Haitian Roots T-Shirts

We've all heard about the great need the people of Haiti are in. Here is an easy way to help the children of Haiti through education.


Haitian Roots T-Shirts!!!

Aren't they cute?  The shirts support the Haitian Roots organization in its efforts to provide immediate  day-to-day assistance, as well as educational opportunities to children in Haiti.  The organization was just recently recognized for its great service, and you can feel confident knowing your support is going directly to the Haitian kids who need it most.  So go on...get your own t-shirt here.


Haitian Roots is an organization my family is closely involved with. I am a firm believer in the saying, "Knowledge is Power," and I truly believe education to be the way to providing productive, sustainable, successful and happy lives, particularly to impoverished peoples.

It has been estimated that 90 percent of the Haitian population lives on less than $100 a year. With the cost of public schooling at about $250 per child each year, education is a luxury many children just cannot afford. Without access to even a basic education, Haiti's children are trapped in a cycle of poverty that has plagued the country for generations.  For $250 a year, we are able to send a child to their local school and provide proper school uniforms and books when needed. At Haitian Roots, we believe the old Chinese proverb that says, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

In the wake of the earthquake, the organization has been on the ground providing supplies, immediate needs, and emotional support to its children and the Haitian people.

Though it's been nearly three months, Haiti still needs our help.  If you have an extra $15 lying around, this is a great way to support Haiti's people now, as well as provide help for their futures.

Thanks!

One Year Old

Mr. W turned one year old.  A whole year since this whole thing started.  The time has raced by so quickly, but when I think of all the things we've done, experienced, accomplished, guessed and figured out, etc., it seems like forever ago that he was born.  But (warning:  mushy cliche), I can't really remember life without him.  Pretty sure he's a keeper.

We had a couple of little parties for Winston -- one for friends and one for family.  All are so kind and generous to not only Winston, but to D and me, as well.  We are so lucky to have so many people who love and support our family.

(thank you Kristin for the banner and cupcake toppers)
      

I have made several attempts at snapping the traditional monthly photos, but I've run into some road blocks:
A)  The boy won't sit still long enough to create a non-blurry picture;
B)  Placing him on the changing table in onesie and appropriate signage is a hazard because of previously mentioned challenge (see A);
C)  Lots of rain means junky lighting, which means not so good photos.  I'm no expert photographer here; and finally,
D)  I've been busy.

This weekend's weather looks promising, so the hubs and I will tag team the photo opp necessary for the photos.  W's appetite has kicked up a notch, so it will look a bit odd if it takes us much longer than this weekend to get the photos done.

Anyway, here are his stats:
Height:  31" (95%)
Weight:  21 lb. 1.5 oz (25%)

He's growing taller and taller, and (slowly) wider and wider.  Just one long and lean little dude.  Here are some things I love about Winston:

**Smashes his face on the back door and blows his cheeks out when I take Lucy out for her business.

**Obsesses over closing doors.  As soon as we enter a room, the door must be shut behind us.  Hasn't quite figured out how to open doors back up, which brings a bit of frustration.

**Finally likes milk!

**Weight loss partner.  I think he eats more than I do when we go out for lunch.  And when you share a meal, that's a positive thing for me.

**So sensitive.  W doesn't like it when other kids or babies cry.  It's like it hurts his feelings.  So he cries along with them, just to make sure they have somebody to cry with (I suppose?).

**Takes a good Sunday nap following afternoon church (which is brutal!).  Can't thank you enough, W.

**As my mom refers to them, "Fred Flinstone" feet that are so adorable.

**All boy all the time.

**Loves to people watch, particularly at restaurants.

**Karate chops the car seat canopy any chance he gets.

**Sixth sense of knowing the second a drawer, cabinet or dishwasher is opened and races directly to it for entry, inspection and removal of contents.

There are so many things to like about you, Winston.  I can't keep track of them all.  I sure love everything about you, though, even your mischievous smile after performing your latest trick.  Love you, Bubs.

xoxo

I'm Official

(**I don't anything about the churched referred to at the end.  The clip is just too perfect to pass up.**)

As seen in one of my favorite movies, Nacho is concerned that Steven has not been baptized.  Going up against Satan's Cavemen, los Luchadores needed all the help they could get.  To Nacho, baptism brought a unique power and strength.  It was something he wanted Steven to have; something he needed him to have.

I concur with Nacho.

Yesterday I was at lunch with some friends.  We somehow forgot it was Spring Break.  And it was noon.  So, the restaurant was bursting at the seams with lunch-break professionals, and moms desperate for something to do with their kids until they went out of town.  It was a madhouse, but we got lunch.  The older kids ate.  Then they played.  All was well.

"Was" being the operative word.

W was on the brink of a nap and it was starting to show.  He was on some sort of hunger strike and refused to eat any real food, but boy, he thought those Goldfish crackers sure were good.  I tried to sneak in normal food while he devoured all the little fishies I had.  My plan didn't work, so I just let him finish off the fish.  He had to eat something, right?

After his "meal," W let me know that he was no longer interested in sitting in a crowded, loud restaurant.  So I got him out of his chair and, while doing the mom bounce, I pulled our things together.  I must have been a little distracted because all of the sudden I felt a warm sensation accompanied by a terrible sound.  I wasn't liking where this was going.

There they were:  regurgitated Goldfish.  Everywhere.

All down W's arm, my arm, chest, and puddled between my stomach and W's leg.

It was gross.  Really, really gross.

Once I got over the initial shock, I headed straight for the bathroom.  And, as luck would have it, the bathroom was equipped with a single sink, tiny countertop, motion sensing faucet that turns on for 0.2 seconds, and an automatic paper towel dispenser that spits out 3 inches of next-to-nothing paper towel.  It was a joke.

But I did get a laugh.  The pathetic nature of the bathroom accompanied by W's laugh and smile made the situation somewhat comical.  W was fine.  Not sick at all.  As it turns out, sticking his finger down his throat until he gags is his latest trick.  (Definitely not my favorite trick.)

I stripped W of his pants, unsuccessfully wiped myself down, collected my things, and headed for the car.  Once we were buckled in, I assessed (and smelled) the situation.  Sure, it was disgusting.  I was covered in mushy, orange, unrecognizable Goldfish, and  W was half naked in the back seat.  But I didn't freak out.  I didn't get embarrassed.  I even laughed.

I wouldn't say it was a proud moment.  Not at all.  But I was the newest baptized member of Child-Threw-Up-On-Me-In-Public mother's club.  And though I would never deem W anything close to Nacho's opponents, I do share el Luchador's feelings that this said baptism is necessary for salvation.  For me, it's the added strength I need in my quest for motherly salvation.

I will likely be puked on again.  I'll probably be subjected to further public accidents, messes and the like.  But I'm not concerned.  I'm official.

Felicidades!

Disregard

I received an e-mail this morning titled, "Your toddler this week."
Toddler?
Toddler?!
Gee, they don't waste any time.
Isn't there like a one week grace period?

It's true, I suppose.  Winston turns one year old today.
So long babyhood.
Welcome to toddler-dom.

I remember 365 days ago going into the hospital with the hubs.
Somehow, I didn't even remember to bring my hospital bag.
Eighteen hours later W arrived.
You.  Dear Winston.
Only, we didn't know your name yet.
That took several days.
We wanted to get to know you better.

And that's what we've been doing the past 12 months.
Getting to know you better.
Getting to know ourselves better.
Getting to know each other better.

Some of the events of this special day in 2009 are a bit hazy.

It was a long day.  

Ups and downs.

Plans made.  Then changed.  Then changed again.

But I'll never forget my feelings on the brink of midnight.

You were finally here.

D was tending to you and I got to see you for the first time.

It was like I'd caught my breath for the first time.

A big deep breath.  

He's here.

He's healthy.

He's huge!

We are happy.

I am Mom.

The last year has gone by so quickly.
Too quickly?  Yes, I think so.
Yet...
I am more than excited for all that you can experience in the next year, the next year and the one after that, too, though I may not want to admit it sometimes.

When I look back at the millions of pictures we've taken of you, I am amazed at the literal physical transformation.
It is incredible!
Somehow I feel the photos don't quite capture the real transformation of who this boy is becoming, as well as his parents.

Happy.  Learned.  Fun.  Experienced.  Playful.  Wise.  Thoughtful.  Lovey.  Patient.  Intuitive.  Curious.  Sensitive.  Strong.    

How thankful I am to be a part of that.
W, I am so happy to be your mom.  Honored.  Delighted.  Over the moon.

Grow up.  Explore.  Learn everything.
Listen to yourself.
Know who you are and remember that.  Always.
Love others.
Love yourself.
Experience all that is good.
(Just take us along with you :) Please. )

I never quite understood how some mothers always referred to their children as their babies.
But I've learned one's age doesn't determine this title.
It is endearment.
It is a feeling.
It's a recalling of one's purest state.
Baby.

For this reason, I join that group of moms.
You'll always be my baby, W, regardless of what those e-mails say.

Happy birthday baby boy!  I love you, Bubs.

Elderly Wisdom

I had to make a return to Lowe's today.  W wasn't particularly enjoying himself, but this was the last stop before heading home.  Rather than lug him out of the car seat again, I decided to leave him be and push him in the shopping cart to make said return.
As I waited in line to return my refrigerator filter (glamorous, huh?), an older gentleman approached me.  He wore a lovely red plaid flannel shirt, a hat and a big grin.  His face was wrinkled.  His hands worn.  Crows feet were deep around his eyes and they puckered more when he smiled.  He was darling.  
He politely (almost shyly) asked if he could see who was in the little "bucket" (translation: car seat).
I smiled.  "Of course," I said, and stepped to the side.
The smile on his face got bigger and bigger.  He put his hands together, took in a deep breath and looked me right in the eyes.
"You know, we can learn a lot from these little ones," he said with all sincerity.  "I like to say, we adults feel like if you do this for me, then I'll love you.  If I do this for you, you'll love me.  But these little ones, they don't do that.  Unconditional love.  That's what that is.  They love unconditional[ly]."
I was a little taken aback at how sweet and sincere this man was.  I felt like I wanted to give him a hug.
"But there is one thing they don't love," he continued.  "A wet back side."
(exit the warm fuzzies!)
(pause)
I wasn't sure what to say.
"Me neither."
That was all I could think of.
The man smiled again.  Told me to have a nice day and walked away.

Post Script: You Bring the Milk

{via Martha}

similar to politics and religion, i suppose discussing grammar is taboo.
but let's clear the air.

a)  everything I wrote yesterday was written incorrectly.
intentionally.
all of it.
i saw the clever grammatical poster, and thought you might enjoy it as much as i.

b)  i am not claiming perfection.
i am guilty of said offenses, and you're free to call me on it.
does referring to a "right" -- instead of "rite" -- of passage sound familiar?
that was me.  i was hoping you wouldn't notice.

c) how 'bout a truce?
i won't critique your grammar or spelling.
i won't even make a face.
but i may clench my mental red pen tightly.

so quit double, triple and quadruple checking yourself.
just bring some milk.  i'll bring the cereal.  and we'll talk it over.
and maybe next time I'll post about the clever cat poster instead (which is hilarious, by the way).

What's Worse Than Running Out of Milk?

grammar gets to me.
alot.
i tend to loose control when others misspell/misuse words.
it annoys me.
alot.
even more then pouring a bowl of cereal only to discover your out of milk.
poor grammar has that affect on me.
wierd huh?
doesn't matter weather your a "writer."
i believe all can correct such offenses.
definately.
check here to learn how.

{via marta writes}