I have a recordable Hallmark card for my mom for Mother’s Day (SURPRISE MOM! You’re getting a recordable card!) and I’ve had it for weeks.

I don’t know what to record.

Chances are she’ll show it to her friends, so I have to make her proud.

At the same time I have to keep her on her toes.

I like to think that part of the reward of having me as a daughter is that you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get.

I also consider it a huge gift to Cody, his life would be so boring without me.

(Side note, the other night at boring law function #3 he could sense my overwhelming distaste for lawyers and how much they like to hang around each other, use big words, congratulate themselves and be all encompassing in their complete and utter boring. I don’t feel so bad about this. Lawyers and other “professionals” even have a term for people like me, “Layperson.” If lawyers are going to come up with a snarky sounding dig to my kind I’m going to roll my eyes when no one is looking at their kind. Cody felt it necessary to scold me before boring law function #4 ate my face and I took to flying around the room with a gavel screaming “Justice is BLIIIIIIND! YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUUUUTH!!!1!!!!1”)

Today while lying around recovering from the toxic chicken fingers from boring law function #3 (apparently one must build up tolerance to law function food, especially when not chasing said food with flammable beverages) I thought that maybe I could tell all my mom the stuff I did that she never knew about but lived through.

Or maybe she did.

Regardless, SORRY MOM!

Now that I’m a mom I’m beginning to realize just how many superhero perks come with the job. Catlike reflexes, eyes in the back of your head, uncanny lie detection ability and well stocked saddlebags (just to name a few.)

I distinctly remember coming home the morning after a night of warm Goldschläger shots, a night that landed me face down in the grass in someones backyard after vomiting on at least seven pairs of shoes (one of them belonging to my boyfriend at the time. Whoops.) I had lied to my mom about the entire night saying I had fallen asleep after a movie and whoops! so sorry! (If you weren’t well aware that my very existence during my teenage years was a little touch and go, YOU ARE NOW.) I stumbled into my room in the morning claiming flu, when in all reality it was the WORST HANGOVER A HUMAN HAD EVER EXPERIENCED.

My mom dragged me out into the living room and asked “Would you like to tell us about your drinking habits?”

Actually no, mom. I would not like to tell you, but given it was really hard to blink I muttered out some story “Goldscccchlagggerrrrr *urp*…warm…soooosick, didn’tnooooo sooORRRYY, neverrrrragain *burp* bad chhhooiiicceess. bednowkthx.”

I may have still been heavily intoxicated but I remember my moms face and subsequent words PERFECTLY. “I was actually referencing the bottle of whiskey I found in your bottom drawer.”

Oh crap.

I had just admitted to something she didn’t even know I had done.

Instead she was asking about the giant bottle of whiskey my (previously mentioned puked on) boyfriend had snuck up to my house on a day we had both sluffed school.

There was no way out of this little pickle.

Not only was I grounded until I turn 28 (one more year! yaaayy!) I had to go to work in my hangover laden state.

I worked the pie counter at a local pie shop.

Goldschläger Hangover + Pie = something that makes pouring salt in an open wound look very appealing.

I haaaated her for making me go to work, but now that I’m a mom?

Awesome.

Although it didn’t convince me to stop drinking (yet) it did convince me to a) not drink to the point of blacking out b) find better hiding places and  c) not get caught in the first place.

Nominee #1 for Recordable Hallmark Mother’s Day card?

“Hey Mom! Happy Mother’s Day! One day soon I’m going to be the parent of a teenager! HOW’S THAT FOR VINDICATION? I love you!”

I love to make out with my husband.

(OH HAI DAD! CEASE AND DESIST! CEASE AND DESIST!)

It’s true.

After eight years Cody still does it for me.

Regularly.

Sometimes even multiple times.

ARE YOU BLUSHING?

You shouldn’t be, really. It’s completely natural and frankly if you have a kid EVERYONE KNOWS YOU DID IT AT SOME POINT. All this talk about us trying to get another tax deduction in my belly for the last three years? GUESS HOW WE’RE TRYING TO GET THAT BABY THERE. I dare say next to the scent of lilacs and donuts, sex is the best gift God ever gave us mere mortals.

As long as we treat it with respect.

You go messing around with something as sacred as procreation and things get dicey.

If you’re married sex is important. Not only to get those babies in our bellies but to share a part of us that is only meant for one other person who means the most to us, whomever that may be.

In my case it’s Cody.

And I crave Cody on a regular basis.

And I’m not ashamed to admit it.

There’s something about being so desperately and trusting  in love with someone even though they know what you smell like in the morning, look like after giving birth and sound like when you’re screaming about buying the wrong kind of cracker.

Our shapes have changed over the last eight years. Some parts have travelled south, a lot are squashier, but we’ve been with each other for every bump, bruise, scar, ingrown hair and new freckle.

Diaper Diaries has an all out challenge for those of you who feel up to it***.I’m not here to offer suggestions on what you should do, everyone’s situation is so different. I’m just here to say that being tangled up with your significant other on a regular basis can cure a lot of hurt, solve a lot of stress and grow a lot of love.

Plus it’s fun.

Duh.

***Diaper Diaries challenge references the New Living Translation of the Bible. While I don’t use that particular version in my personal bible study (I use the King James Version) the underlying point that sex is a good thing is the same. And that is my point. Not that anyone is wrong or right when it comes to what version of the bible they read.

Guess what I did.

A) I lost to a cat in heat who confused my legs with a potential mate.

B) I lost to a brand new razor.

C) I lost to a jelly jar that smashed to smithereens on my freshly washed floor.

D) I lost to a weed whacker.

E) SWINE FLU! (So it’s cool I make a swine flu joke right? I never can tell with pandemics.)

F) Blood spatter from a very serious bloody nose of a very bloody child.

G) I fell down the stairs. (AGAIN.)

Things have been a little dull and dare I say depressing around moosh in indy in the month of April so what better way to spice things up than with a very mysterious, possibly macabre photo of my most loathed body part? Hang around long enough and my blog is likely to give you whiplash no personal injury lawyer will be able to prosecute.

I dare say I’m thisclose to a bulleted list of “happenings in mooshville.”

LIKE THE FACT THAT MY HUSBAND IS DONE WITH LAW SCHOOL IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS.

And before all you naysayers get all “OH BUT WHAT ABOUT THE BAR?” up in my face, shut up and let me be happy for like 27 minutes before bar prep starts.

Then there’s that little kid that runs around here announcing what I may or may not smell like. Or what the world may or may not smell like, I swear that kids sense of smell didn’t kick in until 5 months ago. Nothing like getting a morning hug and having the love of your life announce “MOM, YOU SMELL LIKE BUTT” or “WHOA MAMA WITH THE DRAGON BREATH!” or tell you that her butt is more awesome than yours because it doesn’t bleed AND IT’S NOT HAIRY.

Which reminds me, has anyone seen my pride?

I had a wonderful birthday, thanks to everyone who gave me permission to make May my month since April is on my smells like butt poop list. So May it is. I’m even considering doing NaBlaPoMo for May.

And maybe my very first post will be to answer just what on earth happended south of the chubby kneequator.

April 2009 will not go down in history as the BEST! MONTH! EVER! for anyone I know.

Me included.

However.

April 2009 will go down as one of the most blessed months of my life.

For every horrible thing that knocked me down this month, there was a net already in place to catch me.

You were my net.

Yes. You.

When I went in for a painful medical procedure I had a dear friend to hold my hand and tuck my drooling face into bed when it was all over.

That same friend took the moosh in as her own when I flew across the country to be with one of my best friends who lost part of her heart on April 7th.

When I got into an accident on an LA freeway I had two ladies in the car with me who turned my sobs of sadness into sobs of laughter.

When complete and all consuming emotional exhaustion punched me in the face, I had friends who called, texted, tweeted, emailed, stopped by and just showed up.

I received more bad news today about my reproductive future but it’s okay, because I have friends who believe something good is going to come of this.

While Cody is off claiming adverse possession of the Law Library until 2 am, I have my one and only sissy sitting next to me watching ER reruns all night.

Instead of having to march around my city alone in honor of Maddie, I was surrounded by 16 other women. Five of those women made me laugh so hard I forgot to breathe. Multiple times.

Just as I’m about to slip under and succumb to the extreme blergh of the entire month of April, some lady shows up in some form with inappropriate jokes, Canadian candy,  professional hugging arms or words of extreme comforting wisdom.

Pardon me, but girls pretty much kick ass.

Today is my birthday. I am 27 years old. Don’t feel much like celebrating, but it is a tradition that you darlings make me a comment cake on my birthday. Layers of comments filled with the best things that happened to you in the month of April.

I know it sucked for a lot of us, but there were bright spots.

And you were mine.

I’m sitting outside Starbucks on Wilshire in my easter egg pocket sized rental car watching the palm trees, the clouds and the very expensive cars drive by. I believe there is a law in LA that no one is to drive a car on a main street unless it was manufactured before 2004 unless said car can be registered as luxury and/or vintage. If you have a car older than 2004? It’s shady side streets for you.

You all know it’s Easter, and you know what I believe. I’m sitting outside Starbucks because church wouldn’t let me loiter and besides, it doesn’t have wi-fi. (Well, maybe LA churches do?) So yes, Happy Easter.

I watched a macho man in too tight khakis curl his shopping basket full of protein shakes in the line at the grocery store. (By the time I had my camera out it was his turn to check out, BUT I TRIED.)  I’m staying with a friend who has friends on shows such as Big Love (har.) and The Office, on Monday Desperate Housewives will be filmed at her children’s school. I have had tacos from seedy taquerias on street corners in Hollywood that are better than any taco in the entire Midwestern territory. I tried a $16/lb. herbal tea. I also just noticed that across the street from me is Ursula’s Costumes, with an Easter Rabbit or Renaissance Wench costume available for rent.

This is a crazy place, so different than New York yet so similar for someone who grew up in a smaller city. Valet is the norm here. As is skinny jeans, full body waxings and tiny dogs in purses that cost as much as one month of rent.

I only wish I were here for a different reason.

Maddie’s toys sit in the living room untouched. No sound comes from them. The piano and guitar she and the moosh played duets on is silent. The blue chair she loved to crawl on with Rigby. sits lonely in the middle of the floor. Her very favorite push car sits in the dining room across from a makeshift shrine devoted to the “little one…with fluttery lashes and sassy personality.”

The mood is somber. But Mike and Heather are surrounded by so much love, not only in real life, but online that they can’t help to be grateful for the distraction. I was in the room when the call came about the interview in the LA Times. I was next to her when a tweet came through from Demi Moore-Kutcher wishing the Spohr family well (and crazy enough she shares the same birthday as Miss Maddie.)

As I sit here a little girl just went by being pushed in the same pink car as Maddie’s. WAH.

There are tears when memories are shared over a particular photo. There are smiles and laughs when they tell of Madeline’s obnoxious gift for changing the channel at the last second, deleting the show they had on pause.

She gave sloppy open mouth kisses that consumed one’s entire nose and mouth.

There are details going into Madeline’s service that celebrate, rather than mourn. Cherish rather than ignore.

My fingers and toes are purple, a Maddie-Pedi if you will.

A purple shirt hasn’t left my body since I landed in LA on Thursday.

The Spohr’s have let me help them, and there is something to be said about forgetting yourself and going to work.

(HEY! There goes the token metrosexual hottie, shirtless in a black convertible!)

There’s a thousand ways to help or be involved and all of them are appreciated.

******

Lotus is dedicated to get a March for Maddie in every state in the Union, join one already in progress or set one up in your own city.

Donations can be made through the March of Dimes in Maddie’s name (Mike’s donations are only at $10, while Heather’s are at $23K let’s show the guy some love.) or donations can be made directly to the Spohrs through paypal.

Wear your purple, turn your internet life purple, fly your purple balloons, take a gift to a local hospital for parents of premature babies in the NICU (a fantastic post written by Heather about what to do when someone you know has a preemie.)

As for the service? 2:30pm on Tuesday, April 14th, 2009. Old North Chapel at Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Hollywood Hills.  For more information on the site, go here.

If you’ll be attending let me know so I can watch out for you. I’ll be the one in the purple (heh.)

This is my friend Heather (Hedder.)

About a year ago I put Hedder through a DTI interview. (Determine the relationship interview.(And no, I’m not kidding.)) I don’t throw around the term Best Friend loosely and I certainly don’t want to be handing it out to people who are only mutually lukewarm to my existence. After Hedder passed the DTI, she was promoted into the ranks with Kim.
And then Heather and Kim met, and we took pictures.

This photo is one of the single best moments of my life.
Many of you know that Kim’s world was torn apart last year by an adoption scam, a terrible miscarriage that nearly resulted in her death, a difficult foster situation and yet another flaming pile of adoption crap. (All of this happened within the span of 6 months.)
Most of you should already know that Heather’s world was torn apart less than 36 hours ago when her only daughter (who just happens to be the cutest daughter of anyone, including me) passed away at 17 months from complications with an everyday sick bug and her tiny frail premature body. Despite the fact that her body was tiny and frail it was big enough to contain the biggest, sweetest spirit of any child I’ve met.
the moosh and the moo became fast friends over their mutual love of cream puffs, little white dogs, giggles and all things sugar.

I’ve watched Kim over the last year recover from her immense loss and pain. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth it. I know the Heather that pole danced and sang “I want you to want me” in Nashville is broken right now. Part of her heart, if not her whole heart, left when Maddie left this life. I know that the Heather that talks in her sleep(A LOT. It’s like sleeping to the evening news broadcast.) isn’t sleeping so well. I know that the Heather who abhorres the bottoms of peoples feet will never be the same.
But I know the Heather I’ve grown to fall in love with is still in there. I know that over time that Heather will be back. Changed, but no less lovable.



I love you Hedder Spohr like mold.
So many people do.
I wish this wasn’t you. I wish the only dramatic change in your life was a spike in your Master Card interest rate. (Master Card? Suck it.) But I know you know that I know you know that I know where Maddie is, and that you’ll see her again. For eternity. With no hospitals, no RSV, no oxygen rockets, no breathing treatments (and maybe no code browns, that would be nice right?)
And I’ll be right here the whole time. From a distance, in your face, online and in person.

Yesterday in my mad dash to fly across the country in less than 24 hours I left my computer screen open and the moosh saw this photo.

“LOOK! It’s Maddie smiling because she’s so happy to be up in heaven with Jesus.”

Yes. She is.

*******

No one should ever have to bear the burden of losing a child, let alone paying for a child’s funeral services. A paypal account is set up for the Spohr family, donations greatly appreciated. formaddie (at) hotmomreviews (dot) com.

A P.O. Box has also been set up for cards, notes, letters, gift certificates, puppies, packages and massive amounts of Canadian Smarties. (So maybe no puppies.)

Mike & Heather Spohr
11870 Santa Monica Blvd. #106-514
West Los Angeles, CA 90025