It's her potty and I'll cry if I want to!

Never listen to your mother when she's making you feel bad. These would be wise words to live by. Unfortunately my Mom seems to have the power to manipulate me. As much as I try to avoid it, on some level, I do crave her approval.

Mom was on my case about potty training Michelle. According to Mom I had waited too long. Mom had us all potty trained at 9 months. Now Michelle was nearly 2 years old and hadn't been trained. Slacker that I am. I tried to reason with Mom. There was no rush. The deadline, if any, would be 4 years old when she starts school. (Kids HAVE to be trained before school of course because there's no way a teacher is changing diapers for 20 kids!) Most kids start using the potty between 2 and 3 years old. A child isn't even able to control bladder and bowel muscles until about 24 months. The average potty training age is 27 months. When I first bought Michelle the Princess potty seat (when she was about 15 months) I did try briefly -- not really "training" her but just trying her on it to get her used to the idea. It was a novelty and she kept asking to go on the potty just for the attention and stories. She never did anything. I got fed up and told her flat out not to SAY she had to go potty unless she REALLY had to go. The novelty wore off and she stopped asking. I was relieved because it was more of a nuisance than anything. "Potty Mama," at all hours of the night and day just to manipulate me. Not cool.


But now, at 23, almost 24 months, she had been asking to watch the Elmo potty DVD over and over. She talked about going potty. I thought it was a sign that she was ready. A child has to be physically and emotionally ready for potty training. If they're ready, it's a breeze. If they're not ready, it's close to impossible. Every child is different and you can't compare. My sister said my niece Shannon was extremely easy to potty train. She got it in like a couple of days. My nephews weren't quite as easy.

Because Michelle is so advanced in many ways (especially her vocabulary) my Mom assumed she would be easy to train. She's a smart girl. She can do this. I kind of fell for it too. This will be a piece of cake. I decided I was going to go for it. I researched how to go about it. I picked up every potty book I could find: an Elmo potty book with sound effects, an Elmo search and find, a girl's potty book, another potty book with a flushing noise, a Caillou potty book and an Ernie potty book. I also got her an Elmo potty coloring book that came with a chart and stickers. I went on the internet and found a list of songs and rhymes to sing to encourage her on the potty. I had packs of pull-ups and brand new pairs of princess underwear. I had rewards -- stickers, presents. I had a potty seat for each toilet (Disney Princesses and Minnie Mouse) and a stepping stool so I could help her sit on the big girl toilet as well as a froggy potty for the floor that she could sit down on by herself. I was ready!

So I had a week off and I decided it would be a good time to potty train Michelle, just before she turns 2. Of course it would probably only take a week, right? I was feeling really ambitious, cocky (aka STUPID!) and decided that week that I would also take on Jillian Michaels' "One Week Shred." I'd been working out since April. I'd lost close to 20 lbs but I still had another 6 lbs to lose. The One Week Shred boasted that you could lose 7 lbs in just one week. So far I'd been losing about a pound a week. A pound a day sounded a lot better! Especially with it being Summer. I wanted to wear a bikini in public again. So I was going to attempt my hardest workout (a grueling routine consisting of a morning strength workout and an evening cardio workout. An hour of working out each day.) and potty training IN THE SAME WEEK. I was Icarus and I was flying straight into the sun. Boy, did I get burned!

The first day I was actually hopeful. As soon as we got up in the morning I sat Michelle on the potty. She was resistant for a moment but then she was excited about the new books. She laughed at my silly songs and rhymes. "It's my potty and I'll pee if I want to..." And then, the magic happened: she did a pee! Just a little trickle but it was a pee in the potty and I was thrilled. Success! I made a huge fuss of her. I made sure she knew that Mama was very happy and proud of her. She was a big girl now using the potty! She could even wear underwear if she wanted to! I showed her the pretty Disney princess undies I got for her. Maybe she'd want to try them on and see how soft and comfy they were. Much better than diapers! She'd never want to wear diapers again. She got to pick out a sticker and put it on the chart. She got up on the stool and washed her hands at the sink. She could barely even reach the stream of water from the tap. How did Mom have us wash our hands at 9 months I wondered. I guess she didn't.

I put a pair of undies on Michelle as an experiment. I figured she wouldn't be able to go in the undies so she'd have to tell me. I put on the Elmo potty DVD while I made breakfast. I told Michelle to make sure she tells me as soon as she gets that feeling that she has to go pee or poo. Things seemed to be going well. She'd be trained by the end of the week, I thought.

Then all of a sudden she went "Uh oh" and she peed all over the floor. I thought wearing the undies would be a deterrent but she just stood there and peed right through them. Thank God I don't have carpet in the living room. And thank Heaven I had a lot of paper towels. I tried not to get angry. After all I'd had to listen to Grover & Elmo singing "Accidents happen and that's OK!" about 50 times. It could have been worse. It could have been diarrhea on carpeting. But I'm a bit of a germophobe and cleaning urine off the hardwood is not fun for me. So I decided that was it. No more undies until she'd had dry diapers for a day, or three. I had bought some pull-ups to use during potty training. They seemed the perfect transition because they absorb like a diaper but pull up like underwear. I even got ones that change colour when they're wet and that get a bit cooler when wet as a signal to the child "Uh oh! Time to go potty!" In theory, anyway.

After breakfast, I was waiting for cues that Michelle was ready to poop. You could usually tell when she had to go because she'd avoid you at all costs. She'd go off and hide in a corner, slip in between the couch and the wall. She'd try to lay low so you wouldn't try to change her. Those are the times I can actually get something done -- dishes, etc. I know I have a few moments of peace because Michelle doesn't bug me when she's gone poo. She doesn't want me to know. But now it was different. I was potty training. So I was on her like white on rice. "Do you need to go potty? Do you have to poo?" "No," she would say. I watched her like a hawk. If it looked like she was about to squat or go off and hide, I scooped her up and ran with her to the potty. I'd sit her there, read her stories, sing her songs, wait and wait and wait until my butt was numb and my back aching from sitting on a ceramic tile floor, All for naught. She would not go poo in the potty. I've heard that kids have a hard time with numero dos on the potty. For some reason, even when kids are OK with peeing on the potty, going poop is a big hurdle. It freaks them out somehow. I don't understand why. You would think that it would be a relief to defecate in a toilet instead of in your pants. Why would anyone want to sit in their own feces, wet dirty and smelly?

The next few hours were excruciating. It was like a Mexican standoff. I kept watching Michelle, waiting for her to do something. I kept running her to the potty only to have her do nothing. To make matters worse, I was supposed to be doing my morning strength workout. I didn't want to have breakfast until after my workout (I was counting calories and trying to keep them as low as possible. I'm always ravenous after a workout so I didn't want to have to eat two breakfasts.) I couldn't eat until I'd done my workout and I couldn't do my workout until Michelle went poo on the potty (because I knew the second I was occupied with something else, she'd squat and do it in her diaper.) I was starving and getting frustrated and angry. I am a control freak and I don't enjoy situations beyond my control. This clearly was. So my whole day revolved around watching Michelle and waiting for her to go. Then I had to go myself. Sure enough the second my back was turned, she went in her diaper. Fail. I was so disappointed. It was hard not to get angry. "Why would you do that? You were supposed to tell Mama when you needed to go."

Between my workout and potty training I was physically and emotionally drained. It was brutal. I was so stressed. Everyone told me potty training would be stressful but nothing really could have prepared me.

The next day I decided to try something radical. A lot of people said they potty trained by having their kids go around naked. Then if they needed to go, they'd have to put it somewhere. I had initially been against the idea of sitting a potty in the middle of the living room. To me, it was disgusting. I didn't really even want to use the little froggy potty I'd gotten as a backup. So far she'd only ever been on the actual toilet with the princess seat on it but now I was desperate. I'd try anything if it would work. So I stood Michelle in the living room wearing nothing but a smile, once again watching the Elmo potty DVD. "See Michelle, if you need to go potty, it's right here. You can just squat and go on the froggy potty. You can sit on it yourself like a little chair. You don't even need Mama to help you up." No clothes to take off, no step to climb up on, it couldn't be easier. Again, we played the waiting game. I waited and watched and watched and waited. I tried her on the potty a few times. She did nothing. Not even a pee. For HOURS. Considering how many cups of milk she drinks, this is UNHEARD OF. She had to go. She must by now. She was deliberately holding it in. At least I know she can control her muscles. Finally, the dam broke.

"Uh oh!" I heard her say when my back was turned for a second. And there it was. She had peed all over the floor. RIGHT BESIDE THE FROGGY POTTY! "Really? Are you kidding me? Michelle! The potty is RIGHT THERE! You could have sat down and gone RIGHT THERE!" You're not supposed to get angry or be negative during potty training. You're supposed to be a saint, supernaturally patient and kind and forgiving. "Accidents happen!" Grover and Elmo continued to sing until I wanted to slap their furry monster faces. This wasn't an accident. She had AMPLE opportunities to go on the potty in the bathroom or even in the middle of the living room. I was furious. I had to walk away.

I sat down on the floor and cried. I felt like a failure. I was always very hard on myself. In school I always had to get straight 'A's. I beat myself up if I got a B. I had to be the best. Failure wasn't an option. My fear of failure was so strong that if I didn't think I could do something well, I just wouldn't attempt it. That was why I didn't take phys ed, didn't play sports. That was also partly why I didn't plan to have kids. I didn't think I was mature enough, responsible or patient enough to care for another small human.

It wasn't working. This wasn't healthy for Michelle or me. I kept trying to catch her in time so she'd HAVE to go poo on the potty but it was no use. She would deliberately hold it in until the diaper was back on. One night she even pooed during the night which she had NEVER done. She would go to any lengths to elude me. This was a battle I could not win. I'd drive myself insane trying. And it couldn't be healthy for her to be holding it in either.

To add insult to injury I was killing myself with the workout and only lost a pound (though there may have been a delayed reaction because the next week I started a new workout -- Dancing With the Stars Cardio Dance and I started to lose a pound a day. I think my metabolism just finally changed. Thank Heaven. It was a long time coming. I reached my goal weight minus 1 lb.)

It was foolish of me. I had unrealistic expectations. Michelle was so bright and advanced for her age that I kind of assumed, as my Mom had suggested, that she would be easy to train. But going potty has nothing to do with being smart. It's about being physically and emotionally ready. Michelle is a control freak too. She has to get her way. She wasn't going to do what I wanted if it wasn't what she wanted. I was hopeful because she did seem to want to please me. She was always talking about wanting to make me happy and proud. She was excited to get stickers on the chart. I even had a "poo present" wrapped up for when she did her first poo on the potty. Of course it didn't happen. Not in July anyway. Rewards, bribery, I would have done anything to make it work but it just wasn't meant to be. Not for Michelle. Not yet.

In the midst of my week of Hell, talking to my Mom made me feel even worse. She informed me that some actress (Alicia Silverstone) was on Dr. Oz bragging that she potty trained her kid at 6 months. Well, whoop de whoop. I had heard about Alicia's parenting style before. Something about her chewing on food and spitting it into her kid's mouth. She's an attachment parent and believes in co-sleeping etc. While I do agree with her there (I've been co-sleeping with Michelle since birth), I don't go as far as masticating food for Michelle like a crazy Mama bird. And no I did not potty train Michelle as an infant. I don't believe that "elimination communication" really works. If you're potty training your kid under a year old, it's not the kid that's trained, it's YOU. YOU are just sticking your baby on the potty all day long. Frankly, I don't have that kind of time! Just trying to do it for a week was brutal. I'd had enough so I went off on my mother "Yeah, well maybe if I was a MILLIONAIRE actress with a full staff to clean my house, make the meals. Maybe if I had NOTHING ELSE to do but to sit my baby on the potty ALL DAY LONG then maybe I could be like Alicia too! But I'm a SINGLE MOM! There's no help. I have to go shopping, cook the meals, do the chores, earn a living, do everything ON MY OWN without even a deadbeat dad in the picture to help ONE IOTA!" And I hung up on my mother. Don't listen to your mother when she's making you feel bad. Sometimes I do take my own advice.


So I called my sister. She's the opposite of my Mom: Nurturing, kind, understanding. She never makes me feel bad about myself. She always puts things in perspective. May is an angel. She has gotten me through some of the toughest times in my life and she got me through potty training week. She told me not to beat myself up. Michelle wasn't ready and there was nothing I could do about that. She said Reggie wasn't ready when she first tried with him. So she tried again a few months later and he got it in under a week. Michelle wasn't even officially two yet. Even my Mom realized she had to back off. She told me I had become "obsessed." The whole thing was pushing me over the edge. My whole existence suddenly revolved around getting Michelle to urinate and defecate in the toilet and it was making me miserable. So I gave up. No more pressure. If Michelle asked to go potty I would gladly put her on it but I wasn't bringing it up again. I wasn't going through that any more. Interestingly, the next time I had to work and my Mom was watching Michelle I said "Ok Mom. See if you can do better, work your magic!" Part of me would have been jealous and furious if Michelle went potty for my Mom instead of me but part of me would have been relieved if she'd been trained, even by someone else. Of course my Mom had no luck either. You can not make that girl do something she doesn't want to do (I hope she stays that way when she starts dating boys! Stand your ground girl! Just say no!) My Mom has an excuse for everything though. "It's because you started her too late." And you want to scream. Let it go.

Emotionally spent after one of the worst weeks of my life, I then got some sad news that my Aunt Romana, my Dad's oldest sister, had passed away. She lived in Italy and I hadn't seen her in years but I had some very fond memories of her. Years ago when I was with my boyfriend of 9 years we had made a trip to Europe (my only trip to Europe) backpacking in England, France, Italy, Switzerland and Germany. While in Italy we stayed with my Zia Romana in her apartment in Latina, 40 minutes from Rome. We also got to stay at her house in Pisterzo, a beautiful, quaint little village on a mountaintop. We got to see the house where my father was born. It was such an amazing adventure. Romana was so sweet and generous and welcoming. She opened her home and her heart to us. I will always cherish the memories of that time. She cooked for us -- Delicious home made pasta (noodles that have been made by hand -- watching her rolling the dough was so cool -- are a billion times better than store bought ones.) Cleaned for us. Took care of us. Insisted on giving us gifts (though we tried to explain we couldn't carry much in our backpacks). She proudly introduced us to everyone in town. I didn't understand most of what they were saying but I kept hearing "Bella!" and she said I looked like the "Madonna" (Mary, not the singer! A compliment either way though!) One of my regrets is that I didn't get a picture of Romana. She didn't like having her photo taken and kept making excuses every time I asked. "No. No. Maybe tomorrow when I'm fixed up." And then she never was fixed up. And then it was time for us to catch the train and we were rushed and I never got to take a picture with her. People may mock me (and many have!) for taking too many photos but I will tell you this: I never regret the pictures I take. I regret the ones that I missed.

The news didn't fully hit me until I was driving later that day. Michelle was asleep. A sad song came on the radio. Singing about memories, times that were lost. Suddenly I had flashbacks of being in Italy and staying with Romana and I started to bawl. The way she smiled. The way she touched my cheeks and said "Che bella! Che bella Madonna!" (By the way, driving while you're crying is NOT a good idea. Driving while you're tired is a terrible idea as well but I'll save that for another blog.)

July proved to be a pretty trying month. I was hoping the Summer would bring some rest and relaxation but sometimes even trying to relax is stressful when you're a single Mom to a toddler! Nothing is easy with Michelle. The expression "a walk in the park" is supposed to mean that something is a breeze, no problem. With Michelle even a walk in the park is stressful. Will she hold my hand and walk nicely or go darting off suddenly toward the road? Or will she throw a tantrum and humiliate me. A day at the beach used to be a relaxing experience, before having Michelle. It's different now. It can still be fun. It's just much more challenging and sometimes downright scary. Even if the weather is perfect and Michelle is in a good mood it's a struggle. I have to try to load up a stroller with a tent, a bag of towels and clothes, beach toys, snacks, drinks and then push the stroller (which once Michelle and all the baggage are in it, weighs about 150 lbs) through the sand. If you've never pushed a heavy stroller through sand, you can't quite imagine what it's like. The wheels sink into the soft sand and you have to push (or pull, which seems to be easier) with all your might to make it budge. And you're not going very far. Better set up camp as close as you can to the parking lot. It's just about impossible. It's a good workout at least.

I love the beach so I wanted to go as often as possible, easy or not. Sometimes I got lucky and Michelle was good, other times not so much.

So one day the weather was perfect and Michelle wanted to go so I thought we'd give it a whirl. Port Dover is my favourite beach because I love palm trees and there aren't too many places you can find them in Ontario! I paid $10 to park, dragged the stroller through the sand, struggled with the wind to get the umbrella to stay put and I was ready for a day of fun. Unfortunately it barely lasted an hour. Michelle decided to be impossible. She didn't nap and was in a cranky mood. She hated the water. She didn't want to play in the sand. I explained that water and sand are the very DEFINITION of a beach and it was her idea to come here but she would not listen to reason. There was no pleasing her. I couldn't seem to cheer her up or convince her to do anything other than shriek and complain so I packed everything up and left and cried on the way home. I thought about trips to the beach in the past. Grand Bend. Wasaga. Port Dover. The adventure of driving to Daytona Beach. The amazing experience of being at the Grand Paradise in Samana, Dominican Republic. The life I used to have when I could actually just relax and enjoy the warm sun on my skin, the sand between my toes. Listen to the sound of the waves and seagulls flying. When I could float on my back in the cool water looking up at the sky. Not a care in the world. I didn't know how easy I had it. Trying to drive home and every song on the radio seemed to be about Summer or lost dreams. So I bawled. (and yeah, again, crying and driving don't mix.) Then I got lost on a country road because I was crying and missed where I was supposed to turn and it just seemed to go from bad to worse. I can really throw a pity party sometimes and I sure had one that day. Michelle fell asleep and had a long nap because of course she was overtired. I was discouraged that I wouldn't get to enjoy Summer, the beach or anything ever again.

Luckily our next trip to the beach went MUCH better. We went to Burlington Beach with May, Shannon and Reggie (my Mom decided to stay home) and it was AWESOME! Michelle was in a good mood. She had a blast playing with Reggie and Shannon and even made friends with some other girls on the beach. She still refused to go in the water but she loved running around, dancing and playing in the sand. I even got to relax in the sun for a bit while she played nicely. It was a perfect day. Why can't every day be like that?!

Sometimes she's my little angel and she makes me so happy and proud. Strangers remark how cute she is, how tall she is for her age, how clever she is. Then there are the days she's a screaming banshee and people just shake their heads or glance over in annoyance or sympathy at my plight. And it's a crap shoot. You never know what you're going to get. Some days it's the terrible twos and some day it's the terrific twos. Of course she wasn't even two yet. In celebration of her upcoming birthday we shared some birthday cake ice cream from the snack shop at the beach. DELICIOUS! Even though I'd been counting calories for months I allowed myself a couple of cheat days a week.

Our next trip to the beach with the whole group was disastrous. We headed to Port Dover with my Mom, Auntie May, Shannon and Reggie. Michelle napped on the way so I thought we had a good chance of having a good day. Strangely, she stayed asleep even as I moved her to the stroller and into the tent once it was set up. My Mom had a pillow and I lay her on a towel, in the shade. It was a hot day but cool enough in the shade. I figured she must have been really tired to nap that long. It gave me a break at least. I was able to go and swim in the water with May and the kids while Mom kept an eye on Michelle. I kept looking to the shore for signs from Mom. "Thumbs up?" I would gesture meaning "Is everything Ok? Is she still asleep?" Poker face. No hand signals. No reaction. Mom didn't seem to understand basic sign language. I had to run back to shore to ask how Michelle was. I finally told Mom just flail your arms if Michelle wakes up screaming.


For a while, it felt like a vacation. I could actually relax on the beach, swim in the water (Michelle never lets me take her in the water). This was great. I started to worry though (and my Mom was way ahead of me for worrying. She's a hypochondriac so every time Michelle does ANYTHING, Mom thinks she's sick. She throws a tantrum: "Maybe she's coming down with something." She sneezes once "Maybe she's coming DOWN with something." She coughs lightly, or doesn't eat that much, or pretty much does anything that an impossible toddler does, maybe she's coming down with something. My Mom even admits she ran to the doctor's office so often with all of us kids that the doctor just told her to stop coming. There's no cure for a cold, your kids are fine. Calm down.) So I usually just tune her out.

But even I was getting worried when Michelle was still asleep for a couple of hours. Sometimes her naps do last 2 hours if she's really tired but this was different. Plus I didn't want her to miss out on the fun of playing with her cousins. She got up at nearly dinnertime and was asking for a hot dog so we went to the snack bar to get one and then the day got REALLY bad. All of a sudden she threw up, on the pavement, right by the picnic table at the restaurant. OMG. If there's anything worse than your kid throwing up in public, right next to where people are eating, I don't know what. I had to clean her up as best I could, change her clothes, I didn't have extra clothes for me (and I got splashed too.) Maybe she had heat stroke? Maybe it was spoiled milk? Who knows but now I was worried. When we got back home Michelle seemed fine. She was running around, laughing and playing with Reggie and Shannon. After they left however I noticed that Michelle seemed really warm. (She's always warm, like a little furnace but this was hotter than usual.) I dug out the baby thermometer and took her temperature. It was over 101. That seemed high to me. I called my sister. She said she thought 102 was really high and if it went to 102 I should take her to the hospital to get checked out. I was pretty sure 103 was the official "fever" number. I remembered the cheesy song from the 80s "I'm HOT-BLOODED, check it and see. I've GOT A FEVER of 103." I called Mom. That was a big mistake. She really had me worried. She thought I should go to the hospital too. She even told me to read up on the symptoms of meningitis. MENINGITIS. Seriously? Thanks Mom! That's helpful when I'm already panicking. Michelle seemed sleepy again and judging by the long nap she'd already had, this was even more of a concern. I was pretty sure it wasn't meningitis but what about heat stroke or something. Was she outside too long? I felt horrible.

I tried to get her temperature down by having a cool bath. It seemed to work but Michelle was shivering and almost seemed to be purple. I kept a cool cloth on her head. I got the cold stuffed monkey out of the freezer and put it on her head. I kept checking her temperature. 101.9. I was scared it would go to 102, 103. Should I go to emergency? Drag her out, wake her up and have her screaming (which makes her even more warm. Her face gets red) and wait for hours to be seen? Finally I decided to call Telehealth. In the past I found that all they ever seem to tell you to do is go to the hospital to get checked out but this nurse was saying the opposite. She was amazing. She was very authoritative. She told me exactly what to do and was very specific. She asked me to take her temperature again. She asked me all sorts of questions (which seemed ridiculous at the time -- about medications, surgeries, etc. I guess they have to cover every possible situation.) I told her that we'd been to the beach, that Michelle had a long nap, maybe she overheated. She threw up at dinner. She hadn't thrown up again but felt really warm. The nurse assured me that 101 was no cause for concern. She said it isn't until 104 that you should start to worry and even then it doesn't necessarily warrant a hospital trip. She told me to calm down. I told her Mom was talking about meningitis. I could almost hear the nurse roll her eyes through the phone. "No. Just ignore your Mom if she's saying things like that." To my great relief, Michelle's temperature kept going down. Now it was 99. Now it was 98. Now it was 97. I was a mess though. I couldn't sleep that night. I hadn't eaten. I was a wreck. When your child is sick it is the worst feeling in the world. You realize just how much you love them and you can't bear for anything to happen to them. The next day Michelle was her lively hyper non-napping self again with a healthy appetite and a normal temperature. The cold monkey and the kind nurse had gotten us through it. I was so glad I didn't rush to the hospital. I refused to be a hypochondriac like my mother. Unfortunately I had inherited the worrying gene and I can worry myself sick, literally. (I did after that episode. I was a wreck.)

Needless to say, I was reluctant to go to the beach for a while after that episode but we did go again in August a few times and thankfully had a wonderful time -- Michelle finally even got in the water but I'll save that for the next blog. This one is dedicated to July (and I'm writing it in September. Hard to find the time!)

Of course the biggest occasion of the year for Michelle was at the end of July -- her birthday! My little girl was turning 2 YEARS OLD! I couldn't resist spoiling her. Princesses, castles, books, puzzles. I love dolls myself so now I have an excuse to shop at Toys R Us without looking crazy (I used to collect Barbies years ago, long before I knew I'd ever have a little girl. I was my own little girl!) I kept picking things up whenever I'd see something really cute or on sale. Before I knew it I had quite a stockpile. I don't buy much for myself anymore but I can't resist getting things for Michelle and with her birthday coming up I really went overboard. She opened some of her gifts at home with me and then I brought the rest to Mom's where the whole family celebrated her birthday.

Thankfully it was a nice day so we could hang out outside. The only problem was the wind. The giant inflatable Minnie Mouse that I got (what WAS I thinking?!) kept threatening to float away and kept attacking me while we were opening gifts. Some of the balloons blew into a tree and popped. I didn't want Minnie to suffer a similar fate so we tried to weigh her down. She was a little more expensive (I got the balloons at the dollar store but they were a little more than a dollar!) She kept blowing into me during the gifts and photos. It was like an obnoxious person behind me at the theatre, whacking me in the back of the head. She was cute though!

Michelle was in a good mood thankfully even though she'd had almost no nap (that can be a fiasco as I'd learned the hard way a couple of times!) She was so excited to see everybody. Plus she'd been looking forward to her birthday for a while. She kept saying "I'm turning two at the end of the month! I'm going to get presents and cake!"

I was so grateful that the day went well. I wanted Michelle to have a very happy birthday. I had worried she would have one of her (in)famous tantrums but she was smiling and laughing and running amok most of the day. She did finally wear herself out by the evening and had a good sleep.

 Her reaction when she opened the Princess Castle (the second one, the first one was for Little People, the second one was for her Barbie sized Princesses -- Cinderella, Rapunzel etc.) was priceless! She was so excited she clenched her fists and jumped up and down. She had picked it out in the store months ago but either didn't realize I'd gotten it for her or forgot about it.

My little girl is growing up so fast. She may be in diapers but she's not a baby anymore. She actually picked out her own party dress. We were in Sears looking at dresses (they have the nicest ones there) and she saw the one covered in pink blossoms and said "This one's fabulous! I love it!" so I had to get it. I can't believe some of the phrases she comes up with -- some from movies or TV, some from me. I have to be really careful what I say. "Oh for Pete's sake!" Michelle will say and it sounds hilarious coming from her. She has become a flatterer (usually when I'm dressed up): "You look beautiful Mama, you're gorgeous!" Some random phrases she comes up with all on her own. One night she says "Goodnight Chipmunks and Superheroes!" before going to bed. I don't know how on Earth she came up with that! She amazes me. She makes me laugh. I am truly blessed.

Michelle loves her Uncle Chris. She doesn't get to see Uncle Mike as often because he's farther away and can't always make it to family events. Not having a Daddy in her life, Michelle really needs male role models in her life. I'm grateful that she has her Grampa and her Uncles. She loves when Uncle Chris lifts her up in the air. "Fly in the sky!" I lift her up too but I can't lift her quite as high as Chris does. (He can throw 30 lbs up like it's a feather!)

In one of Michelle's books there was a tiger cub that gets reunited with his family. When she saw the tiger parents Michelle said "That's Mama and that's Uncle Chris." Instead of Mama and Daddy it was a Mama and Uncle Chris tiger. My Mom thinks it's because she's always telling Michelle "Uncle Chris is your Godfather." She wouldn't know what that means but maybe she figures he's a father of sorts. He has been to my Mom's place to visit a few times while I was at work as well so she sees him pretty often, which is great. I want there to be men in her life and Lord knows there probably won't be one in mine for a long time (if ever at the rate I'm going. There was one day I think a guy was trying to pick me up and I totally shot him down without realizing it until after. D'oh. Oh well. Just as well. My little Leo takes the lion's share of my time/energy. There is nothing left for anyone else.)

It will be tough one day when I have to explain why her father has never been around (and for those who are curious, still not a peep from him by email or anything years later.) He was very troubled and hopefully left because he loved us enough to know we'd be better off without him. He would have been more of a hindrance than a help, a toxic father. I'd like to believe his motives were altruistic. I really hope it wasn't just that he was a cruel, heartless, selfish, spineless coward who couldn't bear the responsibility of a child and had no interest in being a decent human being with a loving family for the first time in his life. I'd like to believe he didn't just choose to slither back into the dark, meaningless life that he was in before he met me (a life he had claimed to want out of, which was why he suggested moving in with me. To get out of the hole he was in. To have a new, better life. I was supposed to be saving him. Of course you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. Anyway I'm getting off on a dark tangent and I'm supposed to be discussing a happy occasion! I do wonder if he ever thinks of her. If he reads this blog, stalks my Twitter, to see how we're doing. If he's curious, if he cares at all.) Some day it would be nice if Michelle had a father figure in her life but I can't even imagine dating at this point.

 I am so incredibly grateful for my big crazy family and especially for my little family of two. Michelle is definitely the love of my life and has brought more joy and meaning to my life than I ever thought possible. Sure she can be difficult sometimes. They don't call them the terrible twos for nothing but when she's at her best, she is extraordinary. Sweet, loving, funny, clever. She sees the magic in the world and helps me to see it too. She is my friend. My partner. The one I share my life with.

I can't believe how fast she is growing up. Two already. Next thing I know she'll be four and heading off to school (I'm DREADING that! It will be so hard to let her go.) Life speeds by. It seems like Summer just started and it's over already. Though this post is about July I'm writing it in September.















After turning two I took Michelle for her 24 month old checkup at the doctor. "Tell the doctor about her fever!" my Mom said. I mentioned everything to the doctor but she didn't have any concerns. She weighed and measured Michelle. "Oh my goodness. She's in the 98th percentile for height." She showed me the chart. At 37 and a half inches Michelle was taller than 98% of 24 month olds, male and female. Her weight, 30 lbs, was also higher than average.

The doctor was impressed at how well spoken Michelle was. "Her comprehension is amazing." Michelle said "Ahh" for the doctor to check her throat and turned her head for the doctor to check her ears. The last time we'd been to the doctor, Michelle wouldn't let the doctor near her ears. "I gave her a doctor kit for her birthday. So she's been checking my ears and taking my blood pressure and everything." Maybe it warmed her up to the idea. I started calling her Dr. Michelle and she liked it. She said she was going to be a doctor when she grew up. I have my fingers crossed. Before she was saying she wanted to be a Princess. Since there aren't many Princes around (my Mom pointed out that Prince George of Cambridge is only a year younger than her, so there's a chance!) I think she's better off focusing on becoming a doctor!


July certainly had its rough spots but ended on a high note at least. August was wonderful with more trips to the beach, family get togethers and adventures. I'll catch up on that in the next blog.

Thank you for reading (if anyone is!) It's nice to hear from people sometimes and to know there are people out there who can relate on some levels. For the most part though, this blog is for me. It's my therapy. It started as a pregnancy/baby blog after Michelle's father left me four months pregnant. Now it's a hard habit to break. I got used to writing these installments and I don't know how to stop. It's a diary. A record of our life story. It's also one of the few things I do for myself. Most of my hobbies and passions have been put on the backburner because 99% of my time and energy is devoted to Michelle. I still feel a need to do something somewhat creative. I used to love writing -- songs, poems, stories. Now this blog is my outlet.

It is hard to find the time but I make time. Just like working out. I can find 30 minutes a day to do something for myself, for my own happiness and health. I've lost 25 lbs since April and I feel stronger than I have in a long time. I did Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred, 6 Week 6 Pack, Yoga Inferno, One Week Shred and Dancing with the Stars Cardio Workout. I've also been counting calories. After months of struggling I've finally reached my goal. I'm not stopping. I'm going to keep working out to maintain my weight. I keep changing my workout because I think it's better for your muscles. I used to try to work out when Michelle was in bed but that became impossible so now I just find ways to work it into the day. A lot of times she's under foot, making me laugh, trying to copy me. I think it's good for Michelle to see me trying to be healthy with diet and exercise. "You look beautiful Mama!" she says and it keeps me going.

June too Soon: Snapshots of Summer

I am a functioning photoholic. I am addicted to capturing every moment of my life in images. It started with my first camera. I was in my 20s and going to Europe (backpacked in England, France, Italy, Switzerland and Germany.) It was old-fashioned film in those days. I had a cheap little 110 mm camera (with the parallax error you had to be careful to point the camera a few feet over from what you actually wanted to take a picture of. My boyfriend at the time had a better camera he borrowed from his Dad.) I went through 30 rolls of film in 26 days. At the time that seemed excessive but I thought I may never be back again and wanted to record everything I saw. I didn't regret any of the photos I took. In fact I wished I had taken more. I was hooked. From then on I was determined to take pictures of EVERYTHING. I couldn't let a photo op pass me by. I almost always had my camera in my purse just in case. I kept trading up for better cameras. They never lasted more than a few years (probably because 3 years with me would be like 20 years with anyone else.) Canon. Kodak. Minolta. Pentax. Nikon. I spent a fortune at photo labs. Back then you had no choice but to print the whole roll. Blurry ones and all.

With digital cameras, the quantity went up a hundredfold. These days I could take 100 pictures in just a couple of minutes. Even just at home, never mind on vacation (if I could afford to take one). Since you don't have to print them all out, why not take a hundred shots to try to get one really good one? A professional photographer told me that once. You shoot quantity to get quality. The more you take the greater the chance that you will capture that perfect moment. You can ignore/delete the myriad shots that don't work out but once in a while you get lucky and get just what you were hoping for. Or better.

I could never resist a good photo op. There were times I didn't have my camera with me and it physically HURT if something cute/amazing happened and I couldn't take a photo of it. Because of course if it's not in a photo, IT NEVER HAPPENED. LOL. My own child is of course the greatest photo op of all time and needless to say I snap countless pictures of her. Time is so fleeting. She's growing up so fast. I'm going to hold on to every single moment. Pictures are forever.

With websites like Twitter and Instagram it seems that more and more people are becoming like me. Taking pictures of just about anything and posting it online for the world to see. I just want to say that I was doing it long before it was cool!

I used to write a blog post every few days. Now that I'm only doing one a month it's hard to capture the whole month in one blog. So this one is June but I'll be lucky if I get it done by August!

In June I  tried to take Michelle out on as many adventures as possible. I worry sometimes that she doesn't have siblings or kids her own age around. I want to do fun things with her. During the long brutal winter months I vowed to enjoy the outdoors as much as possible once Spring came. So once Summer was here, we were out just about every day. The park, the beach, forests, gardens. And naturally, I ALWAYS have my camera on hand. Michelle is used to it by now. "Cheese!" she'll say, often without being prompted. Of course the best smiles are those that come spontaneously when she forgets the camera is even there.

I couldn't wait to check out the Zoo with her. I chose a day when it was a little cooler so I wouldn't spontaneously combust from the heat. We went to the Zoo last year. It was more fun (and more challenging) this time with Michelle being older. She ran amok several times. The problem is that now she can run pretty fast. When I'm in sandals (as opposed to runners) I can barely keep up with her. Sometimes she'll dart all of a sudden as if she's trying to lose me. I've tried explaining to her how dangerous that is but of course she doesn't understand and just laughs at me.

It's amazing how much Michelle has come out of her shell. She used to be quite shy and avoid strangers. Now she's becoming fearless. At the Creature Showcase she was right in there checking out the animals. She's obviously not afraid of snakes (see photo on the right of her reaching out to grab one!) At one point she crawled under the chain and ran out in the middle of the stage. "Really?!" I shouted and crawled under the chain to get her. "Sorry" I muttered at the staff. The audience laughed. Way to embarrass Mama in public. Oh well, at least she was happy and not having a tantrum.

Michelle was so excited to see the animals. The monkeys were still her favourite but she got a kick out of just about everything. If she could have climbed into the cages with them she would have. She's gone from being a relatively timid child to being almost fearless. (I'm in big trouble!) I almost had a heart attack when she bolted into the woods. I had to leave my purse and stroller behind and high-tail it along the dirt path. She was laughing up until the moment I caught her and then she screamed and wriggled to be free. Like a wild animal, I thought at the time. How fitting that we were at the Zoo. I saw someone at the mall walking her child on a leash and it is soooooo tempting. "You don't run away from Mama! You could lose me forever!" I wound up buying new running shoes after that so I can outrun her. Though it can be warm on hot Summer days. I can't believe how fast she can take off. It's scary. When she's a little older there will be no keeping up with her.


Nearly all of my exes made fun of (or complained) about my photo habit. One accused me of being so busy snapping pictures that I wasn't actually "in" the moment to enjoy it. I argued that not only am I in the moment but I'm preserving it forever and can go back and look at it anytime I want. Ironically years later, after we were apart, he thanked me for having taken so many pictures. It was because of me that he had a beautiful photo of himself and his mother smiling. A picture he would treasure all the more after she passed away. His Mom was a fan of my photos too and had some of them (ones of lighthouses) enlarged and framed on her walls.



It goes without saying that I can not pass up a cheesy photo op. It's just too easy. Trying to walk by would physically hurt. It would be like an alcoholic passing by a cold glass of beer on a hot day. Not happening. So no I could not let this tacky monkey cut-out mural go to waste. Michelle and I became monkeys. I didn't think her head would be in the right spot but she actually did a better job than I did (in my defense it was hard stretching over to fit in my hole while balancing her on my leg.)



Even when we're not going anywhere or doing anything special I can't resist taking pictures just hanging out in the backyard or at the park. I love Michelle's laugh and her smile and it's a joy to capture it in photos.



 

 
 

 


 I love dressing Michelle up and going somewhere girlie -- like gardens, galleries and of course, the ultimate photo op: the Butterfly Conservatory. My photo card actually ran out there and I had to painfully go through photos and delete some to make room. Strangely, every time I have ever gone to the Butterfly Conservatory (either the Niagara Falls or the Cambridge one) there is some camera emergency: the battery dies, the memory card is full. At least it kept me from staying too long which is probably a good thing because I was sweating profusely! I remembered them keeping it warm (it is supposed to be a tropical climate for the butterflies) but I didn't remember sweat dripping off my face before. Maybe I was having a hot flash. Maybe it was from chasing/carrying Michelle. I looked around and everyone else was acting normal, they didn't look like they even broke a sweat. Some were even wearing long sleeves and seemed quite comfortable. Meanwhile I was DRENCHED!

It was worth roasting in a sauna though to see Michelle's excitement as she walked around looking at the butterflies. The last time I was there with her, last year, she was walking around bare foot because she wasn't used to shoes yet. It's hard to believe my baby is already a little girl and getting bigger every day. She looks so grown up when I put her in pigtails now and she acts so much older. (With the exception of potty training which was a debacle but I'll save that for my next blog about July...)

Once again I was determined to have a butterfly land on one of us and get a photo of it. One finally landed on her skirt. "Don't move!" I said. I managed to snap a couple of shots before she flinched and it fluttered away. Maybe it was better that she couldn't see it on her. It might have freaked her out. As pretty as they are, they do scare her a little when they fly right at her face.

Most people can afford to go away on vacation -- tropical destinations, cottages etc. I figure I can at least take Michelle on day trips for an adventure, a change of scenery etc. Besides, at least if she has a tantrum on a field trip, we can head home. If she had a meltdown on an airplane for several hours or in another country, that would be pretty scary. (I would still risk it if I won the lottery though! LOL)

There is always at least one special occasion -- birthday or other holiday -- every month. In June it was Father's Day. Since Michelle's father isn't in the picture, I call it Grandpa Day. I got Michelle all dressed up for the occasion. I love putting dresses on her every chance I get. These days she's even started picking them out herself in the store. "This one Mama! I love it! It's fabulous!" (yes, this is an actual quote. She has the vocabulary of a four year old but try getting her to use a potty! Next blog!)






It seemed like Michelle did want a man (or two) in her life that day as she insisted on bringing Ken and Ryan for the drive. When I looked in the rearview mirror I found her hugging them both. Of course anyone can pick up a Ken or Ryan at Walmart. The hard part is finding the life-size version and one that's a good person, kind, loving, employed! For now, I am both father and mother to Michelle. Filling both roles because I have no choice. I am glad there are a lot of men in our family though so Michelle does get to have male figures in her life -- her Grandpa and her Uncle Chris (also her godfather), Uncle Mike and Uncle Shane. As well as her cousin Dan and James. Her Uncles she sees on special occasions but her Grandpa she sees all the time when I go to work. He loves playing with her in the yard, playing ball, pulling her in the wagon, taking her for walks. He's a big help to my Mom when she's watching Michelle.

 I am so grateful to my Dad and my Mom for watching Michelle when I work. I don't know what I'd do without them. I still can't imagine ever leaving her with a stranger. People are quick to remind me that I'll have no choice once she goes to school but that is still a couple of years away and hopefully I'll be ready by then. It will be very hard to entrust anyone with watching her. She means more to me than my own life. I'm even nervous leaving her with my parents but I have to earn a living.

I grew up in a house where Mom was always home. I guess subconsciously I always thought a mother should be home with her kids. I never expected to have kids. Now that I am a Mom she is my number one priority. In a perfect world I would never have to leave her but short of winning the lottery, staying home with her is not an option. As a Single Mom I am the sole breadwinner. (Of course most Single Moms are divorced and are not in quite the same situation. Many of them still have an ex in the picture, a father to share in child care and help financially.) There is no weekend off for me. No time when I don't have her. There are no support cheques or help of any kind. No break. No vacation. The only time I'm away from Michelle is when I work (and I even go through guilt about that.) I've been on my own since I was 4 months pregnant. Maybe the only ones that can really relate would be Single Moms by Choice and Moms like me who found themselves alone unexpectedly (either by disappearance or death of the father.)

We were at the park one day and there was a man pushing his daughter on the swing. "He's a Daddy." Michelle said to me later. "Yes." She thought about it and concluded "Some kids have a Daddy and some have a Mommy. Caillou has a Mommy AND a Daddy." "Yes. Every family is different. You don't have a Daddy but you have a Mommy that loves you very much." I worry that the older she gets the harder the questions will be about her own back story. The truth is I don't know the real story. I will never know (to this day, not a peep from her father) or understand how he could leave the way he did, without a word. I'll have to tell her I don't know why but I hope it was because he loved us enough to let us go and knew we'd be better off without him (because he was more of a burden than a help with so many issues of his own, financially, emotionally and in every conceivable way.)

Michelle has started asking me "Do you love me?" several times a day. I always answer "Yes. I will always love you. No matter what." Even when she's annoying the heck out of me. "Sometimes I make Mama sad or mad," Michelle admits. "Yes but I still always love you no matter what." "And I make you happy and proud?" "Yes you do sweetheart." She is so affectionate she hugs and kisses me and tells me she loves me all day long. Once in a while, to test me I guess, she'll say "I don't love Mama." I smile and say "You don't mean that. I know you love me." Strangely her father used to always ask for reassurance. "Like me, damnit!" he used to say several times a day. "Like me!" he'd demand. Even though I did. I loved him. I let him into my home, my heart, changed my whole life for him. Somehow even that wasn't enough. Maybe because he never loved himself so no reassurance could be enough.

We celebrated Father's Day with the whole family at my sister's place. It was a lovely day and we spent most of it outside. Unfortunately Michelle decided to be difficult and cranky and insisted that I play with her inside the basement. (Auntie May has a play room for the kids in the basement, filled with toys. It's like Wonderland to Michelle. She's always asking to go for a "play day." I tried explaining to her that it's a beautiful day outside and the whole family is outside but she chose to sit in the basement and play with a Fisher Price farm instead. Auntie May even offered to bring some toys outside but Michelle wouldn't budge. The kicker was later when she bumped her head on the kitchen table and screamed so hard she made herself throw up on both of us. I finally snapped and cried myself. At least I managed to get some photos outside with her before it all went to Hell. I had packed an extra outfit for Michelle just in case but hadn't thought to bring one for myself. My sister loaned me a blue dress of hers.
Here are Michelle and I posing with Grandpa in our "post-A-puke-alyptic" outfits!

I was relieved she didn't have a concussion or anything. My dramatic girl throws a complete tantrum if she doesn't get her own way and has an absolute MELTDOWN if she hurts herself accidentally. Luckily when she slips and falls most of the time she just dusts herself off and says "I'm OK. I'm OK." but once in a while when she bangs into something (the corner of a wall, a dresser, or a glass kitchen table) she goes ballistic. I guess I'm lucky most of the time she doesn't have much of a mark and has never needed stitches. KNOCK ON WOOD!

Every Summer I look forward to going to the beach. As I learned last year it is quite a different experience going with a baby. I was hoping it would be a little easier going with a toddler. Unfortunately you just never know how the day is going to go. It's hard to predict the weather and even harder to predict the many moods of Hurricane Michelle.

I'd been working out since April and managed to lose 15 lbs. My goal was to wear a bikini again. I was starting to reach a stage where I thought what the heck. Michelle was actually ASKING to go to the beach. I'd mentioned it to her and got her a new pail and shovel. She'd seen shows about the beach too and wanted to play in the sand. So I thought, Summer's here, let's go for it. Just Michelle and I heading to Dover. I foolishly didn't check the weather ahead of time to see that they were calling for thunderstorms most of the day. In a way it was a blessing because we had the beach to ourselves and it wasn't too hot. Michelle was so excited she was dancing around saying "I love the beach!" and playing in the sand.


Unfortunately we had to pack up when it started to rain but we went around to some of the little shops. A lady working in one of the shops was amazed at Michelle's vocabulary. "How old is she?!" "22 months." "OMG. She sounds like a 4 year old!"

It was a shame the weather wasn't cooperative because Michelle was an ANGEL that day. She napped on the way there, was in a good mood, excited, sweet. She hugged me and kissed me on the beach and said "I love you Mama! I'm so happy!" It would have been a perfect day.

After that I felt more confident about hitting the beach with her again, solo. I made sure this time that I picked a sunny day without a cloud in the sky. This time the weather was cooperative but Michelle, not as much. She didn't nap on the way and was a bit cranky. She threw tantrums on and off. She'd be good one minute, laughing, playing. Then she'd scream because she didn't like the water, didn't want to play in the sand. I suggested leaving since water and sand are really the only things on a beach but then she'd scream "Beach!" because she didn't want to leave. She finally started running amok deliberately darting away from me as fast as she could. I nearly had a heart attack when she'd bolt toward the lake until I realized she's actually terrified of the water. She wouldn't even let me dip her toes in it. (In fairness, the water was still quite cold in June.)

Going to the beach with Michelle alone means I really don't get to go in the water. I have to watch her every second. I really can't sit and relax for more than a few consecutive seconds. It mostly consists of me pulling a 1 ton stroller loaded with things through the sand, smearing Michelle from head to toe with sunblock (and let me tell you this is no easy feat when the lotion is so greasy and sticky and you have sand on your fingers), building sandcastles, chasing seagulls, playing with Barbie and Ken, chasing Michelle around, feeding her snacks, trying to keep her from having a tantrum. I still love it and Port Dover is still my favourite. We had some other good, bad and ugly beach experiences in July but I'll save those for the next blog!

I often feel bad that Michelle doesn't have siblings or kids her own age to play with. She loves visiting her Auntie May and playing with Reggie and Shannon. The other day she said to me "Mama, you're my best friend." It made me tear up. "You're my best friend too sweetheart." I do think it's important for her to interact with other small kids. I'm pleased to see her coming out of her shell more when we're at the park. She'll talk with other little girls there, go on the slides with them, play in the sand. I take her to the park just about every day so I guess she's starting to feel at home there. Sometimes she'll even approach strangers and say "Hi."

 
 
Sometimes I wish I had half (or even one tenth!) of Michelle's energy, enthusiasm, joy for life. When she's not overtired and throwing tantrums, she is pure bliss, basking in the wonder of everything around her. She squeals with glee and shakes with excitement over the smallest things. "Look Mama! A birdie!" "Wow! Pretty flowers!" She is my reminder that it really is a beautiful world and you have to take time to appreciate it. Literally stop to smell (and take pictures of!) the flowers. Michelle is of course my favourite flower, a tough yet delicate little wildflower and it is a joy to watch her grow and blossom more each day.





In addition to taking photos, I have been taking videos of Michelle since she was born as well. I just took one of her on the swing at the park, talking about her birthday. Here it is on Youtube:

 

After posting the video, I went back through my Michelle playlist and watched the other videos, seeing Michelle get younger and younger before my eyes. Watching her first steps again. Seeing her count and say her ABCs. I started to cry. I can't believe how much has happened in the last couple of years. I have to remember when I'm having a rough day with her that these years are so precious. They don't last long. I have to cherish them. 

June ended too soon. Now in the blink of an eye, July is almost over. The Summer (and life for that matter!) just goes by way too fast. As I've said before, photos and this blog are my way of holding on and preserving the memories. The photos here are just a fraction of the ones I have taken. I probably take more pictures in a month than some people do in a lifetime. I don't know how else to be. I have this need to live twice. If it's not in a picture it's like it never happened. I'm a visual person. I have my memories of course but seeing them actually preserved in an image is one of my greatest joys. I was a photoholic even before having a child, so especially now I can't resist snapping away as my little girl grows up before my eyes (and camera lens.) She's about to turn two years old. She's excited about her birthday. She's been saying "It's my birthday at the end of the month. I'm turning 2 years old!" for weeks now. She likes calling herself a big girl and drinking from a big girl cup. She loves putting on my shoes. If only she wanted to use the potty! (Gah! I'll tackle that topic in next month's blog. Suffice it to say, my Mom was pushing me to potty train Michelle and it did NOT go well.)

I guess what I like most about photos is that they are (usually) some of the happier moments, the best, most beautiful times of your life. The people you love, the places you've seen. I don't take pictures of Michelle having tantrums (though perhaps I should, to show her someday -- "Look what you put me through!") or throwing up or being cranky and miserable. I try to capture the smiles, the excitement. Despite the rough patches, pictures remind me that there are so many happy moments and those are what I need to focus on. Life is beautiful and when I look back on Michelle's early years, that is what I will remember the most. Not the tears and tantrums and shrieks and sleepless nights but the adventure, the fun, the joy. The smiles, the love. Despite the tough days, these are still the best days of my life.