Category Archives: Crissie Miller Kirby

Failure! Failure?

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

I loathe the word failure.  By nature, for me, “failure is not an option.” So, as I paused to reflect on 2012 and those resolutions I made, and posted here for the world to see, I had to determine whether they had been a lesson in torture or triumph.

First, I took a few minutes to actually reread the post, not quite remembering what I written.  I had resolved to be healthier, be more organized, and to stop being ashamed of my failed marriage.

When I started thinking about those items, I first thought, “Oh, great Crissie ~ you FAILED!  Miserably!”

But, then again, did I?

Okay, I will be honest ~ when it comes to being healthier, I did not do well, at all.  I rarely got to the gym and my self-imposed ban on sweet tea and soda, well, it fell by the wayside.  So, I’m trying again.  “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”  Tonight the boys start a karate class and I will start kickboxing.  Yes, I promise, I will keep you posted on how that goes.

In regards to more organization; honestly, I didn’t do as well here either.  But, when I got down to the nitty gritty, I didn’t totally fail.  It has taken me 34 years to really realize that, while I am a pack rat and a hoarder by nature, that I CAN break the cycle and I CAN get rid of things.  To that end, I have thrown away more things this past year.  I have not stored as much stuff or held on to things that are, really, meaningless.  I’ve realized that being more organized is a process, which, after spending 34 years collecting “stuff,” is going to take time. So, I’m going to give myself a little pat on the back for this area because at least I have started and I believe, in the end, I will succeed.

Now, to the area where I think I have made the most progress and had the most success.

Essentially, my goal was to stop being ashamed of the fact that I am divorced.  I AM DIVORCED.  I am divorced.  Divorced.  Single.  But, I am not dead, and it is time to hold my head high.  And, I think that I did accomplish this goal from 2012.  Sure, I hate being divorced, but not because I desire my “old” life back; I hate being divorced because I still don’t like divorce in general.  But, I have taken comfort in knowing that in my own situation it was a last resort, and it is not the end of the world, and I am still alive and well.

I can honestly say that I feel like I came alive in 2012.  I lived life to the fullest.  I started going to church more often, when I was home (the boys and I traveled to the coast a lot this past summer).  I had shied away from church activities because in some ways, I didn’t feel as if I belonged anymore.  But, I do belong.  My children belong.

And, I’ve started dating again, somewhat, in small baby steps.  But, that is not an area that needs to or will be rushed.  I’m in no huge hurry to be married again, although some day, I would like that, simply because I enjoyed being married, but not because I HAVE to be married.

Now, I look back at 2012 as a lesson.  A lesson in life.  A lesson in areas that need a little work and areas that just need to keep going at the pace at which they are moving already.

2012 was NOT a failure.

Our 2012 Blogging Year in Review!

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As we move into 2013, we thought it only appropriate to take a look back at 2012 and share with you some of the data from our year in blogging.  (If you click on any of the images below, you will get an enlarged view.)  Thanks to all of our readers for helping to make the Every Woman Blog a success!  And a special thanks to our amazing bloggers who truly bring this blog to life and share their lives with us!

We hope you enjoy taking a look back at 2012 with us :)

Your 2012 year in bloggingYour 2012 year in blogging-1Your 2012 year in blogging-2Your 2012 year in blogging-3Your 2012 year in blogging-4

The Great Santa Debate

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

Yes, you guessed it, I have uncovered yet another article that has led me to a blog posting that I really think almost any of my Every Woman blogger cohorts could write. Even if you don’t have kids, you have an opinion about whether little kids should believe in Santa Claus or not.

I’ll be honest with you, I don’t even remember how old I was when I realized that Santa Claus’ boots were really filled by my mom and dad. There was the year that I got a bicycle: I remember sneaking to the den only to find the doors closed and voices coming from behind. I think that “Santa” was probably saying some choice words over that Strawberry Shortcake bicycle that night! As we got older, my brother and I would actually go on hunts to find our Christmas gifts after we knew our parents had gone shopping. Instead of disappointment, it almost became a game; to see if we could find them, and to (secretly) make fun of their lame hiding places. The big, huge, flat box under my parent’s bed was a dead giveaway that a ping pong table would be standing beside the Christmas tree. There were the oddly shaped items covered with quilts in my parent’s closet. Surely, they didn’t think that we honestly believed that the quilts and afghans stood up by themselves. Then there was the year I asked for a telephone for my bedroom. Ah, yes, then came the day my mom asked me to clean up the living room where she had been wrapping Christmas gifts. And there, on the floor, was the receipt for a telephone, and we certainly didn’t have any new ones in the house at that point. The gig was definitely up at that point. When questioned, my mama said I shouldn’t have been so nosey. Really? She left the receipt on the floor!

Those are actually fond, fun memories for me- not earth shattering news that has me in therapy in my mid-thirties! It actually meant the world to me that my parents always paid attention to what I truly wanted and that most of the time it was there, under the tree. Although, I’m still a little scarred over never having gotten that pony. In all seriousness, I learned some valuable lessons watching my parents on those Christmas mornings of my childhood. My dad, who is the least outright affectionate man on the earth, always, gave my mom some beautiful piece of jewelry or beautiful outfits that he knew she would love. And it went beyond just the gift itself; often the fun part was watching her receive the gift. There was the year he wrapped a ring in a microwave box (please remember this was the 80’s, so this box was enormous), and there were magazines and even a brick or two inside the box. There were multiple wrapped boxes inside each other until she got down to the tiny ring box. From those early Christmas mornings, I learned to pay attention to what people liked and disliked and I learned how special it made them feel to receive something that so much careful consideration had been given to.

My point in writing this is that there are so many who think that allowing children to believe in Santa Claus is harmful, in some way, to them. I wholeheartedly disagree. I will not take the credit for the following, as it was something I found on Pinterest, that fully echoes the sentiment of those of us who truly believe that children can learn valuable lessons from Santa, not just selfishness and greed.

“Dear Ryan, You asked a really good question, “Are Mom and Dad really Santa?” We know that you want to know the answer, and we had to give it careful thought to know just what to say. The answer is No. We are not Santa. There is no single Santa. We are the people who fill you stocking and choose and wrap the presents under the tree – just as our parents did for us, their parents did for them, and you will do for your kids someday. This could never make any of us Santa, though. Santa is lots and lots of people who keep the Spirit of Christmas alive. He lives in our hearts – not at the North Pole. Santa is the magic and love and spirit of giving to others. What he does is teach children to believe in something they cannot see or touch. Throughout your life you will need this capacity to believe: in yourself, in your family, in your friends, and in God.”

This explains perfectly why the belief in Santa is not necessarily bad and why my children will continue to believe for a while yet, I do hope anyway. I am not ready to see an end to the magic.

Why?

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

I felt his presence before I saw him. Even though my children and I were safely locked in our car, I knew he was there. The county deputy was walking up and down the sidewalk in front of my children’s school.

Without question, I knew why he was there. It was the Monday following the tragedy that had befallen Newtown, CT and our school was sending the quiet message that the safety of our school’s faculty, staff and, most importantly, children was of the utmost importance, and that we would do anything we needed to in order to protect our quiet corner of the state.

But, I cannot lie; the deputy’s presence unnerved me. It rocked me to my core because it meant that we all had to accept that something like the tragedy in Connecticut could happen in rural South Carolina. It forced us all to admit that while that disturbed young man was stealing the lives of all of those innocent children and adults, he was also attempting to steal the perceived safety that many of us have had each and every day when we send our children off to school.

To try and make sense of the violence is futile; here can be no true rhyme or reason. Even if we get some answer, what difference does it truly make? None, for no other reason than no answer and no reason will EVER bring those innocent lives back. And there is no reason under the sun that can explain away those lives. Still, we want to ask “why?”

I cannot imagine the pain and feelings of loss that those parents and loved ones feel. My oldest son recently turned 7 years old, the same age as many of the victims. As I sit here less than a week before Christmas, my life is filled with questions about what the boys are getting for Christmas. What is Santa bringing them? What have they asked for? I smile when I give the answers, thinking already of the smiles and laughter that will come on Christmas morning when my boys see what all Santa has brought. The Newtown parents, I am quite sure, have been planning the same. Now, instead of laughter and smiles and plans of setting out those special toys on Christmas Eve, they are planning funerals.

Again, I cannot imagine. I don’t want to imagine. And even though I know that there is no good answer and no good reason, I just want to ask “why?” Why, especially, target the precious faces and smiles of young children? And, again, I know that there is no answer sufficient.

So, last night, as in each of the nights before, I have allowed my boys to sleep with me. If nothing else, it gives me a sense of security in knowing that we are all together and maybe I can protect them. It reminds me to be thankful, each day, of these beautiful little blessings God has bestowed upon me.

In closing, I leave you with the beautiful words and voice of Josh Groban singing “Thankful.”

Good Grief

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

As you will see from my late night ramblings about Christmas being shoved down our throats before Halloween, I tend to unearth some interesting articles. I have found yet another interesting article to share with you – “Are Charlie Brown and the Peanuts Gang too mean for today’s kids?” Seriously? The article goes on to talk about the “stupid,” “dumb,” “blockhead,” monikers bestowed on some of the characters, mostly Charlie, and how that may be setting a bad example for the children of today.

First of all, let’s face the facts here: it is a CARTOON people. Getting worked up over a time-honored classic basically says that we are out of focus in today’s society. Instead of using the television as a teacher or a babysitter, we could use it as a jumping off point. Why not use those words in that cartoon to teach a lesson about how hurtful those words can be?

Also, think about what Charlie Brown does in his cartoons. He gets a little down, a little crestfallen, but he ultimately perseveres. He doesn’t let those words make him lash out in anger or pull an oozie on someone. He is who he is, and he doesn’t let the ridicule slow him down or define him.

Another great example is found in Finding Nemo. As you all know, I have two boys under the age of 7, and this was Pierce’s favorite movie before he turned 2 years old. Our copy of Nemo often goes missing because I WANT it to go missing. Why? Anyone recall the moment right after Marlin tells Nemo that he can’t swim out to sea?? What is Nemo’s response? “I hate you!”

Ouch!

So how did I handle that? Did I banish my children from watching it? Umm, NO. What did I do? Yep, you guessed it. This mom took those three words and used them as a chance to have talks with my boys about how mean and disrespectful it is to say that to someone, especially to a parent.

Honestly, I have more heart palpitations over the fact that Max and Ruby appear to have no parents yet appear to live alone, ride on the bus alone, and go shopping alone. Anyone else think about the absurdities of Dora and Diego? Diego is eight, yet, he drives? What about Spongebob and Patrick and all of the real weirdness that resides in Bikini Bottom?

The article also goes on to say that there is nothing good in the Charlie Brown cartoons for today’s children. Again, seriously?

First of all, as a believer in Christ, I LOVE the fact that my children can still watch a cartoon that was aired on television that references what the true meaning of Christmas is and delivers quotations from the Bible. I still get goosebumps every time I hear the innocent, sweet voice of Linus deliver his monologue of the Birth of Christ. Secondly, Charlie picks out what we all deem to be the ugliest tree on the lot. However, after all of the children come together to work on it, it turns into a beautiful tree and Charlie, himself, is wished a “Merry Christmas” by all of the other children who typically torment him. How does that fit in to your head about giving people a chance and changing attitudes and perceptions?

Thanks, I think I’ll keep letting the boys watch, and learn, from good ole Charlie Brown.

Miscarriage

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

I will never, ever forget that day – Friday, March 16, 2007.  I was 11 weeks pregnant with my 2nd child and scheduled for a routine ultrasound.  My nerves were a wreck.  My husband had been away for 3 weeks working a shift of border patrol for the SC National Guard, and I had experienced some spotting during that time.  It was nothing major and the midwife had assured me that if it stopped on its own that everything was most likely fine, but we would make sure when I came in for my appointment on the 16th.

The nurse came to the door and said that my doctor was running late after his shift at the hospital; I could either reschedule my appointment or wait.  I immediately said that I wanted to wait because I’d been having some issues and wanted to make sure that everything was okay.

When he arrived, we went back in the exam room and my OB started the ultrasound.  At 11 weeks, we should have been able to see some sign of the baby, but couldn’t.  He switched from the external ultrasound to the vaginal ultrasound, thinking maybe my dates were wrong and I wasn’t as far along as we had originally suspected.  However, our fears were realized when he said that while the gestational sac was present, there was no baby; it had not developed.  Tears flooded my eyes.  I was heartbroken.  I was devastated.

My OB-GYN and his staff were absolutely wonderful.  They hugged me and offered their condolences and words of consolation and prayers.  The decision about how to proceed was left to us; we could wait for my body to realize that there was no baby to support and it would begin the miscarriage process on its own or I could schedule a D&C.  The uncertainty of when that might happen, combined with the fact that Pierce was only 15 months old caused us to schedule a D&C for the following Monday.

We left the doctor’s office in tears and headed back to my office.  I couldn’t face anyone right then, so my husband went in to tell my co-workers what had taken place and that I would not be back that day.  We went home and made the phone calls to our immediate families and our closest friends.

I just didn’t understand why or how this had happened.  I had had such an easy pregnancy with Pierce; I was, literally, the woman other women loved to hate.  I never had morning sickness, no spotting, no swelling, and minimal weight gain.  Pregnancy had been so easy for me – how could I now be on the cusp of miscarrying?  I blamed myself.  Surely I had done something that had caused this situation.  I thought that maybe even God was punishing me for things I had done in my past.

That weekend I experienced the worst physical and emotional pain of my life.  Emotionally, I was drained, devastated, and just wanted to get everything over with and get back to “normal.”  Physically, my body began to miscarry and I wound up in the Emergency Room.  Monday morning came and I underwent the D&C.  God bless my doctor, the nurses, the anesthesiologist and the nurse anesthetist; they did everything to make me comfortable, put my mind at ease, and to keep me from getting sick after surgery.

The partial ending of this story is that about 5-6 months after my miscarriage, I became pregnant with my precious Smith and my pregnancy with him was, like my pregnancy with Pierce, pretty easy and enjoyable.  Other than the initial concerns, until we heard his heart beat, and saw him growing well in utero, it was a great pregnancy.  Unfortunately, my miscarriage also had a profound negative effect on my marriage and less than 4 years later, I would be divorced.

I share my story with you because as women we all know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but did you also know that October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day?  Too often, we neglect pregnancy and infant loss, because we are uncomfortable with it – we don’t know what to say.  The truth of the matter is, pregnancy and infant loss is just like the death of someone else that you dearly loved.  The biggest difference is that in most instances, you never knew the person that died; you may not have even known that the little person existed.  But, to the parents, that little person had a name, hopes and dreams attached to him or her.  That loss is just as important to the parents as the loss of a spouse or a parent or sibling; it can be devastating.

Even more so as, in most circumstances, there is no funeral or memorial service during which to say final goodbyes; no real opportunity for “closure.”  Well meaning individuals try to console us by proclaiming that there can be other babies; they insist that something must have been wrong with the baby; or, that it was just simply God’s will.  Their words, while well intentioned, often serve to lessen or negate the loss.  Many feel that we should just be able to move on and live life as if the loss had never happened.  Unfortunately, those losses have the power to transform families; some positively, others negatively.

For those of us who have loved and lost children we did not have the chance to ever know, we take a moment today to reflect and remember those tiny lives that touched us so immensely.

Living With ADHD

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

ADHD

Those letters loomed large in front of me.  I’d heard them and had even casually commented in passing that I wondered if my children (two boys, two and half years apart) suffered from it. However, like many, I never actually believed that either of my sons suffered from it, always chalking their behavior up to the just being “boys.”

Well, that was, until last week.

My “fears” were realized.  I use the term “fears” loosely.  True fear was last fall when I spent five days waiting for test results from a biopsy of an enlarged lymph node on my oldest son; I truly felt a weight lift from my shoulders when the nurse said his cancer panel was negative.

However, we all have hopes and dreams for our children and when we realize that there is going to be a stumbling block placed in front of them, we fear that unknown- that uncertainty.

After many months of counseling with a child therapist, during which she had given me the Vanderbilt testing forms, we reviewed the results together after both my son’s teacher and I had completed them.  They weren’t very favorable.  However, we chose not to address the test results with the pediatrician just yet. Instead, we chose to continue counseling through the summer.  I was fearful of taking a lassaiz faire approach and just “sticking” him on medication.

Two weeks into first grade, my opinion began to shift.

“He is not focusing on his work.  Could you please speak with him?” said the note from the teacher.  This was on the second day of class. “I am having trouble getting Pierce to focus on his work again today,” said the email less than a week later.

“He’s crying every time we try to talk to him or work on his homework with him,” said the phone call later that same afternoon from our church after school program.

Something had to be done.  If it was not ADD/ADHD, then my son was definitely experiencing some anxiety issues that I was ill prepared to handle in a six-year-old.  Having long suffered from anxiety issues myself, I benefit greatly from daily medication and counseling.  A visit to the pediatrician was definitely in line.

My pediatrician reviewed the Vanderbilt forms.  She reviewed some of Pierce’s schoolwork.  She listened as I described his behaviors.  She observed him in the office, where he was not being “bad” or truly “mischievous,” but was constantly on the move.

He was positively ADHD.  She had no doubts; even telling me, that if she had any doubts she would recommend counseling and would not prescribe medication, and that if it were her own son, she would try medication.

So we left the office with a prescription for Focalin, which we started the very next morning.

“I have seen a change already!  He has kept up with all the work so far today!!!” said the email from his teacher after I notified her of what had occurred the afternoon before.

“He finished all of his homework in about half the time and even had time to do a few extra sheets.  Now he’s playing,” were the words said to me when I picked my boys up from the after school program.

I’ll admit that I was a bit skeptical that the medication could work that quickly.  However, Pierce’s counselor assured me that it could, and most likely had, worked that quickly.

Now comes what I deem the hardest part: learning to live with the ADHD diagnosis.  No, it is not life threatening, and for that, I am grateful.  However, it is a stumbling block- one I really never considered.  Just as a child who is diagnosed with juvenile diabetes (although that can be life threatening and much more severe than ADHD), it is a diagnosis with which we must learn to function.

Like so many other issues and events, the actual “patient” is not the only one affected by the diagnosis; for us to overcome it as a family, it will require changes by everyone.  My son’s counselor has suggested changes to our morning and evening routines to create clear structure and boundaries.  She has said that better organization in our home will also help him focus better and prevent him from being overwhelmed with too many choices.  We have also already added additional help with his reading to hopefully help him catch up and help boost his confidence level.

I am comforted both by my decision-making process and the timing of that decision, knowing that we had already taken steps to help him out, non-medically, through counseling.  We had tried another approach and it did not solve the dilemma. At the end of the day, while I struggled with the ADHD diagnosis and the decision to medicate my son, I think it was the right decision.

In-Laws or Out-Laws?

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

I’m fortunate, today, to have a fabulous relationship with my mother-in-law and my father-in-law.

Wait, Crissie, aren’t you divorced?

The simple answer is “Yes.”  The more complex answer would be that when my marriage ended, only that relationship ended; my relationship with my children’s grandparents and other extended family members did not end.

I did not always have this great and wonderful relationship with my in-laws, however.  Going back 13 years, I’m sure that all of us could enumerate the many different things that irritated us about each other.  The long and the short of the situation, the problems were rooted in misunderstanding, miscommunication, and lack of communication regarding many different situations.  There is little reason to go back and place blame or to recount every single mistake and misstep made; all we can do is look at what we did to correct the situation, move forward, and live in peace and friendship.

The basis of this new relationship is honesty, open communication, and boundaries.

First, we are all honest that this relationship is not always easy.  There are differences in parenting that are created by our own pasts and typical generational differences.  Personality differences must be recognized and you have to accept that; accepting a personality trait does not mean that you take it on yourself, it simply means that you understand it and respect it.  There are also differences created simply by the dynamics of this relationship; my role as the parent and their role as the grandparent.  Parenting is and always has been different than “grandparenting;” much like the Las Vegas tag line, we all know that what happens at Mimi and Poppie’s stays at Mimi and Poppie’s.  Understanding this and just simply letting go of some of that parental structure and those finite rules and allowing some of those fun moments to occur can actually lead to less stress, relaxation, and great memories for your children.

Keeping the lines of communication open also goes a long way in making that in-law relationship much better.  And it goes further than just actually answering the phone when they call; I don’t just mean physical lines of communication.  Remembering that you are all human and are in this together, for better or worse, and are experiencing many of the same situations and emotions and then leaning on each other can help shore up shaky waters.  Often just opening yourself up once is enough to create a strong bond.  This is part of how my relationship has been strengthened with my mother in law; once I opened up in regards to certain issues and situations, I learned that some parts of my life were not so different than things she, herself, had experienced in her own past.  She is no longer a “Monster-in-Law” she is my mother-in-law and she is my friend; a person I can call on when I’m feeling down or need someone to read over a graduate school paper.  And I think that she feels somewhat the same way about me.

Lastly, create boundaries.  Everyone hears the word boundaries and immediately goes on the defensive, but we forget the old adage that “good fences make good neighbors;” this is also the case with relatives.  After my oldest son was born, I often felt like what I wanted no longer mattered, if my parents or my in-laws wanted to see the baby, they just stopped by or came up, regardless of our plans or desires.  Really what it amounted to was some poor planning, structure and lack of boundaries on all of our parts.  None of us recognized what the other group needed and wanted, and, in truth, deserved.  Now, if I go visit my in-laws, they recognize that I might want some time alone, to myself, or some time to just do something with the boys, alone, and even often, that I might want to spend some one on one time with my boys, individually. We work together to make all of those situations take place when desired.  But, I’m also keenly aware that they desire time with the boys as well.  They want to take them places and “show them off” and spoil them some.

We also try to make plans for holidays and special events well in advance so that all of our needs and desires are met the best they possibly can.  A few years back, I invited both my parents and my in-laws to my home on Christmas morning; however, I indicated to everyone that the door would not be opened until a specific time.  This was both for me and them.  It provided recognition that they wanted and deserved to see their grandchildren on Christmas morning, but yet protected my time with my sons on Christmas morning.  No one’s feelings were hurt or made to feel uncomfortable, and a good time was had by all because we took the necessary steps beforehand.

Will this type of structure work for every single family?  No.  However, the first step is to be honest with all parties.  Yes, it might mean sitting down and talking and this might, initially, be uncomfortable, but if the end result is more peace and harmony, with a slice of compromise thrown in, then it is worth it in the end.

In-laws or Out-laws?  Which would you rather have?  The choice truly is your own.

Why I Love Lightsabers and Not Barbie Shoes

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

Sometimes, you have to be thankful that God gives you what you need, and not always what it is that you think you want.

Being the youngest of two children and the only girl, I grew up in the 80’s surrounded by GI Joe’s, Star Wars figurines, wrestlers, baseballs and footballs.  While I had Barbies and was a Cabbage Patch Kid collector (last count was 10 or 11, I think), I always dreamed of being Princess Leia.  I had a brother who, while I idolized him, tried out on me every wrestling move the 80’s gave us, so of course, if I were Princess Leia I could kick butt and take names later.  I wasn’t really a “tom boy,” but I wasn’t really a “girlie” girl either.

As I got older, got married, and then started planning a family, I dreamed, though, of having my own little girl to dress and spoil.  I could think of nothing more than beautiful smocked dresses and hair bows galore.  When I got pregnant with my first child, I prayed to have a little girl.  Yes, I wanted to have a healthy child, but in my mind health and gender were two separate issues completely, so I prayed for a healthy child, but I really wanted “it” to be a girl.  That June ultrasound brought the news that I was most definitely NOT having a girl.  I’ll be honest, I cried for 4 days.  I caught all manner of flack for seemingly being ungrateful for carrying a healthy baby.  I was very grateful, but I was disappointed.  I’m also brutally honest, and so I let my feelings and thoughts show.  December 7, 2005 arrived and at 8:00 a.m. I fell in love with a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed little boy named Samuel Pierce Kirby, II.

Fast forward about 2 years.

By this time, I’ve got a 2-year-old and am 4 months pregnant.  I am also roughly 9 months removed from a miscarriage.  I go in for my routine 16-week ultrasound and the baby will not cooperate, so we end the session knowing that “baby” is healthy, but refusing to share its gender with us.  My wonderful OB-GYN takes pity on me and agrees to bring me back in the following week for an “unofficial” ultrasound the week before Christmas so that I will, hopefully, know the gender before the holidays.  We spend one week sure that this baby is a girl because it was being stubborn like me.  When we get to the office for the ultrasound, I’ve had orange juice and Coke hoping to excite this little one into telling us whether it is a “he” or a “she.”  The answer is obvious the moment the transducer is placed on my stomach.  It was very clear, immediately, that I was, again, NOT having a little girl.  Again, I was devastated, but not quite as upset as before, I cried for only 2 days this time.  I worried that I would not be able to equally love another little boy like I loved Pierce, but at 8:07 on May 5, 2008; I was proven wrong when John Smith Kirby made his appearance and I, once again, fell in love with a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed little man.

Fast forward almost 5 years, and I’m the single mom to these two precious and beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed “lady killers.”  I’ve been able to buy some smocked clothing, but at 6 and 4, those outfits are slowly becoming just a memory.  My house is covered in Thomas the Train, Buzz, Woody and the whole gang.  My boys know the names of almost every character from Harry Potter and can even pronounce them correctly.  We’ve watched all six Star Wars movies, and we have enough light sabers around to single-handedly save the Republic.  At least the lightsabers are larger than Barbie shoes, so you can typically avoid them in the middle of the night.

Obviously, I have no experience with little girls, but I know that during the last 3 years when I was at my lowest point, these little men knew, instinctively, how to lift my spirits.  There is something to be said for the “Mama’s Boy” syndrome; in each little boy lies the honesty, utter love and loyalty every woman desires.  Nothing lifts my spirit or makes me smile brighter than hearing an unsolicited “Mommy, I like that dress on you” or “Mommy, you look pretty.”  I always had short hair until life kept me from getting it cut as frequently as I had before, now I may never have short hair again as my little fellows have told me that they like my hair long.  After my trim the other night, Pierce told me that he liked my haircut.  And speaking of hair, during my most trying moments, I didn’t have to worry about ponytails or pigtails or braids.  I also have the simple pleasure of just handing the boys the clothes they will wear and hearing little to no protests.  I even asked Pierce one morning if he wanted to help pick out his clothes; his lifesaving response was that he would rather I just pick them out for him.  All of this certainly has made my life much easier.

Today, if you were to ask me, I would tell you that I would not trade my two little men for a million little girls and their smocked dresses and hair bows and Barbie shoes.  I often wonder if I ever re-marry and desire more children, what I would do if I did actually have a little girl?  I would almost tell you that I would rather I have another little boy, because at the end of the day, I do really prefer lightsabers to Barbie shoes.

Our Crissie Hits the Big Time!

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A couple of weeks ago Jennifer Wilson at Lexington Medical Center received a call from a woman in California who works for a website called Mamapedia.com. For those of you not familiar with Mamapedia.com, it is an online network that connects moms at every stage of their children’s lives to great content from the source they trust most: other moms. (Sounds kind of like the LMC Every Woman Blog!) The people at Mamapedia.com were doing research for an article and had run across one of Crissie Miller Kirby’s blog posts on LMC’s Every Woman Blog. They really liked what they saw and asked if they could get Crissie’s permission to run her blog post on their site! Once they saw more of Crissie’s work, they decided to make her a regular contributor to Mamapedia.com. In other words, Crissie is now a big time mommy blogger! The Mamapedia.com website is one of the top 3,000 most visited sites in the US and ranks in the top 15,000 globally! That’s a lot of people who will get to read Crissie’s posts and who will learn about the Every Woman Blog.

In truth, we know that all of our Every Woman Bloggers are rock stars – and it is great to see one of them get that acknowledgement. To visit one of Crissie’s posts on Mamapedia.com, click here. And please let us know what you think! We are so excited for Crissie, and extremely proud of her accomplishments.