Brain Dump.

Let me state up front that this post is not guaranteed to make any sort of cohesive sense whatsoever. (Not that they usually do, but - you know - this one might be even more disjointed than usual. You have been warned.)

It's hot this morning.  This is East Coast heat, though, so it's really the humidity that grabs you and wraps you in sticky cobwebs.  The cloying damp of the air clings to your skin and gives your face that "dewy" glow that was all the rage with Hollywood not so long ago, before getting pregnant became the newest fashion-of-the-moment.  My clothes - such as they are on a muggy Wednesday morning, consisting entirely of a "Singapore: It's a Fine City" T-shirt and a pair of yellow maternity underwear with a rubber ducky on them - stick to my soft frame and look like claustrophobia.  

I reheated a mug of yesterday's coffee, which isn't so bad when you drown it in as much Creme Brulee-flavored creamer as I tend to.  The meagre caffeine wasn't enough to sufficiently lift the fog before I had to vacuum up an entire package of saltine crackers stomped into the carpet by my 3-year-old.  Why isn't the vacuum picking up?  Oh.  I turned off the agitator bar again.  Fixed.  There, now the room is only as messy as it was before the kids got to it this morning.  That's not so bad, really.  There's too much furniture in here, though.  

Why do my eyes feel so funny? ... Oh, right.  I went on a date with my husband last night.  We hired our first honest-to-god babysitter, a darling girl who leaves for college in a week.  She's going to nursing school. I wonder what that must be like, being young and knowing what you want to do with your life.  Really? You want to be a labor and delivery nurse? That's what I want (wanted?) to do.  Well, before pregnancy and layoffs and working two jobs got in the way.  No, it's okay. I can go back later if I want to.  No, I haven't decided for sure yet.  For now I'm making cakes.  We'll take the baby with us tonight, so it's just the older two.

The baby made it through the previews and about 10 minutes of the movie.  He's always done great at theaters before, but not this time.  We fed him sweet potatoes.  That bought a few minutes. I tried nursing him again, safe in the darkened theater.  He bit me. Hard.  So much for that.  Then he cried, so my husband took him outside.  That was the last I saw of them for the rest of the movie.  So much for a date.  I might have cried a little on the way home.  I might have cried a lot.  I might be PMS'ing, though, so don't read into it.  No, Baby, it's okay. I'm happy - I really am.  I'm just... working through it.  "IT". You know. All of it.  I'm sorry you're stuck with me.  Ok. I'll shush, I promise.  No, I won't say that any more.  

So that's why my eyes feel funny.  Now I remember.  Oh, look. The dog found a jumping beatle.  Every time he paws at it, it starts leaping around in the air.  What IS that thing? It jumps and clicks.  Google? ... Ah! A click beetle.  Cool.  I mean, not cool that it's in my living room, but cool that it can jump like that.  The dog is freaking out.  Here, I'll get rid of it.  I think we'll take the dog to the dog park today.  How did I just find out about the dog park?  Well, we'll take him.  As long as this humidity dissipates soon, anyway.  Is it supposed to storm today or something? ... Oh.  Yeah. Forecast for today: Thunderstorms, 100% chance of precipitation.  So much for that idea.

Thunderstorms out here in the sticks are unlike the ones I have experienced anywhere else.  Even out west, amongst the Rockies and the Wasatch, where the thunder would echo off the mountains and ricochet around your head like a subway tunnel.  Out here it's the wind that scares you.  It howls and moans as it shears off the mountain and dips down over the Shenandoah river. It whips between the houses, peeling off vinyl siding like  candy-bar wrappers, and litters the sidewalk with orphan roof shingles.  And then there's the rain.  Even with our insulated roof the rain can be marbles falling on tin.  At the best of times, though, it's the sound of the shower against the sliding door. Who needs an ambiance fountain when you have rain like that?  Of course, when the thunder does crack too nearby, it's a slamming iron door. Makes you wonder what the gods could be arguing over, and whether they'll make up or just end the world.

I think I'll just mop the floors today, and then run the vacuum again.  The kids sheets need changing, and I swore I'd check out the 30-day-shred on on-demand.  I can't believe I'm still fitting into some size 18's.  What happened to that size 8 figure?  Oh. Yeah. 3 kids in 5 years, that's what.  Sorry, Body.  I don't mean to be so hard on you, especially since I'm the one who keeps feeding you those cupcakes.  

Maybe one of these days I'll really get to open that bakery.  Somehow it seems like it would be easier to resist the charms of cheesecake-filled chocolate cupcakes with lemon chiffon frosting if I could only see other people enjoy them.  I do love the baking.  Or rather, I love when it's done.  The cakes especially; they're like childbirth.  Miserable in the moment, sometimes, but then it's done and look! Look what I made!  Of course, the cakes go off into the world and done is done - the kids not so much.  They're  a work in progress, of course.  How do perfectionists parent? How can I be a perfectionist and still have so much dirty laundry?  

There's no manual for all this, is there.  I'm great with manuals; I am the Ikea master.  Why is there no allen wrench for life?  Insert tab A into slot B, use screw Q and don't over-tighten.  But I don't know anyone who has built my life before; I feel like an ottoman in a room full of arm chairs.  Also, I use entirely too many metaphors.  I know you don't mind; you're understanding like that.

Things I Did Instead Of Going To BlogHer This Year.

Kidlet #1, the indubitable Jack, celebrated his 6th birthday this week.  

There were plastic Groucho glasses and stick-on mustaches (these are "villain costumes" in case you were wondering how, exactly, all this fit into the Batman theme.)  Don't try to argue with a 6-year-old determined to have mustaches at his birthday party. (Then again, why would you want to? I mean, honestly.)

These are the most delicious cupcakes I have ever made.  

They also happen to be the most delicious cupcakes I have ever tasted. They have made me more determined than ever to find a way to open my bakery, even if it takes me 20 years to get there.

I had a cake job this week for a guy's 27th birthday. He is into comics, so it seemed appropriate to do the first appearance of Superman...

So it wasn't all doom and gloom as I missed the fabulous festivities (and apparently some serious bad juju from some overly-schwag-obsessed bloggers. Seriously? Someone ELBOWED her baby. To get schwag. Ruminate on that a moment, won't you?)  Plus, BlogHer '10 has been announced, and it's going to be in NYC.  East Coast, Hollah!  And yes, I will be there.  With cupcakes!

Lady Nerd's Lament

For anyone just joining us, allow me to introduce myself.  Hello, my name is MeL, and I am a nerd.  

I am a nerd who lives in West-By-God-Virginia, in a town with more churches than restaurants.  I love my small town and the people in it, but I have to admit there is something lacking.

This weekend, out in the wilds of Chicago, there is an event happening.  An event I will not be attending this year, even though I swore I was going to attend and even though I went last year and had the time of my life even though I was 74 months pregnant at the time and hi let's continue this sentence on a little longer just for grins.

You see, the Blogher Conference is officially My Happy Place.  It is a place where a girl can admit that she once spent every evening for 2 years playing World of Warcraft and, instead of looking at her askance and attempting to nonchalantly inch away from The Crazy, the other women shake their heads knowingly and clink together their wine glasses.  It's a place where I could totally sport this t-shirt and cause strangers to burst into spontaneous giggles, where the panels are equally passionate whether discussing pop culture, perl scripting, or women's issues.  This is my tribe; these are my people.

So somebody at the People's Party, or the MamaPop Sparklecorn Extravaganza, or any of the other bajillion parties that will all be lacking my attendance this year... spill a few drops of wine for me on the carpet.  It's ceremonial to remember a fallen comrade. (Melodramatic much? Yeah, so what. Besides, plenty of wine is sure to get spilt there anyway, so I'll just pretend it's in my honor.)  (I'm avoiding acknowledgment of the fact that I'm hardly likely to be missed.  This is maybe the one time I wish I wasn't quite so adept at being a wallflower.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sniffle quietly into my coffee.

I'll see you beeshuz next year. 

20 Things I Would Love To Say, But Have Not

Have you seen this meme? I think it's therapeutic.  Also, it nicely replaces the "stream-of-consciousness" post I was composing in my head that didn't make any sense, anyway.  

Basically, you list 20 things you would love to say to various people in your life, without attaching names or context.  It's rather freeing, you know.  

I will tell you that each of these is directed to a different person.  In a way, it's like my own, individual PostSecret -  But instead of the author being a mystery, it's just the recipient that remains unknown.  I will neither confirm nor deny, should anyone ask me if a particular quote is directed to them.  That said, for anyone familiar with the day-to-day intimacies of my life, at least 3 of them should be fairly obvious. (Such a tease am I.)

And with that, away we go...

1.  It's not you, it's me. I have no idea what to do about that, but I'm trying my best.  

2. I see how you are struggling, and I wish I knew you well enough to wrap you in a bear hug and cry it out together.  I'm right there with you, but I have to hope we're both going to make it to the other side just fine.

3. Thank you for trusting me with your secrets.  I keep them close to my heart, right next to you.

4.  Your declarations of love don't match up with your actions.  Your priorities are clearly evident, and we are not one of them.  I don't mind for myself; I'm used to it. It's them I am heartbroken for.

5.  In case you didn't get the message the first time around: you are not now, nor will you ever be, welcome in our lives.  Even if you could be forgiven for what you have done, which is impossible, there's no room in our life or around my children for anyone who could do what you have done. I hope you get hit by a bus.  (a double-decker would be peachy.)

6. I still struggle to come to terms with the fact that I never felt that you valued my friendship.  I've never had anyone be openly ashamed to be my friend (before or since), and for years I struggled to repair my own image of myself as Worth Anything.

7. It is not more awful or frightening for you than it was when it was happening to us.  We are doing our best to be supportive, even though we felt abandoned by you in the same situation.

8. I'm sorry for what happened back then.  I don't know if you even remember it, but I do.  It's part of the larger story of what was done to me, and I'm only beginning to figure that out.  I hope you don't blame me, or that you've forgiven me. 

9. I know what you are hoping we will do. Please accept that we never will, and nothing you can do or say is going to change that. Accept that this is okay, and we can move forward.

10. I do think you're sorta crazy, but it doesn't mean I don't still value what you have to say. In the places we can find common ground to discuss, I have learned and grown by leaps.

11. I wish I could go back in time and tell you I believed you were making a mistake, that you deserved so much better.  I wanted to, but I kept my mouth firmly closed. It probably would not have changed anything, but at least I wouldn't wonder if I could have done something to prevent what happened and what is happening now.  

12. Your selfish and destructive decisions are ruining THEIR lives, too. Don't you care?

13. I know what you did.  The more I remember, the less I want to know.  You have no idea of the damage you caused, or the ripple effects that continue from it.

14. You have always been a much better friend to me than I deserve.  I hope we live close enough some day to be a regular part of each others' lives again.

15. I really, really miss you.  I know I never told you, but just having you living near made me feel propped up, somehow.  I knew I could depend on you for anything, even though I never really asked.  You defined Family for me, and made me feel like I really had one.

16. I wish you would let me help you as much as you have helped me. When you refuse, it makes me feel like what I have to offer isn't worth accepting.

17.  Either you hate him that much, or my friendship was really worth that little.  Either way, there's just not room in my life for that.  That door has closed, and I don't see a window opening anytime soon.

18. When you suggested I owe you an apology for my depression, I realized you don't really understand what friendship means to ME.  Just because someone ignores your unsolicited advice doesn't mean they're doing it wrong. I just can't stand up to that kind of anger all the time.  So I didn't call you back. 

19. Your resentment of someone else's success is wildly unfair.  Is it impossible for you to just be happy for him?  If you could just be proud of him, you'd both be a lot happier and could maybe have a real relationship.

20. What you said to me made me feel, for the first time in my life, that someone else actually saw me.  You made me feel understood, and I realized maybe I wasn't worthless after all. Thank you for that. It was the beginning of everything great.

And with that, I tag Dr. Allie, Shannon, Kerri, and Jenn.  (Each of whom one of these is directed to, by the way.)(Still not telling.) :)

Don't Call It A Vacation.

I have been staring at this monitor for the past few minutes trying to come up with a good opening for this entry.  Sadly, that opening refuses to come, so here we are.  Let's play catch-up - now with more bullets!

* Spent Friday night camping out at the local KOA with my cousins.  The boys had never been camping before (gasp!).  We realized how far we have fallen from former days when we swore we would, like, totally take our kids? Camping? ALL the time.  (We opened the tent box to pack the car.  The tent that we got as a wedding gift.  7 years ago.)  For the most part, though, it was a non-issue.  Except for, you know, the fact that Milo is teething and woke up every hour or so to scream with wild abandon. (Other people at the KOA: We're really sorry about the baby who was screaming at intervals through the night. If it makes you like us better, we'll pretend he isn't ours.)

* Saturday and Sunday were promised to Big Daddy's Mama.  The lady does not disappoint -- Gumbo, low country boil, and homemade guacamole.  We ate ourselves silly, played Yahtzee, watched the fireworks at Fairfax High, and stayed up way too late.

* Monday and Tuesday the boys and I headed up to Rehoboth Beach to meet up with the cuzzes once again.  In all the time I have lived out here (10 years now) I have never gone up to the Deleware beaches.  Can I just say: Wow.  The beach was beautiful, calm, and pretty much perfect. The weather was awesome.  Other than the part where I got a speeding ticket on the way home, which sucked mightily, it was a fantastic adventure.

I have photos from the beach to share. Soon, I promise.  I have no photos from the camping because - hello! remember me? The one with the screaming infant? yeah. No photos were taken at the camping.  Ditto for the actual 4th festivities, but I think we just left the camera in the car.  (See? I'm so tired, I can't even come up with clever excuses anymore.  This is the universe's way of telling me to GO TO SLEEP.)

And now that I just pulled the last berry pie out of the oven -- (Not a euphemism - I really am just baking berry pies. Just because.) -- I can finally head to my comfy bed and prepare to face another day. 

But lest I forget to scream it to the world from the top of someplace very high (bonus points if you know the quote! You probably have boys, too!) I must take the moment to say

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIG DADDY!  You survived another year of life, and managed to resist the urge to throw me out a window any of the many times I probably would have deserved it.  I love you. (Too, too much.) and I have no right to be so lucky.

No I am Not Really This Granola

Oh, internets.  It has been a while, hasn't it?  My black thumb and I have been busy.  Busy being sleepy, not keeping up with chores, pretty much killing the container garden, and boring my children with my lack of motherly awesome.  (But! We went to the Cool Pool! The one with the Frog Slide! And there was ice cream! And apparently lots of exclamation points!) 

That trip to the pool, by the way, cost me 2 days of recuperation.  Because while my thyroid appears to be fine, the Chronic Fatigue continues. (Which, by the way, is most likely exactly that.  Apparently I had mono at some indistinct point in the past and it is probably dragging me down like a lead balloon. So yay for that.)

But lest you think it all be doom and gloom around the Casa, allow me to relieve your brain.  There are games afoot, and after adding magnesium and B12 to my vitamin regimen, I am beginning to feel a bit of energy come back.  Enough that I went for a walk/jog last night with Gizmo the WonderDog.  We did 2 miles.  (You're appropriately impressed, aren't you.  You should be!  Please?) Hmm that sounds a bit needy.  Okay, FINE then. Don't be impressed.  But when me and my pasty-legs-of-iron bust into the not-so-skinny-but-still-smaller-than-the-maternity-pants jeans, who will look silly THEN, huh?! I ASK YOU.

*cough*

I'm sorry, where were we?  OH!  So, yeah. After pretty much killing all of my carefully tended food plants (and decidedly killing the peach tree sapling purchased on a whim at Walmart for fifteen bucks. Oh, I killed it dead, y'all) I have discovered the glory of the local CSA.  I am now waiting to hear back from our local farm to see if they allow buy-ins mid-season.  Otherwise we will buy in for next year, and I'll spend the rest of this year attempting to not feed the kids a steady diet of grilled cheese and chicken nuggets.

So there's that.

Pretend I have a clever segue here as we move on to talk Vacation.

Finances being what they are, we knew we would be driving somewhere for vacation this year.  We talked about several possibilities -- Philadelphia and the Please Touch Museum (I'd link to it, but I'm lazy.  Google it.  Also, don't make the mistake we kept making and call it the "Touch This" museum if you are describing it to other people, as it sounds oddly pornographic and will likely garner the same looks of confused horror.)  We looked at the Deleware Beaches, but that was cost prohibitive.  Also, we waited too long and everything was booked. But mostly the cost. (ahem.)

Finally, Big Daddy had a lightning strike of brilliance.  The Family Aum will be heading to CANADIA!  Lock up your mounties - Mama is headed for the border.  Well, not immediately; we're going in August.  The trip will take us through the wilds of Upstate NY, into the (assumably) bustling metropolis of Montreal and, finally, up to the French-Canadian Frenchness of Quebec City.  (Hey, Monsiour Fisher! I'll finally have an excuse to use my High School French! You know, for something besides swearing in front of my kids!)

So the summer is shaping up to be a little bit of crazy (Oh, yeah, I did 3 cakes in 2 weeks! Because I am a masochist!) and a lot of awesome. (Energy returning. Sun Shining.  Bonjour, Canada! and such like.)

And if this post has come off as a rambling stream-of-consciousness bit, you'll have to be forgiving.  I haven't slept in 3 days, courtesy of Milo.  I'd work up the energy to cry, but when I realized he cut his first tooth all was well.  Funny how a little tooth (or a reason to finally get my passport) can change the perspective, isn't it?

Now just pretend there's a witty closing here that wraps this all up into some sort of neat thesis, and we'll call it a day.