Don't Call It A Comeback, I've Been Here For... Oh, You Know...

Welcome, welcome, one and all! It's that time, once again: Time to play "Lather, Rinse, Repeat", in which I outline all of the various adventures of the recent-past into neat, bulleted, yet still totally useless form. Strap on your adventure shoes, because away we go...

* Last week we attended the Open House for Jack's preschool, which officially begins tomorrow. It was so sweet to see him get so ramped up about going, I nearly went into spasms of denial. My child. Is going to school. Okay, it's preschool, and it's only twice a week and only half a day... but still! Teachers? They talked at me. Like I was a parent. Like teachers used to talk to MY parents. I wanted to scream "Stop treating me like a responsible adult! Do you want to see my tattoo? DO YOU?! Are you prepared to be responsible for my hair returning to an ungodly shade of purple so that I can cling to my desperately dwindling, misbegotten youth?!!!" But I didn't. I smiled, and nodded, and pointed out the awesome playground dinosaur slide to Jack - who squealed in delight and damn near chewed his way through the chain link fence in order to reach that playground mecca of pure joy.

So preschool starts tomorrow. I still have my fears that mine will be the kid who gets sent home the first day for messing in his pants in the first five minutes, or that he'll scream for his Me-Me until they are forced to call me and ask What, for the love of pete, is a "Me-Me"??? (his security blanket)

Or, worst of all, that he'll have such a good time he won't miss me AT ALL and when I come to pick him up he'll tell me to go away and can't I see that he is trying to play with that cute blond girl who was about to let him sit on the beanbag seat next to her? But alas.. All a Mama can do is check for fresh batteries in the camera, pack a photo in his Thomas the Tank Engine backpack (so he remembers what I look like by noon) and hope for the best. And maybe hit the mall for a consolation latte at Starbucks.

* That thing I can't talk about? Still can't talk about it. It's percolating, though, and I'll talk about it soon. Now stop asking. Seriously. Else I will be forced to start vLogging video of my dog attempting to eat dirty diapers or something equally horrific. Amen.

* Toby has reached a new level of cuteness. His sense of humor is contagious, and he smiles so much more easily now. And last night? Last night we put him to bed an hour earlier than usual (7pm instead of 8pm) and I'll be darned... he slept until 8am this morning. 13 HOURS, PEOPLE! 13 blissful hours, and no nursing this morning. My littlest bean is growing up...

Just don't ask me about his first birthday in two weeks. Unless, of course, you enjoy listening to hiccuping sobs and snorty sniffles broken up by intermittent, indiscernible wailing. I'm not ready for my baby to stop being a baby. The cord may have been cut 11.5 months ago, but he is still firmly attached to my insides. Especially right around my chest... it gets sore every time he moves on to the next milestone. I think I developed a small heart murmer yesterday, when he clapped and quite possibly said the dog's name. We're not sure. It may have just been a hiccup...

* Oh, yes...The dog... For all his inconsistent potty success and bad habits, and his refusal to venture outside on his own if the temperature drops below beach weather, Gizmo has wormed his way firmly into my heart. He is a stubborn, mischevious, manipulative little ball of hair and muscle and very sharp little teeth... and somehow, he has bamboozled me into adoring him. So much so that I just spent half an hour finding a pattern to sew him a little doggy coat to keep him warm when we go out to potty at sunrise. I might even make him a halloween costume.

I may need to mention this in therapy.

* Last but not least, I got my copy of Arianna Huffington's new book, "On Becoming Fearless... In Love, Work, and Life" and I will be reviewing it in the next week or so, once I have finished reading it and had time to absorb. So far, I am riveted - partly because it is well written, includes contributions from the likes of Nora Ephron and Diane Keaton, and it makes a lot of very intelligent references... and partly because the subject matter is so incredibly timely for my life right now. I don't always agree with the Huff, but I never fail to admire the woman for her solid brass cajones. If she has a spare pair I could borrow for a while, I think I could enjoy going after what I want from time to time - without letting the crippling doubts stop me before I've started. Note to Arianna: If you need a new part-time flunky who works remotely, grills you incessantly about good literature, and will never forget to tell you that you have spectacular hair? I am soooo your girl.

* Recent lapses notwithstanding, I am, most definitely, back. Rev up those feed readers, baby...