Dancing in the rain is kinda hard when you have 80 mph wind gusts

Dear Sandy,

You’ve left a path of chaos and destruction. You were one vicious storm. I learned about two tragic occurrences. A mother lost both of her toddlers by powerful wave currents in Staten Island. I also read about two kids in Westchester who lost their lives by a fallen tree on their neighborhood’s sidewalk. My thoughts and prayers go out for those affected to such a devastating degree. It’s heartbreaking that families have been ripped apart by you, Irene, Katrina and so many other hurricanes in the past. I was one of those simply inconvenienced with power outages. I’m not undermining your wrath towards us, but those who suffered major damages and flooding to their home and/or business weren’t as fortunate. You came and went with a vengeance, and the northeast must deal with the aftermath. No heat, spoiled food, cold water, no modern day technology, being cooped up for days, trying to keep little ones entertained, major gas shortages and so forth.

Blogging during physical and emotional exhaustion isn’t a pretty sight. Here I am unshowered, complete with dark circles, messy hair, an overwhelmed mind and a heavy heart. A teeny tiny glimpse of what I look like when I’m “walking through the storm”

By the way, are you familiar with your competition: lies, deception, arrogance, selfishness, ignorance and narrow-mindedness?

You may be fierce, but nothing compares to the strength of a cruel and cold heart. Sandy, I wish you were the only storm there was to deal with.

As if you weren’t a handful, some of us had to confront the metaphoric ones this week also. The kind which come way too close and cripple our spirit. No meteorologist could ever predict or prepare one for this category 5 destruction. It’s devastating when a loved one holds your hand for a moment and just lets go. With every ounce of adrenaline, one reaches out as far as possible. Sadly, the person on the other end doesn’t make the same effort. If only they were just as determined to stretch their fingers an extra half an inch.

After the cries for help are ignored, survival mode kicks in. The struggle to save oneself and the ones we care for is a brutal uphill battle. We are at the mercy of the harsh conditions. Sandy, you are despised by so many, but don’t think for one second you are stealing this storm’s thunder. Haven’t you ever heard the phase, “when it rains it pours?”  You may be one tough gal, but you never fight alone. In a scale of short term to long term destruction, life’s grueling dark moments goes off the charts. Materialistic pocessions can eventually be restored and replaced in time. People, on the other hand, can’t. Once they’re gone, it’s too late to repair the damage. No point in saying “shoulda, coulda, woulda”. Suffering through serious heartache is far more detrimental than you Sandy. It’s quite possible more people have been mistreated, hurt and placed in life threatening situations due to human nature rather than “mother nature”.

Wet, cold and infuriated

p.s – I will get back on my feet, and so will the rest of us. After all, there must first be rain in order to have a rainbow. With storms like you Sandy and Mister I-don’t-care-about-how-much-we’ve-been-hit, we can only hope for a brighter and bigger arch. One day.


stained carpet, broken heart, zombies and fall boots. what a week!

This was meant for Sunday, and three days I’m finally able to post.

Needless to say, it was the mother of all jam-packed weeks.

So much has happened. As usual, these past seven days had it’s bitter moments. It also had some sweet ones too. Here is a (small) glimpse of what my week looked like.

Because looking at my little girl on a post about not-so-pleasant things, makes me smile.


  • Maybe this should go under the category of funny/ borderline not-so-funny mommy stories. My fifteen month old is the epitome of blissfully happy when she’s in her birthday suit. So as usual, I allow her to run around sans-diaper a couple of minutes before bath time. She’s shrieking and singing, and then completely silent. Very curiously, my husband asks “What did you give Izzie to play with?”. I wasn’t too concerned because I assumed it was some kind of tupperware. Nope. I was so very wrong. Not even close. What could of been a dirty diaper, turned out to be a disaster. I don’t want the TMI reaction, so I’ll conclude as discreetly as possible. It’s safe to say, my carpet and daughter’s hands are (now) cleaner than ever.
  • The example above is so trivial and light hearted in comparison to a loved one in deep pain. It was the worst and most critical situation I had to confront this week. It broke me in a million pieces that I couldn’t do more. All the empathy, listening, comforting and supporting couldn’t change the damage. I’m no physic or modern day prophet, but I saw this coming. I anticipated it and shared the cry for help, Unfortunately, those tears went down the drain and one of my fears became reality. My dearest (you know who you are), your sorrow is also mine because you are a piece of my heart.


  • I actually found the first pair of fall boots for Izabella. I was looking for a size 3 which is comparable to finding a needle in a haystack. She has the tiniest of feet (like her mama), and fashionable shoes usually run two sizes waaaayyy too big. So when I found these at The Children’s Place, I grabbed the last pair like a crazy, mad woman. Mind you, they’re a size 4 and a little too roomy. So we’ll have to use thick socks, but at least she won’t outgrow them anytime soon. I think they’re cute. By the way she proudly paraded around with them, I think she agrees.
  • The new season of The Walking Dead started last week. I’m very partial to zombie anything, but this thriller series is anything but typical. The concept is incredibly creative and the plot is meticulously written. It’s filled with action, drama, and edge-of-your-seat suspense. If you have little ones, I have one word for you: DVR. (It contains violence, some language and gore). Plus, the scary scenes are a perfect excuse to cuddle with your lover. Even if it is at home. And it’s only for an hour. Hey, I’ll take it :)

Tomorrow is a new day. A fresh start. A hope for one better than the last. However, Mondays get a bad reputation, and with good reason. So here’s a little mantra for the most dreaded day of the week.

Now repeat after me…

May my monday be peaceful, and not mayhem. Filled with a little less deadlines and a bit more grace.

That officially concludes my bittersweet Sunday post.

Until next time,



It’s some how mid october! How on earth did that happen? Before you know it, the Christmas decorations will be up. Okay now I’m getting ahead of myself. I still haven’t even carved any pumpkins or baked an apple pie. Which by the way, is still on my to-do-list. I’m in awe of how quickly the season has changed. Both literally and figuratively. Yesterday, I pulled out Izabella’s hats only to realize she’d outgrown all of them. Talk about a reality check! So I’m on the mission to buy cute outer wear and boots for the little one. Yay for autumn shopping!

In true writer’s fashion, I will take a sip of coffee and roll up my sleeves. It’s Bittersweet Sunday, so it’s time to ponder on my past seven days.


I experienced several anxiety attacks, followed by episodes of depression. I’m no stranger with these disorders, because I’ve struggled since my pre-teen years. Nonetheless, It still feels like the first time. every time. It’s debilitating and sucks the life out of me. Ever ran really fast? You know that out-of-breath feeling? Your heart going a million beats per second. Ever felt so nervous, you could puke? How about that weak, almost fainting symptom of a high fever? Now imagine a three hundred pound man sitting on your chest. That is (in a few short words), what anxiety feels like. This “flight versus fight” response is our primitive survival mechanism. Perfect when confronted by a grizzly bear or escaping a building on fire. Not when you’re safely at home feeding your young toddler. That adrenaline rush eventually results in a humongous crash landing (aka: depression). It’s a dark, lonely, hopeless place.

Two words: Anxiety and depression. Enough said.


Sometimes when I’m in that valley, seeing my dear daughter’s milestones is a ray of light. For instance, this week she learned how to a blow a kiss. Oh my word! It was one of the sweetest things I’ve experienced as a mommy. Especially when it’s followed with even more affection from this child of mine. She rested her head ever so perfectly in that space between my chin and shoulder. Then my girl looks up at me with those beautiful hazel eyes and says “ma-ma” with a grin from ear to ear. I know parenthood can sometimes feel altered. Even though every other child in the universe learns and grows, we feel our baby’s first (fill in the blank) is unique and monumental. I acknowledge to being biased, but my Izzie is one receptive, emotionally intelligent baby. It’s almost like she was trying to cheer me up. Call me crazy, but she accomplished what she set out to do.

My darling blowing kisses all the time now. I could get used to this.

Tomorrow Today (it’s 1:18 am…yawn), is officially the dreaded day of the week. So I will conclude my bittersweet sunday post as usual. Here are my wishes for you. A little mantra written by yours truly.

May your monday be peaceful, and not mayhem. Filled with a little less deadlines and a bit more grace.

Cheers to a new week! Hopefully a sweet one.