Happy New Year, Friends! It's been a while since I've been blogging. Noelle, m.s.inspired, and life have really kept me busy the past few months! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season, and that you all have a fantastic 2014. I am certain that 2014 will be a great year for our family and look forward to what it will bring very much!

A while ago my mom wrote this short essay that she shared with my sister and me. In the spirit of the New Year and the hundreds of thousands of people who will make a resolution to lose weight, eat better, be  healthier, etc. I thought it would be the perfect time to share it with you all (with mom's permission of course).

My wish for you this New Year is to be happy, whatever that is for you.

There are two things I love about reading Mallory's posts about motherhood. First, they usually include adorable photos of Noelle. What Cammy doesn't like that! And, secondly, they remind me of my experiences raising Mallory and Erica. The latest entry about sleeping through the night brought back a lot of memories. Steve was so adamant about this issue. A stranger might have thought he was obsessed with parenting and looked forward to sharing his observations and learnings with others for the betterment of society. But actually he was really just tired.

A similar issue and one shared by most parents everywhere throughout time is the issue of the pacifier. To use or not to use. And, perhaps more importantly, how to get rid of it! With both girls, this painful ritual was kicked off with a visit to the dentist (who takes enough flack, not to mention getting bit by kids; but we did kick the dentist right under the bus on this one).

Anyway, with Mallory, we made our first dentist visit at which time the dentist offered the caution that, over time, the pacifier would possibly cause problems with alignment and that would not be good. The whole way home in the car, we talked about the visit and that, sadly, it was probably time to say farewell to the "bubby." I actually made Mallory go to her room, get the bubby and, while I lifted the lid on the trash can in the garage, she threw it in while I chanted (like a mantra) "the dentist said we have to get rid of the bubby."

That night was AWFUL. The end.

*You can view Cammy's first edition here.

This is a very exciting post for me to share.

I have always hoped that one day I'll be a great writer like my mom, and I really enjoy practicing on this blog. So, when she approached me about being a guest contributor I was thrilled! She is funny, honest, sarcastic, and tells stories better than almost anyone I know. She just has a way with words that I will probably never be able to duplicate or inherit. I tell my mom all of the time that she should blog or write a book - something. The only downfall to having her write is that you can't hear the tone of how she would actually tell her story ... hmm ... video blogging, mom, now that's what we need to do! Until then though, hopefully she'll continue to chase us, and write passages for me to share with you.

And, without further ado, my mom's premier guest contributing blog entry. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did :)

Steve and I are excited for Noelle's arrival and have our first assignment: zoom off to Chicago to rescue Halas while Mal and Dave are at the hospital!  If we can handle Halas, we'll get a shot at Noelle!

All of this got me to thinking and I owe a really BIG apology to the pioneers.  Being first is hard and, honestly, I haven't fully appreciated managing the tasks of daily living in a long, heavy, cotton skirt or finding California without a global positioning system!  But now that I have to be a grandma long distance, like many of my friends do, I find myself pioneering, too.

Look, I grew up at the tail end of "happy days." Then along came Title IX and I had to take girls' athletics seriously, go to college AND get a job, go back to work after the girls were born, watch the economy tank forcing them to leave Michigan to chase their future, and forego fully enjoying my role as doting grandma the way my Grandma did.  Meanwhile, I'm going to live longer, but my joints and memory won't last longer, leaving me with the prospect of yet another frontier:  how to optimize this gift of time.

Sure, we can Skype.  But Skype is not a hug.  Yes, we can travel.  But this isn't a tricycle ride around the block.  And sorry Youtube and Facebook, but you're not a substitute for the noon-time polka in my Grandma's kitchen or a car ride three blocks to school with my Grandpa.

Good thing I haven't found golf perfection.  I'll need something to chase, too.