If the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Can Make a Comeback, Why Can’t I?

I am lame. I am shallow. I am mean and manipulative.

The painful truths are still dangling in the air weeks after I made the solo decision on what my three year old would be for Halloween. My husband shook his head in unmistakable disappointment when I told him the costume choice and he proceeded to rattle off these insults rather easily. Emma would be dressed as a fairy princess. It is every little girl’s dream come true. It seemed like a no brainer. Everyone wins! Unless you happen to be me, or Emma, or my disgruntled husband who knew that this fairy get-up was not his daughter’s idea at all. Not. Even. Close.

Emma really wanted to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. I know what you are thinking – didn’t Michelangelo, Donatello and the rest of the Renaissance named reptiles go out with bang circa 97’ along with Bananas In Pajamas Figure Sets? I thought so too, but these sewer dwellers are back with a vengeance and can be seen on Saturday mornings following everyone’s favorite yellow sponge. The commercials for the Ninja Turtles are relentless, bordering on a brainwashing level of intensity and somehow my sweet and dainty daughter was attracted from her very first glimpse. After the fifth or six commercial Emma had made her mind up, and although it was only mid September and the word Halloween hadn’t been uttered by a soul, she announced her costume idea. She wanted to be a Ninja Turtle. She said it would be ‘totally awesome’. [Read more...]

The Book of Love

My daughter, who is 7, has recently morphed into a rampaging mood-swing monster. She’s always had slight drama queen tendencies (and I have no idea where she gets those) but her new levels of highs and lows can set me trembling at the thought of her actual teenage years still to come.

Luckily, for me, some of that passion gets funneled into a desperate devotion to her mommy. She loves me, she needs me, she simply must have me all to herself. She’s like my own little Endless Love stalker. I just hope she doesn’t set the house on fire. Dad, on the other hand, is treated like a loathsome intruder, allowed to stay only for his skill in making homemade chicken nuggets.

Last week, she found a new outlet for her mommylove. She started writing a book about me. More of a little journal, really, capturing her impressions of me, complete with illustrations!

It’s thrilling, I admit, to have my biography underway; though as she ran through her initial ideas and then started asking me more about myself to trigger new entries, I found myself slightly chagrined at how few ‘interesting’ things I could come up with. Might be time to take up kickboxing or get into a shouting match with our loud-mouthed governor to give her some good material.

For now, I invite you to enjoy a few of my favorite pages so far …

She has black hair. p.s. and a little bit of white

and lots of lotion She is funny

She has a girl and boy children / She has a good/bad husband

She can save you! She’s in love with Johnny Depp

She likes to take pictures of food.

She can get back together with you (I’m sorry. It’s OK.)  / She is almost awesome.

Love the way this kid expresses her wild little self. And love the way she loves me … no matter how she spells it.

This is an original JerseyMomsBlog post. Deanna Q is a freelance writer and mother of two fantastic little beings

Child Nurse

My daughter was born in December 2006. In August 2007 I was officially diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Since she was a baby, she has come with me to all my neurologist visits (at least every 6 months), has come to various fundraising walks/bikes with my always growing team, and knows the days when Mommy is just not 100%. I pride myself on the fact that I take good care of myself. Of course my whole family is my driving force, but the emphasis on it is my daughter. Of course there are some off-days. For instance, on days when fatigue is hitting me hard, she tells me to lay down and rest. Once a month she’ll hang out with her uncle, aunt, grandma, etc, when I go to the hospital to get my infusion. When I get home she’ll see the bandage on my arm and ask me if my boo-boo is ok. (Side note: my “boo-boo” has always been ok. Never had any side effects from the medication.) I sometimes feel bad because she doesn’t totally know what’s going on with me, but on the other hand she doesn’t know any different.

[Read more...]

Without Traffic, 55 Minutes

Midway through my first pregnancy, my obgyn announced she would be closing her practice in New Jersey and moving out west.  Lucky for me, her closing date fell just shortly after my due date.  At my 40-week visit and with just five days left before the close of her practice, we weighed our options on how to proceed with my fickle “cherub.”  At my 34-week mark, my cherub decided she wanted to appear early and sent my husband and I into a panic.  She never arrived and I was sent home.  Apparently the cherub was just testing our response time.  But I digress.

It was during this 40-week visit, that my obgyn and I shared a conversation that still resonates in my head.

With her cross-country move just days away, we talked about the city she was moving to and the practice she would be joining.  With malpractice insurance so much more affordable everywhere other than New Jersey and the breathtaking landscape that surrounded the new city she would call home, you couldn’t help but feel her excitement and joy. I mused at how I would love to pick up and move somewhere completely foreign to me.  To this she responded with the following:  “You are a jersey girl.  Most of you may leave for college, but in the end you return and never leave.”  She had an interesting point.  With legs akimbo, I mentally ran through the list of all my family and friends.  She was right.  Most of us did, in fact, leave for college only to return and start our families back in good ole New Jersey.

After some thought, I explained to her, “But it’s Jersey.  Without traffic everything is 55 minutes maybe 65 minutes away, tops!  Why leave?”    To this she laughed and agreed. [Read more...]

Spare Me the Drama

These days it seems I live in a hot house of never-ending upheaval. Maintaining my composure, not to mention enough focus to get any work done, is a daily struggle. Yes, I set my daughter up for an exciting summer of different camp programs. And, while she comes home every day sweaty and smiling, she still has energy to give her mom a lot of sass.

Stress and strain at home have made her prickly, and I have to remember to be gentle (but firm) with her. Meanwhile, it has been more than a year since my mother was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. She is doing much better these days, but the doctor’ still won’t let her stop getting chemo. Understandably emotional and sometimes sick, she thinks they may keep her on chemo for the rest of her life. Since she lives downstairs from me, I am often on call to take her to doctor’s visits. Somehow, leaving Jersey to drive through the Lincoln Tunnel in the middle of the day tends to take a bite out of my work day, you know?  It’s also a bit distracting to be in the home office working on a deadline and be interrupted by a call from mom, who needs me to come downstairs and disconnect her chemo pump (which entails, in part, pulling two needles out of her chest.)

Then there is my sister, who is severely disabled from a car wreck she was in years ago. When the heat wave hit, my sister (who has a small apartment in upstate New York and nearly round-the-clock caretakers) did not have an air conditioner. I had to intervene and make sure she got one; everyone was worried about her paying the electricity bill. I was worried about her dissolving into a puddle of sweat. [Read more...]