Dear Xanga,

I have known you for a long time, almost three years.  And during that time I have come to expect more from you than the attitude you have given me lately.  When I log on, there are a million changes I have to navigate through to figure out my own page.  When I email customer service to take care of glitches or errors on my page, I get a snarky answer from some intern who obviously doesn't know what they're doing.  I am PAYING for this.  Unbelievable.  And honestly, Xanga, you had it coming. I'll not waste my time with you anymore.

So I guess this is the end.  And really, let's just be honest.  We can't even be friends.  It would just be awkward at this point.  So my friends and readers who have logged in through Xanga before to read the family updates are welcome to bookmark our new page directly at www.morozfamily.com  Xanga, really, it's not you--it's me.  I just need more and there's no way you can provide that.  Call me high maintenece, tell all your blog friends I was a crappy writer, whatever makes you feel better.  But for me, I'm moving on.  Good bye!

Sincerely,

Kari Moroz

Darling, isn't she?  Take one last look at the sweetness, because yesterday she said her first sentence.  It propelled me into reality, and I became fully aware that she is not a sweet, compliant, innocent baby anymore.  It shocked me, not because she's *finally* talking, or because she's growing up (I enjoy toddlerhood more than the infant stage) But because she said to me...and I quote:

"NO!  Don't want to!"

My little lady is no longer sunshine and lollipops.  I mean, sure she has her moments...but we are now being ushered into the dark cave that is the Terrible Two's.  And this my friends, is God's way of preparing us parents for Junior High. So when your toddler is throwing the mother of all tantrums in the middle of Target, or coloring with permanent marker on the top of her toybox, or is refusing to go to sleep unless she's wearing her crocs to bed, (yes, all three of those occurances happened yesterday in my house) just be thankful that at two they're still so darned cute. 

Sorry I'm not updating like I should.  Tee ball and the school year ending and just life in general is so busy.

Chris and I cleaned the whole house yesterday and it feels soooo good!  We're not knick-knack/clutter people so more than anything it was just doing laundry, putting away dishes, and getting rid of the kiddie clutter.  Lots of toys found their home back in the playroom.  Nice. 

Gracie got to third base at tee ball before her team had three outs.  This is progress! She still skips to first base, which is definitely not really a competitive edge, but she tries her hardest out there and I am proud of her.  She smells like strawberry lip gloss and has started carrying a purse pretty much all the time.  My little mini me!

Trinity's had a language explosion!  She says everything now, she will repeat and we can actually tell what she's saying about 70% of the time.  =) My favorite thing right now is when she says "I sorry" and hugs her sister.  So sweet. 

I freaked out last night about my reconstruction.  There's this moment of the process that terrifies me more than anything else, it's the waking up from surgery.  When I am still drowsy from the anesthesia and the nurse comes and lays her cold hand on my arm and says in a disturbing, urgent, irritating kind of way, "Kari?  Can you hear me?  Wake up, you're in recovery.  We are done with your surgery." My eyes open and I become aware of my surroundings.  And then the pain becomes intolerable.  I cry because it hurts so bad.  I regret waking up, but they won't let me close my eyes.  They ask me ridiculous questions like "do you know where you are? and on a scale of 1-10, what's your pain level?" I answer "in the hospital and 12." Monitors beep out of my line of sight and nurses bustle around me, preparing to move me into the next room to see my family.  I want to see them, but I'm torn between facing them and the pain or being in heaven with God.  Believe me it is a struggle.  Because the pain is intolerable and nothing, not even my precious family could compare to how wonderful it would be to just be rid of this body and this pain. I do carry on, I will recover-- but the road ahead is long and full of agony.  I have to believe it's worth it or I wouldn't opt to do the surgery.  But it's still scary, much scarier to me than any of the previous treatments.  I don't know why, that's just how I feel.