babies and thought I'd never, ever have any mom friends and both Ethan and I would be destined to be lonely, miserable people forever. When Ethan was two months old, we joined My Gym and found a group of friends who became just that -- friends. From the time our babies just laid on blankets and stared up at us blankly to now that they're beginning to ask for one another by name, we've formed this awesome, strong group of friends and I love it. As I'm glued to my computer while also participating in today's Blog-A-Thon, I felt compelled to make this post and say thank you to this wonderful group of moms who have stepped into our lives and ensured that, no, Ethan and I won't be lonely and friendless forever. (There are some faces missing from this photo but you all know who you are and how grateful I am towards you and how grateful Ethan is for your snacks which inevitably are better than the ones I pack him!)

Yesterday a bunch of us had a private cooking class at a local children's cooking school. Getting a group of toddlers together to decorate chef hats and soft pretzels is much more a work-out than it seems but it was a wonderful afternoon spent with a great group of friends. As a mother, I've found it so refreshing to be able to declare that I don't even remember the last time I've washed my hair and have others commiserate. I love not apologizing for my dirty floors that just won't stay clean or having to explain away or defend Ethan's sodium-free multi-grain O's that taste like cardboard. It's wonderful being able to text someone about your child's relentlessly red butt and knowing they'll be able to offer some reassuring advice or at least a sympathetic story about the time their child had a red butt that just wouldn't quit, either. Motherhood sure isn't glamorous, but it's a total blast if you're in it with the right group of friends.

Yesterday we made up a Kindermusik class that we missed due to Ethan being sick. It was a new day, time and location and therefore a new group of kids altogether. Ethan sat there during the class, his hand placed nervously on my knee. He needed my reassurance and encouragement to play with the instruments he plays with every week during our own class. Even the teacher noticed he wasn't really being himself. Later that afternoon was our cooking class and I watched as Ethan looked through the glass and saw his friends walking towards the store. He pointed, turned to me with this excited smile on his face and ran up to the window to push his face against the glass, smiling as he watched his friends enter the store. I always knew that he knew his friends, seeing as how most of them have been together for over a year of their little lives, but I didn't realize just how much he understood what friendship truly was. It warmed my heart to know that Ethan already has this strong grasp on friendship -- and what wonderful friends we're fortunate enough to have!

blogging for breathing is a go

For the next 24 hours -- from 8:00 a.m. EST on 9/1 until 8:00 a.m. EST on 9/2 -- I'm glued to my computer for the 2012 Blog-A-Thon. I have to blog once every 30 minutes for the next 24 hours and, well, as a mother (who has spent the entire week cooped up inside with a sick toddler), I'm pretty nervous about the up-all-night thing! Talk about daunting.

Feel free to pop over to A is for Albuterol, my blogging platform during the Blog-A-Thon, and leave me some motivational comments or messages of "hello!" throughout the day and evening! I'll also still be accepting donations throughout the Blog-A-Thon, but the earlier you donate the more prizes you have the chance to win -- I'll be doing random.org raffles all day and all night! So many great prizes have been donated, included entry into one of Ashley Ann's SnapShop photography courses for the month of October! (Every $5 donation enters you into the raffles.)

I'm getting pumped and trying to stay optimistic -- I can do this! All for a great cause and only appropriate that Ethan's nebulizer is humming on in the background while I type this. Every dollar I raise provides nebulizers for those in need through Global Links and their fabulous Nebulizer Campaign!

and they'll say all the salt in the world couldn't melt that ice

These past few days have been a whirlwind as sick days usually are, filled with hacking and sneezing and coughing and yet still only the subtlest hint of that notorious wheeze that Ethan is known for. I've been too afraid to jinx it and yet still so silently thankful towards Ethan's doctor for changing his nebulizer medications at just the right time so that his system was strong enough to fight this without any added discomfort. Talk about things working out for the better and falling into perfect placement.

Ethan and I have spent the past couple of days at our home away from home, our local salt therapy facility. (For South Florida locals, we use The Salt Suite in Delray Beach, (561) 316-7258.) Halotherapy -- or salt therapy -- has been such an incredible experience for us. I say "us" because I've watched our sessions melt away Ethan's congestion and help his breathing tremendously within fifteen minutes and as a chronic sinus pressure sufferer, I've felt a sense of complacency towards my own breathing. We spent a lot of time at salt therapy when Ethan was younger and couldn't go more than four to five hours without a nebulizer treatment and I credit it for helping his respiratory system and getting it to the place it's at now. These past couple of visits to The Salt Suite have been Ethan's first since he began walking and it was endearing to watch him to try to waddle his away across the sand, nervously and carefully, wobbly and unsure.

These past few days haven't been all salt and fun and toys and easy-breathing. They've been full of crankiness and sleep made impossible by the nuisance that is a post-nasal drip cough. They've been full of actual tantrums in which Ethan flails himself backward while screaming at the top of his lungs and shaking his head "no, no, no" at whatever it is I'm trying to offer him, be it an apple or a sip-up of coconut water or the felt board I spent three hours making for him. Nothing made him happy, not even Bunny Cakes or dance parties in the living room or baths with lots and lots of bubbles. Yesterday afternoon we couldn't find his water anywhere (as it turned out, he hid it next to my nightstand) and we both sat on the living room rug and sobbed. Sobbed and sobbed until we were both a mess of red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks and complete apathy and disgust for everything around us. And then, like that, we stood up and went outside to play with the sand and water table and for a brief moment enjoyed the feeling of sun on our skin and in our hair. You know you've been sick and stir-crazy for far, far too many days when the air-conditioning makes you feel slimy and stale and clammy and the 98 degree weather feels like a dream.

I think the storm has come and gone, taking with it the sleeplessness and the tossing and turning. Taking with it the tantrums and the turned-down mouth of a little boy who is too uncomfortable to smile. Taking with it the food thrown on the floor and the black beans mashed into the grout. Taking with it the germs and the colds and the coughs and the glassy, runny eyes.

We have a lot riding on this weekend. Ethan and I are on the same page. Today he took a two hour nap -- the first in some time -- and woke up ready to chase me down the hallway until his laughter was coming so hard that he couldn't stand up without collapsing into a pile of giggles. I think it's safe to say we're back.