Anna Kate Donovan

All my 3 year old had to do was tell me she was sorry.  That’s it.  I’m sorry.  Two little words.  So why did it take half an hour?

Laura was sitting on her bed crying because she didn’t want to be in trouble.  We explained that if she said she was sorry, she wouldn’t be in trouble anymore.  Apparently that wasn’t convincing.

Laura is learning to control her anger.  As in – it is okay to be angry, upset, frustrated, what have you.  It is NOT okay to hit, bite, kick, lock yourself in your room, scream or throw things.  It is also a requirement to apologize when necessary.  Pretty simple from an adult perspective.  Not so simple when you’re three.  I know this.  I don’t understand her confusion but I know that it is there.  The moment when Laura “gets” this concept is on the horizon.  Robert and I have survived this phase twice before.  We just have to be consistent and patient.  Waiting 30 minutes for a pitiful “I’m sorry” is just part of the deal.

So why is it so hard to say that you’re sorry?  Is it fear of the other person’s reaction?  Is it because it is an admission of wrongdoing?  I think the latter is probably more realistic.  Nowadays, most people spend their youth learning in school.  Then they spend the rest of their career proving what all they know.  It would make sense that as we get older and more experienced it would be more difficult to admit a wrong.  That obviously doesn’t apply to Laura.  She hasn’t even been to kindergarten yet!

A few hours ago, after an excruciating wait, Laura finally uttered those two magic words and was allowed out of time out.  It is over and forgotten.  She is now asleep and if you peek at her precious face you would swear she’s an angel.  She is.  Maybe I’m biased.  Sorry!

Were any of you driving on I-20 just outside of Atlanta Monday night around 6?  Did you happen to see a woman pulled over to the side of the road throwing up behind her van?  THAT WAS ME.  Yuck.

I was on my way from Birmingham to Anderson with 2 of my 3 girls.  I was going to pick up my middle child who had been in Atlanta with my in-laws for a little one on one time.  Everything was going along great.  We had just wrapped up a wonderful weekend with family in Birmingham and it was time to get back home and back to the daily grind.  Tooling down the interstate, I was mentally planning my week and then it hit me.  BAM!  A kidney stone was on the move.  I have had kidney stones for about 8 years now so I knew exactly what was going on.  It is a pain like no other.  The pain is so acute and so intense, it could level a lumberjack without breaking a sweat.  Labor can’t even throw a rock at kidney stone pain.  Trust me – I speak from experience.  Unfortunately I was in the middle of traffic on the interstate with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.  All of my tricks for easing the pain were no good behind the wheel.  Robert was not with me so I didn’t have anyone else to drive.

Someone, however,  was watching out for me.  I managed to make it safely to the hotel where my in-laws were.  I dropped off the girls and the dog (did I mention that I had the dog?) with my father-in-law.  I climbed in the car with my mother-in-law and we headed for the ER.  By the time we got there I was crawling on the floor begging every pair of feet I encountered for morphine.  Of course, the ER was FULL.  Packed to the brim with miserable people waiting to hear their name called.  I’m sure I scared my mother-in-law to death.  I am usually a strong person.  I can usually keep a level head.  Kidney stones reduce me to a shaky moaning heap of a person.

Six hours later, an angel of mercy finally arrived.  My angel was named Jenny.  I swear she was glowing like the Madonna in a stained glass window.  She was carrying a smile in a syringe and relieved my agony in a matter of seconds.   She had been the only triage nurse on duty for over 10 hours.  She had gotten to me as soon as she possibly could.  The people in charge of budget cuts should be forced to spend a shift in her shoes.  They’d never cut money from the nursing staff budget again.  Enough on the soapbox….

The point is that we all survived the ordeal.  My girls and I are back home and I am waiting for this stone to pass.  I have everything I need to get through the next phase.  My parents are here with me for a few days because Robert is out of town on business (these things ALWAYS happen when he’s out of town) and I have a bottle of relief if I need it.  I am supposed to rest and take it easy over the next couple of days.  Do you know how hard that is for me?  Tres difficile!

It is all a brutal reminder that no matter how much I organize, clean and plan, I am not in charge.  Kidney stones or not, we must all admit that, in the grand scheme of things, we are not in charge.  We need someone to look out for us.  We need angels of mercy.  We cannot do this dance of life alone.  We are mere mortals and despite what we humans think, we do NOT know everything.

PS – To Jenny – I will forever love you and I am forever in your debt.  If you suffer from kidney stones, you know why I love this woman.  It’s not weird, it’s just common sense!

Yes, my friends, as most of you now know, my beloved University of Alabama Crimson Tide stomped Texas in a 37-21 victory to win the BCS National Championship last night!  Woo hoo!

I finally turned off the television after the game a little after midnight and went to bed.  Forty five minutes later I was still awake – too excited about the win to sleep.

In my usual fashion, I got the girls off to school this morning and began to question my feelings from the night before.  Why did a football game keep me awake into the wee hours of the morning?  Why do I care so much about this team?  Why do I get so excited about football?  I couldn’t throw a football to the other side of my yard if you paid me.  What gives?

The answer requires a quick trip back to high school so indulge me, if you please.  I went to a very small high school.  There were 48 students in my graduating class.  We did not have a football team.  We had basketball, volleyball, track, soccer, tennis, baseball, etc….but no football.  My parents are not big football fans and even though I went to a couple of games in my youth, we were not a family who watched football or cared much about what was going on in the sport.

Then I went to college at Alabama.  My first year, I got student tickets and went to the first football game by myself.  From the moment the team came on the field and I heard the roar of the crowd for the first time, I was hooked.  It was the coolest thing I had ever experienced.  I had to know everything about what was going on.  I was completely lost in the excitement of the crowd.  It was intoxicating.  Every home game, I was early to the stadium and late to leave – I couldn’t miss a minute.  Homecoming came around and I ended up going to all the events alone.  (Alone because of a boyfriend that turned out to be a turd so let’s not go there, okay?)  I was mesmerized.  I can’t explain how in awe I was.  It was fabulous.  Four years of being a student and a life-long love of the University had taken root and a passionate football fan was born.

What school you support, if any, really doesn’t matter to me.  I’m not going out of my way to say something if you cheer for a different team than I do.  Unless you are my sister-in-law or her dad.  They are the most fiercely competitive people I know.  But that’s beside the point.

What is my point, exactly?  I guess I don’t have one.  I was so excited about the Championship I just had to write about it.  This was our year and it was wonderful to experience as a fan.  Next year, who knows.  I’m sure there are plenty of people talking about it already.  It’s a clean slate.  For now, Roll Tide my fellow Alabama fans!  Enjoy the victory!

…but she makes me feel like a toad.

I saw He’s Just Not That Into You during nap time today.  It’s a cute chick flick.  I was happily watching along when the character played by Ms. Johansson was swept off her feet onto the desk of her “friend”.  Much flesh and canoodling followed.  It was then that I looked down.  I was in the middle of ironing little corduroy dresses and the tops that match.  I was in my sweatpants.

Let me take a little side trip here.  I am not the type of person who gets all dressed up if I’m not leaving the house.  I don’t see the point.  I spend too much of my time at home cleaning up or working on sewing or craft projects to be dressed in nice clothes.  If it’s a day when everyone is at school and I’m out running errands I will put in the effort to wear a cute outfit with accessories and all of that.  I like it this way.  My husband could care less.  I’d rather be comfortable.

Also, I am not the type of person to turn myself into something I’m not.  I do not want to be Scarlett Johansson.  I have nothing against her but I have no desire for blond hair, implants and the facial surgery required to make me look like her.  I do have issues with my body.  I’m pretty sure most of us do.  I am working on those issues.  I try not to spend a lot of time dwelling on it.  I want to set a good example for my daughters who have the disadvantage of growing up in this media crazed world.  I’m confident in myself and in my marriage.  (I should be – you should try sending your thirty-something handsome husband back to college where 19 year old girls are barely dressed at all!  Whew!)

All of that being said, at the moment I looked down at my ironing board and sweats, I felt quite toady.

As I have written many times before, I am a lucky woman.  My family and my true friends love me just the way I am.  Even though he has seen me at my absolute worst, my husband makes me feel beautiful every day.  Still…..

….ribbit…..

…for a new year?

I realize that a lot of my blog posts have become a soliloquy of ‘what does ____ mean to Anna Kate’.  Just an observation…let the soliloquy begin!

I’m not a big New Year’s resolution maker.  I do take a few moments to consider ways to better myself in the new year but I don’t make a poster and tape it to the fridge.  I don’t feel the need.  Plus, when I’m having one of those days (I’m sure you’ve all had one of those days) I don’t need a written reminder to sink me lower in the funk.  I also take a little mental trip through the soon-to-be-over year to remember both the highs and lows.  It’s my own way of staying grounded.  Whether the year is coming to a close on a high note or one a bit lower, it’s good to be reminded that things always seem to even out.

I have come to think of January 1st as a fresh start.  A chance to do things differently if need be.  A time to let go of any leftover “stuff” from last year…physical or mental.  As an adult, I have gotten to the point where I like to clean out after Christmas.  The devil’s advocate in my brain is asking me if I’ve looked at my sweater stack lately!  Ten years ago I might have shoved more into the drawer or closet but I’ve discovered the satisfaction of clearing out the unnecessary things I accumulate.  Watching Hoarders doesn’t hurt either.  (I’ve never been close to being a hoarder but this show will scare you into minimalism in a heartbeat!)  Other “stuff” is mental and emotional.  That is harder for me.  I am usually able to get over things quickly but my memory is elephantine.  I don’t forget what was said, actions that were taken, feelings that were felt.  Those things tend to stockpile in my mental closet, sometimes without my knowledge.  Luckily, I have recently acquired the ability to brush away those cobwebs and make room for happy thoughts.  I’ll toast to that!

Overall, it’s a good time of year for reflection, hope and happiness.  Whether you choose to make a list of resolutions, eat Hoppin’ John or party like it’s 1999, here’s to a great 2010!

…and it’s over in the blink of an eye.  I’m speaking of Christmas morning, of course!

For whatever reason, I have never been able to sleep on Christmas Eve.  I’m pretty sure I get it from my Dad.  He’s the same way.  It’s especially interesting since both of us can fall asleep at any time under almost any circumstances.  But somehow the excitement of Christmas is enough to keep our weary eyes open.  This year, I discovered that I have passed this trait along to my oldest daughter.  She went to bed and fell asleep with no problem.  At midnight when Hattie (the middle child) woke up, Abigail was roused.  Hattie was able to go back to sleep but Abigail was AWAKE.  She spent the next 5 and a half hours laying next to me in our bed sighing and moaning and asking if it was time yet.  The only one who slept through the night was Laura, the 3 year old.  She NEVER sleeps through the night.

I guess Christmas will do that.  It’s such a wondrous time for everyone.  Just so you know, I’m not talking about presents here.  Those are a bonus.  There is so much more.  The family traditions are my favorite.  The time we spend together as a family not because we have to but because we want to.  I realize that the Christmas traditions are probably similar in many families but it’s spending time with our own families that is the icing on the cake.  We wear pajamas and drive around to see lights one night.  We attend Christmas parties and programs.  We even hosted a party this year.  We pick out and decorate our tree together.  Robert and I watch Christmas Vacation.  We have an Elf on the Shelf and send letters to Santa.  We watch all the Christmas movies and annual specials.  We read The Night Before Christmas and leave out goodies for Santa.

One thing different for us this year is that we are not going to be with our extended families on Christmas day.  We are now 5 hours from them and it’s getting more and more difficult to move Christmas.  Instead we are going to be with them in a few days.  It’s the best decision for our little pod of five but we will miss it all the same.

To me, the best part of all is the wonder.  I don’t know what it is but there is a feeling of magic this time of year.  Maybe it is the belief in something bigger than we are.  Maybe it is being reminded of the love we share for each other.  Whatever it is for you, whether it be the celebration of a baby’s birth long ago or a first Christmas together, I hope that you have a wonderful holiday season.

After almost 12.5 years, I have finally done it.  I broke one of my china plates.  Ugh.

When this happened, I was washing plates after a successful neighborhood Christmas party.  One plate slipped out of my hand and crashed into the sink, breaking the plate it smashed into.  It was merely a bread and butter plate but it still made me sick to my stomach.

I stood there feeling sorry for myself and then it dawned on me.  I was really upset about the demise of this plate.  Why on earth would it be a loss of any sort?  After all it is ONLY a plate.  A mere object.  In the days since the “incident”, I have wondered and thought about the importance of said plate.

Part of it is a sense of pride.  We have schlepped our china, crystal and silver to three states in the southeast without incident.  We have packed and unpacked and packed and unpacked again.  We have not used them as much as we should have but we have used them some.  Regardless, I was always satisfied after each meal and move that nothing from this precious collection had been damaged.

After more consideration, I realized why these silly things are of such an importance to me.  They symbolize the beginning of my marriage.  Really?

When Robert and I were engaged, we went to Bromberg’s to register for china, silver and crystal.  For those of you who are not familiar with Birmingham, AL, Bromberg’s is a family owned jewelry and china store that has been around for decades.  Many people register there when they get engaged.  For some, it is a rite of passage.  Receiving one of their signature silver boxes with the beautiful ribbon is almost as good as a box in Tiffany blue.  Anyway, Robert and I stood in Bromberg’s facing a wall of china that bordered on intimidating.  After a few minutes of silence, Robert said “there’s only one up there that I like.”  I agreed completely and I would have said the same thing if he hadn’t spoken first.  We had the same experience with the silver and crystal.  It felt like a sign.  The patterns we chose were not the favorites of most couples at the time.  They were not the “in” patterns to choose.  They are simple, elegant and beautiful.  They were perfect for us then and still are.

Once we had signed up for what we had chosen, I started to look around the store at the other brides who were there to register.  Most of them were with their mother.  Only one other groom was there and he looked like he’d rather be having oral surgery.  His fiance had also brought her mother and the two women were picking out everything while the poor groom was counting tiles in the ceiling.  Was I the only one who wanted to experience this with my fiance?  Was he the only one who felt the same?  Did no other couples enjoy doing these things together?  I was astounded and awash with gratitude.  Robert seemed to pick up on all of this.  He gets me.

So, call me what you want.  A sap, overly sentimental, whatever.  It doesn’t matter to me.  The broken plate is not a sign of anything anymore.  We have weathered many storms in our time together and I’m sure there are many more to come.  We have always emerged stronger and surer of our love for each other.  One little bread and butter plate is not even a blip on the screen, nor should it be.  But I’m sure I’ll be more careful washing in the future!

I haven’t written anything in a while.  Sorry about that.  We were so busy moving and then I realized that I didn’t have anything I wanted to write about.  Guess the muse has returned.  Here goes….

Today is my birthday.  My 34th birthday to be exact.  Some people would rather have a root canal than reveal their real age but I couldn’t care less.  It has never bothered me and I’m guessing that it never will.  Truth is, I don’t feel much different than I did at 24 (except for the 3 little girls in tow of course!).  Maybe a little calmer.  A little more tired.  A tiny bit wiser.  But altogether not that different.  I still get carded buying alcohol.  A few months before we left Auburn I was in the Kroger buying some beer for Robert.  The cashier gave me a look like “I know what fake IDs look like and you’re not getting past me.”  After carefully examining my license she turned red, apologized and called me “Ma’am.”  But I digress…

Among all the birthday wishes, several people have asked if I’m doing anything exciting to celebrate.  I’m really not.  Robert is bringing home some steaks to grill, I made a chocolate souffle for dessert and there is a new episode of The Office coming on TV.  Sounds like the perfect evening to me.  I love getting dressed up and going out for a fancy dinner but in all honesty, that’s not a requirement for me to enjoy my birthday.  I would rather have pictures drawn by my children and extra hugs and kisses.  I have one friend who was determined to have 24 hours away from her children for her birthday.  She was so stressed out and exhausted from planning, packing and organizing that she didn’t get to fully enjoy her 24 hours.  I have another friend who checked into a swanky hotel overnight.  Unfortunately she overindulged at the mini bar and suffered the rest of the weekend.  Guess their plans didn’t turn out exactly right!  Not that I wouldn’t enjoy some time away, it’s just not necessary in order to have a successful birthday.  I’m not one of those people who is going to sit on the sofa and eat bonbons for my birthday or Mother’s Day and refuse to lift a finger.  (I don’t even know anyone who really eats bonbons on the chaise but it is the expression that came to mind!)  Life continues whether you like it or not!

Having just moved to a new state, Robert and I are still finding our way around.  We are on the lookout for a good babysitter so that when we have the chance we can go out to dinner and maybe even a movie.  We’ll sit a little closer and talk a little softer and smile a lot more.  The topic of conversation will wander and dance and eventually return to our children as it always does.  We will come back home feeling reconnected and reminded of our love for each other.  I know that is important to do in a marriage.  I also know that we will have the same result sitting on our sofa in front of the fireplace once the girls are in bed.  It doesn’t take much!

I am very fortunate for the life that I have and am especially aware of that this year.  I am so lucky to have a husband who loves me just the way I am.  I am the mother of 3 smart, sweet and beautiful daughters.  I have a supportive and loving family.  What else could a girl ask for?

In the last 3 weeks, our life has turned around 180 degrees.  Rewind one month.  We were desperately hoping for a job offer and feeling like we were in the dark about our future.  Fast forward to today.  We now have a job, a rental house, a school district and most importantly, a plan!

The job search was exhausting.  The stress and worry was always there in the back of our minds wreaking havoc on our sleep patterns.  You try not to let it affect your life and your relationships but that is near impossible.  At least for us.

But I digress.  We are quickly settling into our new life.  Work is good.  School is good.  The house is good.

Basically, life is good!  We thank all of our family and friends for their love and support.  We couldn’t have done it without you.

How is it that an activity as effortless as waiting can be so exhausting?

I am currently waiting for Robert to call and report on his day-long interview.  I have almost worn a hole in the carpet from pacing.  I can’t focus on anything else.  I have plenty of other things I need to be doing but I can’t get my mind to switch off of the topic at hand.  But it’s not just this.  Any kind of waiting can be tedious.  Waiting for the phone to ring, the baby to arrive, a ride, test results, the doctor, the end of a meeting…

I think you get my point.  I know that we are currently dealing with a generation of young people who are accustomed to instant gratification.  Technology is a wonderful thing but I think it has depleted the already scarce patience in many people.  Emailing and texting are instant links to most anyone.  Type an address into your GPS and you instantly have the easiest and quickest way to get anywhere.  Order something online, pay extra for overnight shipping and almost any product will be at your door in less than 24 hours. I don’t find waiting for that perfect sweater or pizza to show up particularly difficult, but waiting for the bigger things in life can border on torture.

Robert and I have been together more than 14 years.  We are about as close to sharing a brain as you can get.  Unfortunately, we are professional “what if” players.  You give us any situation that includes waiting and we will “what if” it to death.  It is ridiculous.  We have finally admitted that this is a problem and we are able to stop each other before it gets too out of hand.  Need an example?  This job search has been full of difficult waiting and what-iffing.  When will he/she call back?  What if they heard something negative about Robert?  What if they don’t think he’s a good fit?  What if they are just pumping him for information?  What if no one calls?  What if?  What if?  WHAT IF???  Whew….I need to relax….

The girls and I had dinner at a friend’s house last night and after supper we went outside to throw the ball for her two precious dogs.  They were beside themselves.  They had both been so well behaved the entire evening but as soon as they heard the word “ball” they could not wait any more.  They couldn’t get out the door, down the steps and into the yard fast enough.  I didn’t think anything about it until this blog article started to form in my head.  Even these cool canines were beside themselves when they had to wait a mere moment for something that is very important to them.  Sound familiar?

My whole point is that I have spent most of my day wandering around the house waiting and playing “what if” and I am completely drained.  Exhausted.  Worn out.  Stressed to my limit.  Somebody get me some chocolate…