A Good Day

Today was a GOOD day.  Not so much the part of it that I was in, but the part of it I got to hear about, and the evening I got to enjoy after it, well, those were quite good, I must say.  

It started with a routine Tuesday morning of prepping a less than enthusiastic 2-year old for preschool by pulling out all the stops to avoid the tears while listening repeatedly to his favorite saying: "I can't want to go to school!"  Carpool was not the worst it has ever been; he cried, but through his heartbreaking sobs he also waved, "Bye-bye, Mama!" and blew kisses as his teacher carried him away, his sweet face soaked with salty sadness.  As I drove to work I made the typical phone calls to Daddy and the grandmothers to relay the events of drop-off, and I was feeling okay about the progress he is making, slow but steady.

Through all of this I was anxiously awaiting a return phone call from the surgeon who performed Jack's unnecessary hernia operation b/c Jack's incision site had become inflamed over the weekend.  I spent the first half of my work day distracted by thoughts and fears of another hospitalization or infection, and although I was busy, I found myself overlooking details and just not as meticulous as I am known to be.  There was a total communication breakdown between myself and a co-worker, through no fault of either, that continued throughout the day and which we both found to be odd since we are usually so in sync.  Even after I spoke to the doctor I still felt antsy, tense and just plain irritable, despite his basically optimistic determination that we could just continue to watch things for another week and apply antibiotic ointment to the surface.  The whole situation is still so fresh in my mind that even the potential of something else going wrong freaks me out.

But in the middle of it all, I got a little glimpse into my Jack-Bo's day when the preschool Director emailed me to say he was "A Star" and doing great!  As I read, a twinge of hope and happiness flooded through me, but then it drained right back out...

I was not the only one feeling a little out of whack at work.  Auditors are visiting this week, so there is a decent amount of pressure going around, and I'm sure that we all feed off each other under these circumstances.  Still, as the day wore on, I felt more and more down in the dumps with no specific reason I could pinpoint.  I thought of all the stress in my life right now, and sometimes it seems that once I get started I can't stop, so the list was piling high and daunting, but at the same time there wasn't anything newly added.  Then I was asked to do a special project, and although I normally would have welcomed the variety, I felt more overwhelmed by it today.  A few times I even found myself frustrated and fighting back the misty eyes.  Finally it was time to leave...

On my way out to my car I was talking to God, praying something along the lines of "PLEASE don't let Jack be cranky when I pick him up; I just really can't deal with it today."  It has become his standard greeting to run up and push me in the legs saying, "No mommy, go away!" when he sees me after I've been working all day.  No matter how much he has missed me he still needs me to know he is angry I wasn't with him.  Sadly, he doesn't seem to understand that I am angry about that too, so I try my best to ignore the beating and attempt to hug him anyway.  He usually softens after a few minutes and we get loaded up in the car to head home, but once we are there a second battle frequently ensues. I struggle to get him out of the car, into the elevator and up to our condo, and typically this involves me dragging his spaghetti-legs and potato-sack body through a portion of the journey while threatening time-out or some other loss of privilege.  ("Jack, Mommy HAS to change before we can ride your bike!  Your bike is inside!  Let's just go inside for one minute!  Please don't make me drag you!  I have so much other stuff to carry!")  Once I finally manage to get him settled it is often too late to do whatever he wanted to do in the first place, and then round 3 begins, and all of this is before we've even thought about dinner!  

So today, I was not in the mood for any of it.   

God was listening. :-)

As I pulled up in the driveway, I saw my MIL getting Jack out of her car and I thought, oh great, he is never gonna wanna go right from one carseat to another...but when he saw me he was SO EXCITED!!!  He  jumped into my arms, immediately wrapped himself around my neck and exclaimed "Hi Mommy!"  He kissed me and hugged me and welcomed me with the most amazing sweetness, better than anything I could ever imagine!  

The car ride home included a nice conversation with a little broken language, but mostly I understood what he was saying.  I smiled as he shared the happenings of his day with me, and we talked about school, snack time, the playground, his friends, his cousins, my work, my friends, dinner, gymnastics, dogs, football, and you name it!  Just as we hit the last traffic light before our neighborhood his favorite song came on the radio, and together, we joyfully belted out along with it!  "La, la, la!  La, la, la!  Tonight, Tonight...!"

This time Jack's bike was in the car with us, and I was wearing comfortable enough shoes to withstand a few laps around the parking lot before going inside.  Plus, Daddy was about to be home, so I told Jack he could ride until Daddy got here, and he seemed satisfied with that.  After a few minutes, Jack's attention shifted from his bike riding to his Daddy's truck pulling in, and it was relatively easy to get him into the elevator.  

We had one slight set-back getting out of the elevator, as Jack proceeded to pedal as fast as he could through  the corridor.  I chased him while holding onto my purse, his school bag, a diaper bag and 2 bags of groceries that Daddy had just bought.  I am always terrified he will turn the corner and accidentally ride his bike down the stairs!  Once inside we sent him to his room for time-out, to which he went willingly, and for once he did not cry or get upset about it.  Two minutes later he was back to being sweet as pie!  

The evening continued with this trend.  Jack was silly and playful, and even when I cut him off from the chips and didn't let him help me cook the fish, he remained tantrum free!  He ate his dinner, and we gave him some ice cream, and then bath and bed time were relatively painless!  

As I snuggled him to sleep I thought about my attitude for most of the day.  Sometimes we just don't feel like being happy.  It is hard to smile all the time.  Life is stressful, and it is normal to get caught up in the negative...but every once in awhile a light shines through the darkness and leads the way to a brighter tomorrow...or at least just a nice evening with your kid!  These are the moments I want to remember when I look back...the ones that carry me through the hard times, not the hard times themselves!  

I have a suspicion that my boy's wonderful day at school had the domino effect on the rest of his day, and maybe, just maybe, he is finally adjusting to life as a "Doodlebug."  Perhaps there is a deeper message for me in all of this, that I could benefit as well from adjusting to my life as a working mom, despite my ambition to stay at home.  Maybe in doing so I could enjoy more of my days instead of dreading them, knowing that our separation is temporary and for the greater good, and looking forward to having so much to talk about when we are together again.

And right now, as I am typing, my precious cherub champion is sleeping peacefully in the bed behind me.  I hear his rhythmic breathing, and once again, I am reminded of all of my blessings.  Thank you, God.  Yes, today was a good day.

I'm Not Gonna Sue...So Please Just Tell Me the Truth!

I've been thinking about what I wanted to say in this post for days now.  I've even started it over and over again in my head, coming up with different angles to get my point across, or exploring analogies that may somehow compare to my feelings.  I've been sitting here for over an hour uninterrupted - I am home alone for once - but this is my first actual paragraph.

I'm still trying to recover from the trauma of watching my child suffer at the hand of an ER doctor who, if he had just been a bit more attentive, would have been able to spare me the need to write this post in the first place.  Yes, I NEED to write this post.  I MUST get these feelings out.  I'm so distraught by the experience that I am unable to get my life back to a level of normal functioning.  If there was ever a time for me to write, this is it. Writing is my therapy.  

But what I have realized since my child came home from the hospital is that I still don't have answers.  It is hard to write about something when you don't fully understand what is going on.  And at the same time, I haven't accepted that I can't get those answers.  I still feel like the doctors owe me something: the truth about what happened to my son. Logically I know they will never admit fault.  No one is ever going to accept responsibility for the misdiagnosis and unnecessary pain they caused my innocent baby b/c somewhere along the way they were taught not to...I'm guessing for fear of being sued, but really I don't know.  Maybe there is just an added arrogance or a "doctors band together" code that just won't allow it to happen.  Or perhaps I'm caught in a war of ethics.  People are so quick to take advantage of the legal system that doctors are forced not to apologize for their mistakes, since doing so could possibly be taken as an admission of guilt.  That negates both "honesty is the best policy" and "ask and ye shall be forgiven."

And all of that just means my power to DO something about this is limited.  I am not the kind of person to start a legal battle over an honest mistake.  I'd rather go the route of using it as a teaching moment, an opportunity to broaden the education and experience of a medical professional whose jump-the-gun style of treatment resulted in an immeasurable amount of pain and an emergency surgery that could have been prevented. I have no desire to ruin his career or put him out of a job!  I simply want him to study up on the basics of bedside manner and dealing with terrified parents in the heat of the moment!  Seriously, you chose to be an ER doctor!  You should realize there is going to be some fear in the event of an actual emergency!   The least you can do is remain professional, and it certainly wouldn't hurt you to offer a little compassion...  

To learn from mistakes we first have to evaluate the paths that lead us to make them.  I KNOW that there is another way they could have assessed my son's condition to confirm that he did not have a hernia before they dosed him with narcotics and began manipulating his entire groin area to reduce non-existent bowels into an imaginary hole in his abdominal cavity.  They absolutely could have used some sort of imaging technology to be certain.  I've done my research, and I've seen the awful pictures of "incarcerated inguinal hernias" in children, and yes, I can acknowledge that my son's condition did significantly resemble many of those photographs, but one simple fact remains: it wasn't a hernia at all.

Still, I can understand that since inguinal hernias are so common in infant boys, it made sense to order the IV and Morphine and attempt the manipulation.  What I don't get is how after the first 20 minutes of squeezing and kneading and squishing while my child screamed and writhed in pain as his father and I participated in restraining him, I, holding his arms and Daddy, his legs, the ER doctor still couldn't tell that this was not a "normal" hernia situation.  Instead of thinking maybe this IS something else, he ordered more Morphine and proceeded for another 25 minutes.  If he did think there was something fishy about it, he didn't express it, so I can only assume he continued in this manner b/c he still believed it to be an incarcerated inguinal hernia.  Now, I've never massaged bowels, but I can imagine that poop has a distinct feel.  If it ever crossed his mind that what he was manipulating did not feel like poop, he never mentioned it.  

I don't really even know how to say this.  I just know it to be true.  There was a moment, a turning point, in that ER, where the doctor lost sight of the best interest of his patient, who coincidentally happened to be my son.  It was almost as if he switched gears on a surge of adrenaline b/c no longer did it matter that the boy was in pain!  It was more important to be the hero!  The one who solved the problem!  It became a boost to his ego, a challenge to "make it stay," this huge mass of God knows what, that the doctor was pushing into what looked like a little dent in my baby's groin.  My boy was screaming, crying out, fighting us with all his might to make it stop, and it took all 3 of us to do it, but we managed to hold him down...and torture him...at the direction of this misguided physician.

When the surgeon was finally called, we were told emergency surgery was a must.  We were scared, but we accepted that, feeling like the surgeon really did save the day by taking over from the horrible ER doctor of doom.  But when the surgery revealed there was no hernia, even the surgeon admitted he was perplexed.  He actually stated that he removed "pieces of the lymph node" that had become "friable" due to the manipulation of the area and "cleaned up the mess" inside.  Still, he stood by his decision to cut, claiming that it was potentially a life-saving operation.  I wanted him to say the ER doc messed up. I wanted him to tell me that it was all just an accident, a terrible mistake...but he didn't. Instead he avoided that line of our questioning and redirected us again and again to his new diagnosis of Lymphadenitis, inflammation of a lymph node, most likely due to an impending infection.  We were exhausted.  It was the middle of the night.  We had just been shocked out of our minds.  We had so many questions...the next day he was additionally diagnosed with Cellulitis, an infection of the skin, probably staph or strep, and he was treated with IV antibiotics for 5 days.  

Fast forward to now we are home.  I'm tearing my hair out trying to move past this and just be thankful my child is alright, but I still can't shake the feeling that more needs to happen.  Last week I called our pediatrician to discuss another issue, and I decided beforehand that how she responded to the call would determine if we would continue at that practice.  Something we have been concerned about for almost 2 years was overlooked by her, and it turns out it could have been the cause for the infection.  When it was brought to our attention by another surgeon during his rounds, we once again experienced this whole "doctors banding together" code as he quickly defended a pediatrician he didn't even know by saying it isn't something commonly noticed.  Fine, but for TWO YEARS we pointed it out to her!  For TWO YEARS we asked questions, and she never even mentioned the actual medical term for the condition.  It took another doctor one look to figure out and 5 seconds to correct what could have been a lifetime problem if it continued undetected!  If it is true that everything happens for a reason, I believe this discovery is the reason for this entire nightmare.

The pediatrician responded I guess a little better than I expected, although her take was that she comes from a different school of thought on the issue and believes it normally corrects itself in time.  She did, however, apologize for perhaps not communicating well about it and not paying enough attention to the progression of the problem.  I know I should be satisfied with that, and I am by about 90%, but I just can't seem to shake that other 10% that tells me she SHOULD have recognized it sooner...b/c if she had, my son may very well have never had that infection!

And all that goes back to the idea that to learn from mistakes we first have to evaluate the paths that lead us to make them.  I chose my son's pediatrician.  I chose her based on how I would relate to her as a woman, as a mother.  It was selfish.  I should have chosen a pediatrician based on how he would relate to my son as a patient.  I was looking for someone to support my decisions and not judge me, but what I should have done was choose someone who would help guide my decisions and advocate for my child with me! Ultimately I am responsible for the issue that was overlooked, that likely led to the Cellulitis infection, that manifested as Lymphadenitis, that presented like the misdiagnosed hernia, that most devastatingly inspired the brutal manipulation by the insensitive ER doc, that resulted in the friable lymph node, that in turn had to be partially removed, which added to my child's discomfort and an overall traumatic experience.  I am supposed to protect him!  And I failed...

At least that is how I feel.  I am battling massive guilt over all of this.  I know that I did my best.  Logically I know none of this was my fault...but it is so hard to believe that way when no one will own up to what has happened!  We still don't even understand it all!  I want to know why the ER doc didn't think to check for a swollen lymph node.  I want to make sense out of how my child had an operation for something that wasn't actually wrong with him.  I want someone to explain to me how this all went so array!  And if no one can do that, then I want someone to just step up and say sorry!  We goofed.  We made a mistake.  It wasn't life threatening, but we realize it caused undue pain on your child and stress on your family. Once the mistake was discovered we should have done everything in our power to make this situation right, and we should have provided you with the very best care and highest level of customer service.  The doctor who mistreated you will be reprimanded and educated on his mistakes, and your son's case will be used as an example of something else to consider when a hernia is assumed... 

Isn't that just basic good ethics?  We teach our children to tell the truth.  We preach to them that "honesty is the best policy," and we encourage them to be forgiving...Right? Don't we?  

ethicsplural of eth·ics (Noun)

1. Moral principles that govern a person's or group's behavior.

2. The moral correctness of specified conduct.

Or am I in the minority?  Am I one of the few who won't sue when I burn my tongue with my hot coffee?

I have been jaded now.  I don't know who to trust.  I am afraid that if something else happens to my child I won't be able to trust anyone.  I fear I will vacillate wildly over every decision and probably end up making the wrong ones.  I'm probably overreacting already.  

Its just...having a child changes everything.  I would do ANYTHING to take back what my son went through, but since I can't I am even more determined to make sure NOTHING like that ever happens to him again.  I'm a mess over this, and it is clearly going to take me some time to move past it.  I am so grateful that he is healthy and okay. We are infinitely lucky and blessed that he recovered so well and quickly.  I WANT to be able to move forward and enjoy my sweet boy and not look back with so much anger and sadness about the ordeal...especially b/c he is hopefully too young to even remember it.  

I'm still debating if I want to pursue anything further with the hospital.  We did file a complaint with Risk Management, and they will be conducting some sort of "peer review."  I'd like to think that is enough, but I may need to write a letter too.  I'm not sure yet.  

In the mean time, I guess it feels better to get some of my thoughts out into cyberspace. Maybe the writing will do the trick and bump me out of this funk.  

After all, I am Mommy to the most beautiful boy in the world...    

For more information on Jack's story, read "What Happened to Jack" on The McQ Zoo family blog...

The Trend Continues

The first time my husband was let go from his job, he had been at the same home building company for 8 years. We had been dating a little over 3.5 years, and I had anticipated his proposal for months. I knew exactly when he bought the ring...b/c he was too excited not to hint to me...but then a work trip and a girls beach weekend delayed our moment. When I returned from Hilton Head he informed me we had dinner plans at our favorite steakhouse, Hal's, for that Friday. The date was August 31, 2007, Labor Day weekend.

The morning of our dinner date, I was giddy as a school girl. I knew what was coming and so did everyone else. Since we both worked there we had friends and co-workers waiting just as excitedly as I was for him to pop the question. But that same morning there was a dark cloud looming overhead in the hallways of our office building. We knew there was a possibility, but we had not considered it realistically, and we hoped that our relationship with management would spare us a spot on the chopping block when the ax began to fall. As I worked in the IT department, I was one of the first notified when employees were terminated, and all morning I anxiously watched my computer screen for the email to pop up with instructions to delete his user account. Names were appearing in astonishing numbers; it was already the 3rd round of layoffs. How many more could they possibly let go? Still, I did not see his name.

We kept in contact throughout the morning with our fingers crossed, yet our minds wandering to our own joy and plans for the evening, Nextel-ing each other every few minutes for me to report the play-by-play as builders dropped like flies. When his boss drove into his neighborhood, he got nervous; our hearts started racing, but still, we felt like it could be someone else's doom.

Then he called. He never called. He always "hit me" on the Nextel. The call was different, eerie, unexpected.

"I'm done."

His boss had let him go, informing him of 1 week of severance pay for every full year he had worked there. He was required to sign a separation notice to receive it, and that was the end.

"I haven't seen your name!"

And then there it was. Brett McQuilken - terminated. I cried, he froze. Our joy was interrupted and neither of us even thought about our date or our plans or the ring for the rest of that phone call. People in the office around me offered comfort; I resisted and lashed out. I stormed into the Operations Manager's office who was also a good friend and demanded he tell me why he had not clued us in to this decision. "You knew we were getting engaged today, and you still let this happen!" I don't think I gave him a chance to respond; I didn't really know if he contributed to the decisions anyway. I marched down to the CFO's office and stood in the doorway, arms flailing and heart pounding so hard that he could probably see it pulsating in my chest!

"So Brett was let go today!"

"There were 22 people on that list."

"Am I on that list?"

"No."

"I'm leaving for the rest of the day."

"Okay."

And with that I dramatically made my exit and headed home to be with my man. My boss emailed to see if I was planning on coming back the following week, which I was, but in that moment, I had to get away. It was clear everyone understood. In the end, we all knew it wasn't personal. Business is business, and sometimes it just sucks.

At home Brett and I cuddled in each other's arms while sitting in an over-sized sofa chair, not really saying too much. Mostly we just cried. The layoff was such a feeling of rejection for him, and regardless of the economy or assurance that he was not to blame, his feelings were hurt. After a bit of mutual sadness and our expressions of unwavering love, he said these magic words:

"You're the most stable thing in my life right now. Let's go get engaged."

And we did. Although he had bought the ring, it was being set, so his plan was to pick it up on his way home from work that day. Work got cut early, so the ring was still at the store. We got in the car, taking our baby girl (dog) Della with us, and drove to Jared. Della and I waited in the parking lot as Brett went inside. I was texting friends and feeling waves of sadness and joy and excitement and anger and I think my heart stopped when I saw him coming out of the store. He got in the car. I was in the driver's seat. Della somehow knew to be totally still and quiet, watching us from the middle of the back seat. Brett pulled out a stuffed polar bear hugging a penguin with a St. Jude's Children's Hospital tag. "Even though I don't have a job, I still couldn't say no to the children." He placed the ring on the beak of the little penguin and asked me to marry him.

It was the happiest day of my life. Cloudy, but so happy.

On the last week of his severance Brett landed a new position with a commercial general contractor. It was a low-man-on-the-totem-pole job and a bit of a pay cut, but we knew we were lucky to not feel the effects of a period with no income. We still planned our wedding and got married, we went to Jamaica for our honeymoon, we got a 2nd dog (Tug), I got a new job, and basically we started a new chapter in our lives. We were able to live pretty much the same way we did before the layoff…but not without sacrifice.

Brett didn't love his new job. It was not the best environment. His confidence was shaken, and rightfully so. The economy was getting worse, and now banks weren't lending, so the projects his new company was supposed to have were unable to be financed. He began to feel like they were targeting him in an effort to make him quit. He opened up to me about just how bad things were during a special fall camping trip we took as just the two of us. We decided that he would stick it out, but we both began to feel the fear of him losing yet another job in a struggling economy.

In November things got really scary, and we were certain Brett was about to be cut. Sure enough on Friday the 14th, his time came. It was an emotional weekend for us. The stress was making me sick. The next Monday, I went to the doctor for a sinus infection...and came home with a positive pregnancy test. It was 3 days after he was let go. We'd had plans to start trying for a baby in January 2009, but we got pregnant 2 months earlier than expected. Another bittersweet life changing moment. We were overjoyed with the news, and yet terrified for our financial situation. We knew how lucky we were to have my job and my health insurance, but it was far from ideal since we'd hoped I would be able to mostly be a stay-at-home-mom. With the support of our amazing families and friends, we began preparing for our baby's arrival, knowing that had we not been pregnant already we probably would have delayed our plan for trying in light of our new circumstances, and ever so thankful it happened when it did!

August 4th, 2009, we welcomed the most beautiful boy into our world. It was the happiest day of our lives. The clouds parted for awhile to let us bask in the light our sweet baby, who from the moment we knew he was coming brought us nothing but joy, despite the fact that Brett was still unemployed. We are truly blessed with the gift of our son, our love for him and each other unwavering.

Brett spent 2 years, 3 months, and 14 days officially without a job. He worked his butt off on side jobs, home renovations, small contracts here and there, sometimes getting screwed along the way...But he made new business contacts, and thanks to my sister, he was put in touch with many homeowners in the community who wanted repairs and improvements since they couldn't sell their homes in this market. He began to get comfortable with this way of working. Meanwhile I struggled to obtain a Loan Modification for our mortgage, cut all the fat from our budget, and even skimped on the lean to keep our bills paid and our baby fed. I went back to work full time 4 days per week, and together we just did what we had to do to get by. We got used to living week to week. We became accustomed to the uncertainty. We were (and still are) so blessed to have such a supportive and helpful family, who came to our aid time and time again.

Finally this past February 2011, Brett got a job! He was referred by friends who formerly worked at the home builder, and he was a shoe in for the Project Manager position. Things seemed promising at the beginning, and we were thrilled for the opportunity. It was the best working environment for Brett so far and it came with a stable, steady income that, although small, was still enough to pay our bills and feed us. Once again Brett worked his tail off for this company. He liked his job. He liked his co-workers. He felt needed, wanted, busy all the time. They even gave him the largest community with the most high maintenance client, knowing he could handle it b/c of his great personality and easy-going nature.

Jack's Bday Pizza Dinner in Hilton Head

On the week of Jack's 2nd birthday, Jack and I went with my family to Hilton Head. Brett stayed behind to work b/c he did not have any accrued vacation time yet, having been employed there for just 5 months. We talked every day, and nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Work was fine, so it seemed.

On Jack's birthday I called to put Jack on the phone with his Daddy, but when Brett answered he had terror in his voice once again. "Brooke, Brooke, they are doing layoffs!" My heart sank. Seriously, on Jack's birthday? I mean, come on! Can't we have any special occasions that are not associated with the loss of a job? Less than an hour later...

"No more."

More than afraid, I was angry. More than sad I was mad. I had to keep my emotions in check for the sake of Jack though. I was not going to let ANYTHING ruin his birthday...not even this. By the same token, Brett was handling it pretty well. After he went home and threw up, he seemed to take on a glass half full approach and proceeded to tell me that this time he felt more prepared than ever. He knew what he had to do, and he had more contacts and experience, and he assured me we would be alright. We knew it wasn't personal. Last one hired, first one fired, and he also started to look back and see some red flags he had overlooked indicating numbers were not as high as he'd originally thought; bonuses were looking slim and there was no money to be made. Fortunately, the sting of rejection was quick and somewhat less painful b/c he'd been there before, but also b/c the decision this time was made by people in a Corporate office who had never even met him before, but knew cutting him was an easy out of paying for the added cost of his benefits, which would have kicked in at his 6 month mark. In the end, it is their loss.

My original thought when this happened on Jack's birthday was "the trend continues." How creepy and just plain weird that at another significant and celebratory time in our lives this would occur. I fought the urge to become cynical, arguing with myself that the second we let our guard down this is what happened. We blinked...and now what? When are we gonna get a break?

But 3 days later, we did. The same Operations Manager friend I yelled at on the day we got engaged was a guest at our son's birthday party, and he brought more than just a present for Jack. He handed Brett a piece of paper with a name and number on it and told him he had already called in a referral. By the end of the week, Brett had a new job!

We handle excitement differently, Brett and I. I want to know all the details so I can start planning our budget and crunching numbers, while he wants to relax and enjoy the feeling of internal peace. I tend to burst his bubble with my 20 questions and Devil's advocate way of thinking, and he is pretty good at letting me know when I need to just shut up. But we also complement each other well at these times. We discuss things and I help him explore the elements he may not think of on his own, and then we make decisions together. It works for us, and it is one of our best strengths as a couple, being able to listen to each other and work as a team on the big issues. With lots of hurdles on the path, we have already gotten this far...

Today was his first day. I am still a little nervous about things, but Brett is excited and full of optimism and positive energy. I am happy and relieved, but I've come to understand that both of those feelings are not achieved through a new job, but rather they are side effects of "A Full and Thankful Heart." By taking my personal inventory today I am reminded of all of my blessings; I am loved and cherished by so many close to me, my child is safe and healthy, my husband is willing and able, and so I feel relief. In my mind I replay the bike rides I took with Jack during our week in Hilton Head; I hear him laughing and singing, asking me "what happened, Mommy?" over and over again, and I know I am happy. I feel relief and happiness regardless of Brett's new job, and that is how I know we are going to be okay. Just like we have been all along, our faith strong and secure, and our love for each other still unwavering.

Maybe that's the trend. Maybe my first thought was right after all. The trend does continue.

The trend of unwavering love.

True Love is Freedom

A few weeks ago, during a classic marital spat, my husband thought to inform me that I shouldn't use PMS as a crutch for my grumpiness.  His words, "a crutch," not mine, as if I was relying on hormones to be my get out of jail free card for nagging him.  I cleverly responded that rather he should not be so quick to point out that he typically takes advantage of my tolerance levels, and that perhaps Mother Nature only draws upon the flaws of his that I more regularly overlook.  Either way, he still had to take out the trash and rub my feet.

Ahh, isn't marriage grand?

It can commonly be a battle of wills or a competition of matching wits.  Sometimes there are disagreements, and other times there are fights.  Good days and bad days, we all have them, and not every husband and wife team can realistically cheer each other up whenever a storm sets in.  In fact, not every husband and wife can be a team; I imagine there are happily married people out there who argue more than they get along, but somehow it works for them, and I say, to each his or her own!

Yeah, well, not really.

A little over 3 years into my marriage, once again I am writing about a topic of which I am no expert.  Regardless, my experience so far has been less than storybook.  Getting engaged the day your future husband loses his job, and finding out you are pregnant 3 days after he was laid off a 2nd time tends to make these kinds of life changing moments bittersweet, and the aftertaste can be brutal.  Still we got married, and still we have our son, but the journey of our marriage to this point has been about survival, not wedded bliss, and I believe we are stronger in our relationship because of it.

In the same year (2008) we tied the knot, we attended 3 other weddings; 2 of them ended less than a year later.  These are people we know; these people are our friends!  Not strangers or future Jerry Springer guests.  The year our son was born (2009) we attended 4 weddings; one of them ended in less than 2 months and another was already a 2nd marriage for the bride.  Based solely on these numbers, the odds are not looking good.

So why do I feel with 100% certainty that my marriage will not fail when I know none of those other people got married thinking theirs would either?  I honestly do not have an answer for that question.  I just do.  I suppose I have a little more life experience than some of the examples above, and maybe that gives me some sort of mature insight that helps my marriage along, but truthfully, who really knows what the future will bring? How can any of us ever predict the future?  Isn't it always just a gut feeling?  An instinct?  Or maybe just a leap of faith?

I think about my husband, all that he is, all that he does for our family.  I think of him as a friend to others, as a  brother to his, as a son, an uncle, a basic human being.  And I think of him as a lover, best friend, and most importantly as a father to our child.  All of those things make him into the husband that he is, a wonderful, loving, kind-hearted, compassionate, strong-willed, protective, easy-going, sensitive, funny and proud man.  

So a little PMS joke here and there is a small price to pay for a perfect marriage.  Or rather I guess it is perfectly imperfect, seeing as how we cope with and handle the imperfections is really what makes us perfect for each other.  And we have had a tough road, with bumps and bruises and flat out falling on our faces, but we pick ourselves and each other up and keep going, never doubting our love for each other, and always 100% committed to our family.  That's not to say we don't fight, BIG fights, little fights, everything in between fights...b/c Lord knows we have them, but sometimes those moments are exactly the kind that remind us what we have together: unconditional love.  

Someone once told me: 

"True love is freedom."  

I've spent many years pondering that thought, analyzing it upside down and backwards, evaluating its meaning in each relationship I've had along the way, and forcing it to apply when perhaps it really didn't.  I've repeated it over and over, emphasizing each word in the sentence separately, hoping maybe one manipulation of it would bring clarity and a sense of understanding to me, opening me up to really comprehend and somehow connect with it in a way that would confirm I was both in a true love and free...when clearly, looking back, I wasn't...time and time again.  That was then.

This is now.  True love is freedom.  It is a basic statement, and stressing one word in the phrase does not alter its meaning, but rather it just confirms it.  Try it.  True love is freedom.  True love is freedom.  True love is freedom.  True love is freedom.  See?

My husband lets me be me.  That is true love; that is freedom.  I am free to grow, to bloom, to change, to feel; I am not confined to one way of life or a single pattern of thinking.  I can spread my wings and explore the world both outside around me and inside my head, knowing that when I want to land safely, comfortably, securely, I can.  It is that simple.  I can be me.

And perhaps knowing that is all it takes to keep me grounded.  Maybe THAT is the answer to the original question of "why do I feel with 100% certainty that my marriage will not fail?"  We give each other freedom, and that makes ours a true love, one that will not falter, one that cannot be broken, one that will never fail, no matter what challenges we face or storms we weather or how we change as individuals along the way.

I started this piece many weeks ago (June 13th actually), and little by little I've added to it, squeezing in a few minutes to write here and there, mostly when the family is sleeping.  I was going to start a new post this morning about another chapter in our lives beginning, but then I clicked on this one, unfinished, and it just called to me for completion.  I'm pretty sure if I had tried to end it before, just to get it out of the way, that it wouldn't have gone in the direction it did, and so I am thankful for all the interruptions throughout its composition b/c I truly believe in its message, and I have found some comfort in reminding myself once again what I have in my amazing husband.

True love.  And freedom.  

Thanks, baby.  

Another One in "Parts"

Part 1: 6/28/11

To all you bloggers out there, what makes you tick?  Have you ever noticed when you are grumpy that it is harder to write?  Or maybe you are the kind who finds boundless content in the depths of your crankiness.  Well, I used to be that way, able to spit out a poem or song in minutes laced with the anger or sadness I was feeling, perfectly capturing the essence of my mood, yet still raw and honest enough to be artistic, at least in my own mind.

Not anymore. Now when I am grumpy I struggle endlessly with the concept of "if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all."  I've grown up, I guess, and I've learned to bite my tongue when it is necessary to spare someone's feelings or protect someone's privacy, and in some cases, even my own.  Like right now, I have a bone to pick, but I'm just sitting here, beating around the bush and avoiding putting in writing the irritation that is truly chiseling away at my nerves.

Or maybe that bone is just not that big a deal.  I suppose there is an alternative to my "I've grown up" theory, and really it's just that the quality of my problems has significantly improved.  Way back when I was lamenting, my life was a big fat mess, and maybe the topics I wrote about, mostly heartache and despair, were just more interesting.  Even to me!!! 

I know I write ALL THE TIME about the joys of motherhood, and the reality is that THAT is my life now.  Being a mom provides tons of new topics while opening the door to personal reflection and self discovery, but I don't seem to agonize over finding the words to express my happiness. 

It's the hard stuff that stumps me.  Trying to find a balance between expressing my true feelings and not exposing personal information is challenging, to say the least.  And the really tough part is deciding if a post is publish-worthy.  I have a gazillion posts that remain unpublished, partially b/c I haven't finished them, or I got distracted by life in the process, and partially b/c I am not so sure I want to reveal publicly some of my inner-most thoughts.  Writing in itself should be therapeutic enough for me that the publishing aspect doesn't matter, but I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy sharing what I write, especially when I have readers whose comments and feedback stroke my writing ego and encourage me to keep on with my writing goals.

Part 2: Today

And now here I am almost 2 weeks after I started this post, still trying to decide if it is worth my readers' time, and this much later, I have to admit, I don't even remember what "bone" I had to pick when I started this piece.  I guess that means whatever it was blew over and life goes on. 

Isn't that refreshing?  So often "time" is our greatest friend, healing the wounds in our hearts, and soothing the discontent in our souls.  I find that in my life these days, most of my problems are solved by waiting it out a little longer.  Hmmn...I wonder if that has more to do with that original "I've grown up" theory.  I'm not sure, but I do know today, as I sit and write the end of this post, I don't have any bones to pick or hurt feelings wandering around my mind, and that feels great!  I may be about 2 weeks older, but with age comes wisdom, right?!?!?

(Image Source: http://www.maxworkouts.com/blog/comments/whats-the-best-time-of-day-to-workout/)

32 Candles and Just 1 Wish

Today is my 32nd birthday, and although I don't feel particularly special, so many people are thinking of me and wishing me a happy day that it must be so!  I've had a pretty good day so far; I can't complain.  I was greeted this morning with a candlelit donut by GRandi, Mr. McQ gave me a card and orchestrated another one given to me by Jack, my co-worker surprised me with a special fruit tart mini pastry breakfast, and then at lunch time I got to indulge in an AMAZING German Chocolate Cake from my company.  In a word the first half of today was "SWEET!" 

In an email from my mother this morning, she wrote:

6/30/1979

Brooke Lee

11:28 AM

6 pounds 15 ounces

20 ½ inches long

BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL!!!! 

Every year my mom writes these same birth stats on a card or in an email or on gift wrapping or somewhere so that I can read them and be reminded of how much she loves me and will forever cherish the day I was born.  In recent years these little birthday "notes" have become more meaningful to me, as I am a mother now too.  The birth of your child is just such an overwhelmingly emotional event, and I am deeply touched by my own mother's expressed memory of my birth.  This year I thanked HER for having me!

Being a mom is the most rewarding experience in my life, but it also means my life now, at age 32, is significantly different from what it was before I had my son.  Everything I do and every decision I make now is ultimately considered in terms of "is this right for Jack?"  Sometimes it can seem like my life is not my own anymore, like my dreams and wishes are no longer just for me, but rather for him, and in reality becoming a parent changes your dreams and wishes too. 

Growing up, when I would blow out my birthday candles, I would close my eyes and think really hard about what I wanted the most, and chances were that it was a toy already wrapped and waiting for me b/c I had probably requested it a million times.  I'm sure there were a few wishes for pets in there, and later I added trips to the beach with friends or other similar experiences.  As a  teenager I wished for boyfriends to love me and for my parents to let me do stuff, or just not to find out about things I was already doing!  And as a younger adult, I definitely wished for materialistic things and more money.  In my 20s I wished to get married, but still most of my wishes were personal, selfish, all about me.

Not anymore, folks.  Being Jack's mom is my biggest wish come true!  So now, all of my wishes are for him - birthday wishes included!  This year my cake may hold 32 candles, but in my heart I have just 1 wish.  I wish for my child to be all around healthy.

Last week I read an article about grown ups who have what would be considered text book "happy" lives ending up in counseling b/c they had "perfect" parents.  One of the main points of the article was that most parents have the best of intentions and their parenting choices are often related to what they believe will make their children "happy," but in making them "happy" they may prevent them from learning necessary coping skills and deprive them of basic self confidence and independence needed in adulthood.  By never allowing their children to experience disappointment or failure they are actually doing them a disservice.  In short, the conclusion is that as a parent you don't have to be perfect when "good enough" may be better in the long run.

Now I think that last sentence could easily be taken out of context, so let me go ahead and clarify here that I am not agreeing with the idea that "good enough" parenting is the way to go, nor am I saying that I strive only to be "good enough" myself as a parent, but I am saying that I can see potential harm in being overly concerned with making your children "happy" when keeping them"healthy" is clearly the more important goal.  So for my birthday wish I want my son to be healthy...in every sense of the word.  I want him to be emotionally, physically, successfully, socially, happily, mentally, whatever "else-ly" H-E-A-L-T-H-Y!  Every kind of healthy possible, well I want him to have it!  That is my birthday wish!

I promise, as his mom, to do my best to help make that wish come true.  And maybe, in 30 years, 1 month and 4 days, on his 32nd birthday, Jack will be just as touched as I was by reading his own mother's little birthday note to him, saying:

8/4/2009

Jack Patrick

4:44 PM

8 pounds 3.6 ounces

20 inches long

BEAUTIFUL BABY BOY!!!!

 

The Train to Dreamland

"Chugga-chugga choo-choo...

Night-night to you...

We're gonna ride the train to Dreamland..."

This is the song I sing at bedtime to my sweet Jack-Bo.  He loves trains, so I made up this soft and soothing little lullaby that I just repeat over and over again as his eyelids slowly become heavy until at last, they finally shut, and he enters into dreamland.  I watch his chest rise and fall as his breathing becomes deep and steady, and when I hear him start to snore, I know he is truly asleep.  It is such a peaceful and special moment I get to experience night after night. 

We have a family bed.  Oh, yes...with 2 adults, 1 toddler, 2 dogs and a cat, The McQ Zoo can snuggle like mad!  Typically, Jack-Bo sleeps in the middle, while the dogs nestle respective to their size between mine and Mr McQ's legs, and the cat tends to hover around the top of my pillow or curl up underneath my outside arm.  It can be so comforting to go to bed, especially on a cold night, draped in flannel sheets with all the warmth enveloping us as we enter a peaceful dreamland together.

And sometimes it can be torture.  All those legs and paws interfering with anyone's ability to stretch out, too much body heat and not enough air conditioning, the ever so unfortunate allergy inducing inhalation of pet hair, the growling snores of Mr. McQ and our little dog, Tug, contributing to my insomnia, my child gripping me like his own personal security blanket with no regard for my own need to change position for the sake of my aching back or crooked neck, and the occasional accidental spilled milk, leaky diaper or yes, even hairballs...these are all sources of periodic frustration which often lessen our quality of sleep...but still, we have no intentions of changing our ways.

I have not done extensive research on the pros and cons of a family bed.  I have skimmed articles here and there about supposed "sleep training" or whatever you want to call the process of putting your child to bed, and I read one book I hated, but that's about it.  I am not a doctor, or a therapist or a sleep specialist; I am just a mom who enjoys writing and sharing my experiences with others. If you don't agree with my opinions or MO, it really is okay.  I'm perfectly happy to agree to disagree b/c I hold firmly to the overall principle that you have to do what works for your family. 

The McQ Zoo family bed works for mine...for now.

It's not perfect. It is certainly not always easy, and maybe most importantly, it is not forever.  I give us the right to change our minds at any point in the future.  In fact, what has worked for us so far has changed several times already over the last 22 months of parenthood, and I think one of the main lessons I have learned is that in our family, flexibility is the key to success.  I'm not saying it is right or wrong; that's just how we roll.  ;)

Before our son was born, and before we had our dogs, and before we were married or even living together, my cat slept with me every night.  Then we got the 1st dog and Mr. McQ and I moved in together around the same time, at which point our intentions were to crate the dog.  Mr. McQ, being the sap that he is, could not bear to put his sweet O'Della in the crate before going to bed, so he slept most nights on the sofa with the idea in his head that if he wasn't in the actual bed it didn't count as letting the dog sleep with us.  Eventually this created some resentment :-) from his future wife, so Della was crated, and she did surprisingly well.

Then we bought the condo (Why-oh-why did we do that?  Another story for another post.), and after a late night housewarming party Della regressed and began crying during the night from within her lonely crate.  Mr. McQ just couldn't take her whining, so that night he got out of bed and cuddled with her again on the couch.  The next day he told me that he wanted her to be able to sleep with us, and the decision was made to say good-bye to night-time crating.

Then we got married and added Tug to the mix.  Since he had already spent his whole life caged, we attempted to confine him to a gated area with puppy pads, but after a few months of very challenging potty training, we gave up and resorted to the crate...but from the day we brought him home, Tug slept in our bed with us and the other animals.  My sister made a comment about how people are with their pets is indicative of how they will be with their children, implying that we would most certainly have a family bed when our time to be parents finally came.



Daddy gazing at Jack-Bo on one of our first nights home

 And she was right.  We planned for our baby's introduction to our bed by setting up a cozy little close sleeper device that was just the right size for him, with short, soft barriers on all sides and a special little mattress pad especially for him.  We called it "the box."  We placed it in the middle of the bed between our pillows and night after night we just stared at him, marveling in how safe he was with us, and how wonderful we felt to be together as a family.  For awhile we shooed the dogs and cat away every time they came near for first-time parent fears of germs or pet hair invading his safe little sleep space, but on more than one occasion we entered our room to find either Tug or Sebastian curled up in the box, sleeping soundly and looking pretty adorable.  We decided it just meant they loved Jack-Bo too, and we relaxed about it.

Jack and Earth Bunny in the 2nd "box"

Jack-Bo outgrew the box quickly, consistently being in the 95th percentile or above in height, and once he was too long for it, we replaced it with a contoured changing pad, which was longer but still the same width.  He grew out of that too, and once he could roll over on his own, we put him directly between us.  I was still nursing, so this was very convenient, although I was struggling to get the sleep I needed. 

When Jack-Bo was around 7 months, we got to a point at which we entertained the idea of introducing him to his crib.  After a night of a solid 2 hours listening to him cry while crying myself, we decided this was not for us.  We planned to try again in a few more months.  Some time went by, and as we agreed, we tried again, creating a bedtime routine of dinner, bath and books, and then I would nurse him almost to sleep and place him into his crib.  He slept through the night maybe twice, but for a few weeks we had inconsistent results.  Any time he woke up we would bring him into our bed, primarily b/c he was still nursing.  Then, for his 1st birthday he got a toddler bed.  We stuck to our routine, but we stayed with him until he fell asleep so he couldn't get out of bed.  Some nights were better than others, sometimes taking over an hour before he would finally drift off.  Still, when he would wake up in the middle of the night, we would just bring him back into our bed.

So it may seem like we were creating our own problems by bringing him into our bed when he would wake up, but our reasons for trying him out in his own bed never had anything to do with not wanting him to sleep with us in the first place.  Mostly it had to do with wanting to provide him with the most uninterrupted sleep possible.  At first we recognized he was taking fewer naps throughout the day and needing to go to bed earlier in the evening, but we worried about him alone in the big bed, even though we had rails up.  Then it was more about needing to be able to use the computer in our bedroom after he was already asleep.  Having him in his own room meant we could go in and out of our bedroom freely without worrying that we would wake him.

We stuck with this routine for several months, and it seemed to work out okay for us.  We put him down in his room and then brought him into ours in the middle of the night.  He rarely cried.  He just woke up and called for us to come get him.  We put a child protector cover over his doorknob so he could not come out of his room by himself, so most nights he would be standing at the door waiting for one of us to pick him up and snuggle him into our family bed.  It was typically anywhere between 1 and 3AM.

Considering that we like our family bed, more recently we have changed our approach again.  Jack will still take naps in his toddler bed, but of course someone always has to lay with him until he falls asleep.  It is one thing for 5 foot 2 inch Mommy to squish into that tiny bed with him, but when a 6 foot 2.5 inch Daddy is crammed up against a wall surrounded by stuffed animals and blankies, it is rather hilarious.  Both of us were starting to feel the physical effects of our bedtime routine in the form of aches and pains.  We are getting way too old to contort our bodies to fit into such a small space!  Now, we are back to just putting Jack to bed in our family bed, and it is so much more comfortable.

Another advantage of our family bed is that often I can fall asleep with Jack, which means I get to temporarily overcome my insomnia and catch up on some much needed Z's.  Of course it also means I miss out on doing laundry and blogging and watching TV; but there is no sweeter way to fall asleep than spooning with my precious boy, his heavy head resting under my chin, his little tushie pressed against my belly, our legs curled up together, and his small but strong hand holding mine as my arm rests across his lower back as I'm holding him close.

And on the nights I don't fall asleep with him, I get back up and get on with whatever else I need to do, and we have figured out that the typing and noise from the computer doesn't even interrupt him, b/c the truth is, he sleeps better, more deeply, and most comfortably in our family bed.  In fact, he sleeps through the night.  We all do.

I can honestly say our intention when we have another baby is to make room for one more in our family bed, but maybe by then Jack will be more agreeable to going to bed in his room like a "big boy," or else perhaps the new baby will adjust to the pack n' play and be more used to sleeping in a crib-like setting from the beginning.  I do not know how it will turn out, but I am certain that The McQ Zoo will spend a lot of time over the next few years squeezing together into our family bed.  I imagine there will come a time when it will be necessary to make the transition, but until then, we'll just be flexible when we can and do what works for us.

Kids grow up so fast.  My child is already independent in so many ways; the sleep independence will come when the time is right for him, and I am in no rush for it.  So for now, we'll keep on keepin' on just the way we are going, riding the train to dreamland together...The McQ Zoo way.

The love our family shares is exceptional! 

American Idol-ology Part II

And the winner...

...of American Idol...

...Season 10...

...is...

(drum roll please)...

SCOTTY!!!!!!!!!!

In the words of Stephen Tyler, “Well, hellfire, save matches, f*** a duck and see what hatches!”  But I am not surprised.  Not even a little bit.  Scotty winning just further supports my theory about the voting audience.  It is my opinion that the majority of calling voters are girls between the ages of 8 and 14 years old.  Closely following are the 15 to 17 year old "late bloomer" girls, who are slightly less mature than some of their peers, but even as a smaller overall number of voters, they are equally as influential in the polls as their younger co-viewers due to their heightened access to phones and computers.  I have nothing to base my theory on other than guesswork and common sense. 

I believe that 8 to 14 year old girls will typically vote for who is most like them; this is why Lauren made it so far and Pia was knocked out so early.  Although Pia and Lauren sang different genres of music (Lauren = Country, Pia = Pop Ballads), their preference of positive, easy-listening, basically conservative music puts them in almost the same voting category, so if a more mature audience drawn to that type of music is failing to pick up the phone, and the 8 to 14 year olds are dialing for the one most closely resembling their own peers, the younger contestant is bound to get the votes.

Where does that leave Thia?  Ashton?  Nowhere - young or not, neither of them were "special," and even young viewers can figure that out, so don't go thinking their early departures throw a wrench in my analysis.

And what about Hayley?  Well, Hayley was all over the map in her song choices.  Clearly her talent was special, but often her performances were what I consider to be "misunderstood" by the younger, less mature audience.  Hayley is sexy.  Lauren is cute.  Pia is elegant, princess-esque even.  Most young girls are more drawn to cute and elegant, so if elegant is out, and only cute and sexy are left, the 8 to 14 year old female audience is obviously leaning towards cute, a.k.a. Lauren.

Okay, so enter the male talent.  Girls are boy crazy, and most boy crazy girls I believe to be voting are in that 15 to 17 "late bloomers" range.  James is sexy.  Edgy AND sexy.  His bad boy, rocker, comedic personality is what made him sexy.  The other guys (besides Scotty) were not sexy.  Not at all.  Here come my critiques...

Stefano - short, squinty eyes, but charming and sweet, kind of like an older David Archuletta.

Jacob - no comment

Paul - cute, some sex appeal, but young girls would probably think he is "old," and his chicken wing dance sometimes makes him look like he might be a little "iffy."

Casey - CRAZY talented, hilarious, funny looking, cursed (nice guys finish last)

And then you have Scotty...too young for the "grown up audience" (like myself) to think he is "sexy," but too special to not be recognized by the voters who actually know what talent is.  Country music or not, his charming and genuine personality is all "what you see is what you get."  I never felt played by him, even when his facial expressions were goofy, and when he sang a song, he told a story, every time he was on the stage.  Eat your heart out 15 to 17 year old girls!

James and Scotty are complete opposites...not just in the way of music genres either.  Scotty comes from a solid, all American family.  He is healthy, controlled, has integrity, and his upbringing has very clearly influenced the young man he is becoming.  James comes from a dysfunctional family, he has some health issues that have played a big role in his confidence level, and he is on his own with a family to support and struggling financially just as much as he is struggling personally to find his place in the world.  Nothing about him is grounded.  Nothing about him is controlled.  Well, except for that unbelievable vibrato in his superstar vocal abilities...

Some girls like a man who is in control...and some prefer a bad boy, living on the edge and free-spirited.  Most likely the ones who are disciplined and care enough to pick up a phone or make sure they get to a computer are the ones more on the straight and narrow path in life, and therefore they are likely Scotty fans. 

Then there are the many moms like me who LOVE James!  Fans of 80's and 90's music and rock n' roll, appreciating the talent and the sexy vibes he brings to the stage, touched by his emotional background, and secretly pining over him...yes, I said pining...seriously, did you see him cry???  Multiple times???  Oh, I so HEART James!

Every week I had intentions to vote.  Every week, I knew who I would pick.  Every week, I voted...except one week...the week James was eliminated.  I fell asleep with my son while putting him to bed and never got back up to cast my vote.  I will jointly accept responsibility for his exit with the rest of the moms who meant to vote but got distracted by mom things. 

Another piece of this is that when one Idol leaves, their votes are redistributed among the remaining contestants.  In the case of James, I'd say the Casey fans probably gravitated between him and Hayley, but the Jacob fans were likely NOT James fans at all.  They probably steered their votes down the road of the more gospel-ish music, like our country boy and his little southern belle, or just as possibly they gravitated towards the soulful Hayley...but I doubt too many Jacob fans put their money on James and his "give metal a chance" mantra.

So back to my overall theory about the 8 to 14 year old voting audience.  Once James was eliminated, most of those 8 to 14 year old girls were voting for Lauren, so bye bye Hayley.  The 15 to 17 year old "late bloomers" were half and half between Scotty and Lauren, some choosing their peer, and others choosing their newest crush.  The Jacob fans were probably split.  The James fans were probably mostly split, although I will say that Lauren's song to her Mother was really touching, and I bet she appealed to a lot of those James-adoring, had-intentions-to-vote moms (I swear I meant to get online after the finale performance show, but mommyhood was calling!)...the Hayley fans were probably partially a more mature audience, with a less emphatic rush to vote, but the ones who did could have gone either way.

So why did Scotty win?  Why, when it seems like the majority of the votes would point to Lauren?  Because in the end, Lauren was supposed to win.  After her last performance, it was her title to lose!  Moms were crying over her song, but moms are busy.  Lauren fans were making predictions, but they got complacent about voting.  And Scotty fans were called out by the challenge to fight for the win and vote harder and longer than ever before. 

And that is where those 15 to 17 year old boy crazy "late bloomer" girls come in!  Although I think the main voting audience is girls ages 8 to 14, my theorized 2nd audience group is more likely to have access to phones and computers, more likely to be up later at night casting multiple votes while their younger co-viewers are being tucked into bed by the moms who are also missing their voting opportunity, and more likely to pick the gentlemanly boy next door, probably following him all along, and now being put to the test by the judges who predicted that Lauren had a slight edge over Scotty.  Well, they gave Scotty the push right over that edge into the winner's circle!

And there ya have it, folks, my American Idol-ology follow up.  (Click here to see the original American Idol-ology.)  Oh, and to what do you think I attribute those record breaking voting numbers?  Yep - the new judging panel!  Seriously, the talent was there this year, once they got more than half of that top 13 out of there, the rest really did deliver week after week, but man, the judges!  J-Lo came to life every time she spoke.  Stephen was both entertaining and sincere.  Randy was classic and classy.  I hope they all come back next season.  I hope the dynamics stay the same so the focus can continue to be on the talent, encouraging more people to watch and dream big as opposed to offending them and crushing their hopes and spirits. 

My next prediction is this: Scotty and Lauren will be the new (and youngest!) country power couple, following in the footsteps of Tim McGraw and Faith Hill.  Um, yes, I think they are definitely an item.  Did you see the way she planted him with those kisses and how genuinely happy she was for him?  Did you hear the "I love you, baby" and the rest of his heart felt expression towards her and their journey together?  I don't have a theory on how that was kept out of the media buzz; I'm baffled by it actually, and I get that there are rules and a code of conduct among the contestants, but I am still shocked that I didn't hear any rumors or get a sense prior to the finale.  Anyway, this is a whole new blog topic...which I will skip b/c I am not Perez Hilton. 

I am just a music fan and former American Idol 2-time tryer-outer.

And that, my friends...is a wrap!