So. That went well!

Yes, I lasted exactly 1 day before I achieved Epic Fail on NaBloPoMo. What can I say? I am an highly imperfect person. You should know that about me before this relationship progresses any further. Also, I have been told I hog the covers and occasionally snore. (Thanks for the honesty, Honey! You fart constantly in your sleep, by the way! Love you!)

The only clear solution here is to do what I always usually often do when I fall flat on my face. It's time to get back up, dust myself off, glance around furtively to make sure nobody was looking and keep marching onward.

So! Last night, we went out to our favorite local Sushi place to celebrate the End of an Era. Allow me to explain -- A few weeks back we attended Trip's college graduation, and we celebrated that day with an awesome meal at Mussels in Bethesda, MD. (I highly recommend it, especially the Belgian beer selection. Hello, Triples!) That was a great day.

Sadly for Trip, he still had a few weeks left in his final class before officially completing his BS degree. Yesterday, he pushed "submit" on his final paper/project for his final week of his final class... and officially finished up with being a student. That's right, y'all, my husband is officially edge-a-ma-cated! Which, obviously, requires celebratory sushi and saki. Thank goodness the boys are as much whores for sushi as we are -- the little buggars ate 2 entire California rolls and were STILL picking at our cooked rolls. I managed to be magnanimous and not bite off any of their tiny fingers as they reached for my favorite "Good Time Roll". (What?! Tempura fried sushi roll in cherry brandy sauce! You'd totally threaten to cannibalize your children for it, too. Trust me.)

Wait, what?

Oh! Yeah, we were talking about school. Trip is officially done with school! This, according to the 5-year plan, means that it is my turn to go back to school. At the moment, I'm not exactly sure how I feel about that. I'm still working part-time from home 5 days a week, plus attempting to move forward with that whole Cake thing. Oh! And I've been sewing and crocheting and jewelry-making for a friend's shop over at Tiny Toes Bowtique.

And, you know, doing that whole Raising 3 small humans thing. Yes, I remember I have children. Don't worry, I manage to keep them fed, clothed, and appropriately tickled. In return, they manage to tell me at least once a day that I am a "stinky poopy head! A MEAN one! Who won't let us run around in our underwear or eat Halloween candy for breakfast because you are STINKY!" So that's, you know, completely awesome.

So at the moment I am generally standing on the precipice of the future and clinging desperately to the crumbling vines of my self-identity while I try to figure out what the heck I want to BE when I grow up. Heavy thoughts for a Wednesday, no? I'll try to make Thursday more light-hearted. Honest.

What?

Oh, you thought I'd be less full of angst and ennui after the long break from this chronicle?

You are so cute when you're optimistic!

...

*Cough*

*Tap-Tap-Tap*

*Cough*

Testing... 1-2-3.... Is this thing on?

Hallo stranger!

Let's pretend like we're old friends who haven't seen each other in a long, long time but can just pick up where we left off, shall we? I have a friend like that, and it's lovely. Really. And it's better not to dwell on the "Where have I been the last 8 months" and, in stead, focus on the present.

SO! Welcome to NaBloPoMo and I'm going to give it a go. Likely I will fail -- I don't have a fantastic track record of staying on top of things -- but it's the effort and good intent that count, and I have plenty of both to spare.

For today, allow me to leave you with some examples of what I have been up to of late. This applies to both the making of the following hats and the raising of the small models wearing them.

So. Now, then. How have YOU been?

Absence of Writer and Abs.

Wow, you guys. I am really bad at this. THIS. You know! *gestures vaguely around*

The last weeks and months have been a blur of capital BUSY. I wake up, I get the kids to school, I run around and do errands and chores and start my work day, I pick Toby up, I work all afternoon, pick Jack up from school, settle the kids in with snack, get dinner started, eat, put kids to bed, and end my evening in a vegetative state in front of the television.

Lather, rinse, repeat - 5 days a week.

And the thing is, really, truly, it's fantastic. I'm frazzled, I'm exhausted, and I'm having trouble keeping straight the day of the week or remembering when I last put on mascara... and I honestly feel like I am in my element, at last. I really do. I'm earning a paycheck and helping support my family, I have purpose every minute of my day, and despite the fact that nearly all of my favorite pasttimes have had to be put on hold for the moment, I am about 99% content. And still managing to love and smooch my charming offspring and spouse and not yell nearly as much as I usually do.

I am also 100% in need of a way to find time to update this here blog regularly, because my brain pan is getting pretty full and I really do require the exhaust valve of WRITING. Even bad writing. And technically speaking, I *could* have spent Midnight to 3am last night doing that - the writing thing - but it was otherwise earmarked for... (*looks around to be sure we are alone, then leans in and says in semi-shamed whisper*) the Twilight - New Moon movie.

THERE! I said it. Also, in case you are interested, the award for best acting officially goes to Taylor Lautner's abs because OH-EM-GEE. I think I had my first cougar moment. Seriously, thanks a lot Chris Weitz for throwing that in my face and reminding me that I am too, too old to be drooling over jail bait. JAIL. BAIT. And yes, if a 30-year-old man was drooling vocally and publically over a 17-year-old actress I would be totally disgusted and probably call him bad names. I feel the appropriate level of shame for squealing like a tween at several key (and usually shirtless) moments in the movie. And I have to live with myself now!

And yet ...still totally toying with the idea of making a cafe press shirt that says "Team Jacob....'s Abs" because HALLO 8 PACK! And while we're at it... Hallo the rest of you shirtless werewolf types! And, uh, a casual nod in the direction of Edward's shirtless torso because.. meh. Rob? Honey? We both know I've been faithfully adoring you from afar these many months... But, Sugar? I REALLY hope you did a few sit-ups between New Moon and Eclipse. Pasty White is not easy to wear well -- trust me, I'm an expert on the particular subject -- but my eyes are still kinda sore from the glare of Shapeless Shirtless Edward after basking in the glow of the Honey-Rich Buffness of the aforementioend shirtless werewolves for the other 2 hours of the film.

Also, note to self, apparently there is a very good reason I don't usually go see movies after 11pm. That is obviously prime "Crazy" time for developing inappropriate crushes on teenage movie actors and composing abstract monologues to fictional vampires with sadly non-six-packed fishbellies.

Aaaaaand... at least for now.... that's all she wrote.

Hiding Under Freeways

Freeway underpasses where I live? They are probably not like freeway underpasses where you live.  I have lived a lot of places, y'all, and even in the nicer areas I found that underpasses where a place for graffiti and old urine and the occasional homeless person.

Not so in West-By-God-Virginia.

If you listen close, you'll hear the air whistling through the car tires overhead.

Unless the sound is smothered by the lullaby and hum of the river.

We spent one of the last lazy, luxuriant afternoons of the summer wading in the warm waters of the Shenandoah.

Mom? Can I just lay in the water, Mom? Can we stay here forever, Mom?

NO. CAMERA. NO. Good day, Madam.

I SAID GOOD DAY!

And they didn't fight.  Two tiny adventurers admonishing each other 

not to take off their shoes.

Sitting happily on the sidelines, he didn't miss a trick.

It helps to come stocked with crackers and sippy cups.

Me & My Posse.  My little Neopolitan Trio. 

(And yes, Milo's hair is still coming in red.)

Like I said.  My freeway underpass? Pretty much kicks your freeway underpass's ass.

Woman's Head Explodes. Story at 11.

The past couple of weeks have been some of the most... stressful? Insane? Homicidal? I run out of acceptable adjectives, and yet still I do not find the mark.  Trip had surgery, and it went well. His recovery could be going better, but we should know more about the odd pains he's having after his surgical follow-up on Wednesday.  I'll post a recap of the fun another time.

On the plus side, there is the arrival of my newest niece - Miss Bridget Elise.  Admit it - you want to dunk her in chocolate and nibble on those cheeks. 

Also on the plus side, I DID promise you David Beckham photos and, no, that was not simply a shameless sweeps-week tactic to keep you on the edge of your seat until I made it back here.  Honest. See?

You are so welcome.

So there was that.  And, actually, it wasn't the hilight of the night. Well, anyway, it wasn't the ONLY hilight of the night.  Here are a few more:

Instead of shelling out the $30 for the official kids' Team T-Shirt, we made our own DC United shirts.  Black T shirt from mega-store: $4, plus fabric paint. 

The above pretty much sums up their typical reactions to the camera. Jack is all jazz hands all the time, Toby is more "meh. blergh. NO CAMERA!"

My photogenic Honey. 

Still not amused by the camera, Mom.

Again with the wearing of my Tired Eyes. 

It was a long night, but well worth it and THANKS be to DC United for playing LA so I could drool over Donovan and Beckham.  Also for tying at 0 to 0 so that I didn't have to feel torn between the home team and the hot team.  Yes, I am that shallow when it comes to my sporting events.

How Much Ado Is Too Much Ado?

So how have YOU been, internet?

I know, I know. I got you all riled up about photos and adventures and a night out and blah, blah, blahgety-blah-blah, and then I leave you hanging.

Sorry about that.  What can I say? It's been a rough week.

Meeting up with bloggers is not something I expect to every thoroughly get used to.  I'm not good at cracking the code of social interaction when I'm "The New Kid".  When I was growing up, every two years (or less) brought a new move, and it usually took me a good year or two to find my groove and feel at home.  You know, just in time for another move.

When I was 14 we moved to California and finally stayed put for the next several years.  I even got to attend a single high school for all 4 years (something few of my siblings were able to do).  The only problem? Being a mormon in California was probably the worse possible place to be for a kid like me.  I was gangly, just coming into my height, totally unaware of my body or my appearance.  I had been told I was chubby my entire life, and I simply accepted it.  

When we arrived in California, I was actually a trim 135 pounds on a 5' 6" frame.  I felt fat.  I had a weird accent from living all over the place, my clothes were hopelessly out of style, and I hadn't the first clue how to put myself together or fit in with the kids around me who seemed just effortlessly cool.

By my junior year of high school I was 220 pounds on a 5' 8" frame.  I had given up on clothes, and my bleach-blonde hair had gone through various stages of being dyed brown by my sister (I spent half my sophomore year being questioned about the odd green shade, what with brown dye over bleached hair turning a lovely shade of puce-brown), and finally dyed a little-mermaid red to cover it.  I ate lunch at my locker, hunched over my dog-eared copy of Nicholas and Alexandra, rather than put myself through the cringe-inducing spectacle of trying to make conversation with the kids from my church group at "their spot" on the back lawn.  

By my senior year I had tried every possible way to lose the extra weight, and finally settled on running and walking as much as my body would tolerate.  I slimmed down to a healthy 140 and let my natural hair color grow in.  I still hadn't the foggiest idea about clothes or makeup or hair products, but I had found a group of friends who seemed to "get" me.... or at least to accept me as I was.  It took 4 years, but I finally felt at home.

Then I graduated and headed for Provo, Utah and BYU.  It was the final straw, and the beginning of everything else.  After 18 months, I moved to the East Coast and started again for what felt like the last time.  Maybe because it was the last time I would have to "reinvent" myself; or maybe because it was the first time I didn't have to, and could just discover who I was.

All of that backstory (this new honesty, it stings a little sometimes) is to say that so much of that feeling of "other-ness" rears up again when I put myself somewhere new.  I struggle to read the social cues, to pick up on the dynamic of the group.  The major thing that has changed is that I no longer base my sense of self-worth on whether or not I fit in.  But I still try to connect, and I hope that never changes.  Maybe I'll get better at this with practice.

So I made the 90-minute drive to Baltimore, stopping along the way to meet up with the lovely Miss Laurie, who was kind enough to take me under her wing to get me into the city.  

Once we arrived, I met (or re-met, as the case may be) some of the wry babes from MamaPop and a few of their friends.  What follows is the abridged story, in photos.  

What you won't see is how I giggled awkwardly at regular intervals, tried to make a point to talk with each person there one-on-one and, failing that, retreated to "Hey! I make cakes! My weird hobby, let me show it to you!" and basically, yeah, I'm pretty certain by the end of the night everyone there was wondering who had invited the crazy redhead, anyways, and should they start talking restraining order?  But, at least outwardly, everyone was lovely and funny and kdiddy is wicked hawt. (Sorry. I'm partial to redheads. What can I say?)  Although I don't think I'll ever get used to watching 6 people sitting in a row in a club and all twittering on their phones.  (in best old lady voice "you kids today!" etc, etc.)

And so, without further ado (because, good gravy, that was a lot of ado!) I present:

Babes In Baltimore:

Going out on the town. This is my game face.

Laurie and Sarah rocking the black. Aren't they lov-er-ly?
Wherein I learn it is not wise to attempt to startle the sweetney in its natural habitat. She sees ALL, y'all.

See, now I had always heard you could tell you'd had too much to drink if the tip of your nose was numb, Mizz Tracey.  But I suppose this would work, too... (now please don't kick my arse..)

Baltimore Gal and kDiddy have a heart-to-heart.

(Love, love, LOVE the green dress. LOVE!)
Disnazzio allowing me to make her totally uncomfortable.  And why, yes, she IS just as charming and delightful as that adorable smile would suggest! 

Um. The end?

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.

Growing Up, Not Old: A story in pictures.

First, allow me to introduce my very lovely friend Camilla.

Camilla - Internets. Internets - Camilla.

In addition to being incredibly gorgeous, Camilla is also incredibly tall.  Oh, and incredibly Swedish, too.  I know, right? She must have been an angel in a former life to be so blessed, which I totally believe because she is definitely angelic now.  

Camilla celebrated her 30th birthday just after mine, so I insisted on dragging her out sweeping her away for an evening of Grown Up Lady Drinks and time away from our offspring.  

This was my favorite beverage of the night.

Hello, Burnt Orange Martini.  Delicious AND an excellent source of Vitamin C.

And these are the sassy heels I wore, because I am wearing High Heels Now.

They are mustard yellow suede. No, seriously.  Am I not branching out, people?!

And this is my Sassy Face that I wore to match my sassy heels:

Okay, so that's less sassy and more sweet.  Have it your way, HERE is my sassy face:

I wish I could blame my complexion on the flash, but I really am just. that. white.

So we dined on some nachos and had some drinks and then there was dessert.

We were going to take a picture of it for you, but we eated it first.  

But trust me - it was lovely. And delicious.

Spending a carefree evening in the company of a friend? 

Even more lovely. And delicious.

The evening was a complete success, complete with a walk from the restaurant back to Camilla's house and a designated driver for me.  Camilla's husband, Russ, volunteered for that duty.  Russ is from Maine and says things like "Leave yeh cah pahked at the bah and I'll give you a lift home."  This is made even more awesome by the fact that when, in a few months, Camilla and Russ take their baby daughter and move to Sweden, Russ will presumably need to learn to speak some swedish.  I imagine this will be comparable to the sounds I heard while taking a French class in Texas.  If you don't find either of these situations hilarious, you really just don't get my sense of humor and probably need to watch more Monty Python.

Also, I'm trying not to weep over the fact that Camilla is moving back to Sweden.  Did you know that Sweden pays you to have kids? And that they have awesome programs to support parents who stay home with their kids? I am now weighing the chances I could convince Big Daddy to move to Sweden.  

Any-who, this fantastic evening was a lovely panacea to the wounds on my Mom-Weary heart.  Not that I was weary of motherhood - don't go reading it that way.  It's more that I was suddenly forced to face facts about my children growing up much faster than I am prepared to process.  See, just the evening before I was faced with THIS:

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!

So I'm okay with ME getting older. But that?  That is just... just... I mean, yesterday he looked like THIS:

Hello, Baby who is NOT Milo

But Holy Hannah Montana, do you LOOK like Milo!

And now I am faced with THIS:

And .. just... Wow.  

I might need another martini.

This Is Not The Post You're Looking For.

No Jedi Mind Trick intended.  Seriously. This is not the post you are probably expecting.

See, the thing is, I am still working on processing the events of the past 4 days.  This conference, this Mythical THING that I attended, is still being digested.  It's a bit like the old saying about eating an elephant: one bite at a time.  

Here are a few quick bullets.  Think of them as a quick snack, with the more filling meal to follow.

* MochaMomma and Mallory the Magnificent were quite possibly the best roommates in history.  I felt like I was part of the world's most awesome sleepover.  Also, they swear I didn't snore AT ALL.  I suspect they're either sparing my feelings or just really, REALLY heavy sleepers.  Either way? Rule.

* I am officially in love with The Redneck Mommy.  I mean, I already had total girl-crushdom on her, but now I officially wanted to put her in my pocket and take her home with me.  I don't think she would have minded, but when I gave it more thought I realized that I don't really want to bring someone so obviously hotter than me home to meet Big Daddy.  The man might get ideas, and in my currently delicate condition I might be too slow to successfully beat his senses back into him with my ham sandwich.

* My one big regret of the conference would have been missing the Mighty Haus launch party but, after shaking my oh-so-pregnant groove thang for hours at the Ruby Skye party, I headed to bed just in time.  By the next morning my pelvis was creaking and it took me a good half hour to relearn how to walk properly.  So, yes, I missed my chance to give a heartfelt fangirl shout-out to Dooce and many others.  I did manage to steal a brief moment to chat with Mighty Maggie after her panel, though, and she was as lovely and gracious as I imagined she would be.  Also, she brought the leftover Krispy Kremes from her party to give out after her panel, and thereby purchased a special place in heaven.  (nummmmm, Krispy Kremes. Remind me someday to regale you with the glorious tales of Friday nights and a dozen fresh Krispy Kremes back in the glory days of a little site called Kozmo.com).

* People I am happy to have finally met face-to-face, however briefly:  Redsy, Velma Smeddling, Fluid Pudding, Oh, The Joys,  Amalah, and others I know I should remember and will look like a loser for forgetting to mention but oh mah gawd I am so tired and please forgive me and comment and remind me that Hi! We met, and I said it was great, and now I'm acting all aloof and do you want to break up or what, because we should totally meet up behind the gym after fifth period and have The Talk or whatever.  Also, most of the people I DID remember to mention will likely be all "MeL WHO, now?".  Oh, and I also met Bossy, who I was somehow unaware of until her Excellent Road Trip Adventures.  Her blog makes me laugh with regularity.  She is much taller than I expected, and also I might have accidentally almost strangled her with her scarf while attempting to dance with her at one of the parties - so basically SHE will remember me, but only as the insane pregnant woman who attempted to suffocate her with her own accessories, the end.

The posts I will write later, the ones brewing in my impish head, have less to do with the adventures of BlogHer than with the ideas that were planted in my head there.  The conversations were multitude, and I have been thinking through several essays on topics raised there.  So keep your eyes open for coming-soon posts on topics like Body Image, Why I Write, and MommyBlogging as a Radical Act.  These things require further percolating.  For now, then, I will continue to digest and maybe post some of the few photos I remembered to take.  

Also, I have to catch up on the latest episodes of Avatar, So You Think You Can Dance, and Monk.  Because, you know, Mama needs her stories.

Things You Should Know.

In just over 24 hours I will be heading to the airport for my 4 day Girl Extravaganza at BlogHer 2008.

If I didn't already have bladder control issues (thank you, pregnancy) this would likely send me running for a dry pair of granny panties.  I'm looking forward to meeting, in person, people who I have learned to adore on the internet.  I can't wait to put names with faces and grope give hugs to people whose words have alternately entertained, inspired, and elevated me. 

This woman is all big and important and, in case you haven't heard, an INTERNET PHENOMENON, etc, etc, etc.  When I stumbled across her, however, she was my first brush with a "mommy blogger" and her words helped me laugh and cry and find solace in some of the darkest days of my post-partum depression.  I had no idea she was a "somebody", but in those difficult days she never knew that she was the girlfriend who sat and had coffee with me and said "I've been there, and this will get better. You will get through this."  Also, she is a keynote speaker at the conference this year.  That feels like something coming full circle for me.

So, yeah, I have a lot of expectations about this conference.  And I'm hoping to meet a few people who can tell me Where To Go Next, because I do have the desire to branch out and maybe take on a few assigned pieces for other sites or something to that effect.  Because - all evidence to the contrary - I AM interested in writing about things besides the kids, my dog, my breasts, and the voices in my head.  So there's that.

In the interest of full disclosure, then, there are a few things you should know about me before my grand "coming out" at BlogHer.  

1) As I write this, I am sitting in my favorite multi-purpose item of maternity clothing: a shapeless, black, stretchy cotton housedress thing.  When I arrive in San Francisco with my multitude of carefully coordinated outfits, complete with matching jewelry, shoes, and purses, please recognize that I am not actually That Put Together.  It's a carefully crafted illusion, and when I get home I will probably take entirely too much joy in placing my fancy kicks back up on their shelf and slipping my feet into my fuzzy pink house slippers.

2) I am a drinker.  I am NOT an alcoholic, but were it not for the small resident in my uterus I would take great pleasure in joining you for a cocktail or three.  That said, my family has a talent for acting like a buncha drunks without the aid of alcohol.  Don't believe me? Just ask any of the many guests who asked, rather doubtfully, after my wedding if I was SURE my mormon family members weren't sneaking drinks behind the curtain.  Surprisingly, an overabundance of personality can be achieved without the aid of alcohol.  So if I appear a bit tipsy, rest assured it's just my natural exuberance.

3) If I remain sitting to talk to you, it's because my feet/back/pelvis/(insert other appropriate body part here) is aching from carrying the weight of another large baby.  Please don't think I'm rude, it's just that I'm quite ponderously large.  Also, I am not due until September so PLEASE don't ask me if I'm sure there's not twins in there.  I really am that big; I really am having just one; I'm really not due for another few months.  So glad we could get that out of the way.

4) Feel free to rub the belly, unless you are creepy or certifiable.  I am a firm believer that the buddha belly is good luck, and if spreading a little luck around will come back to help me out... well, my karma can always use a boost.  

5) Bonus points to anyone who says things like "You only had one dessert; now you need to eat one for the baby!" or "But you look too fantastic to be having your THIRD baby!"  I'll know that you're lying, but I'll love you anyway.

6) If I swap my fabulous shoes for a pair of flip-flops sometime during the afternoon, please pretend not to notice.  Pregnant women? Our feet swell in the summer.

7) If you recognize me, PLEASE come and say hello!  I may act skittish and awkward, but that's just because I'm not used to it yet.  I made an art form of being invisible for most of my adolescence, and breaking out of that mold is not the easiest thing to do.  

8) When I get nervous, I tend to talk faster and faster until I may appear to be speaking a foreign language.  I'm working on it; please forgive me.   

9) In attempt to curb inappropriate language use in front of the small humans I have developed a whole host of "alternative curses" which may include such phrases as "Jimminy Christmas!", "Son of a biscuit!", "Frickity-fricking-FRAKK!".  Please avert your eyes and understand that I am aware of my own weirdness.  I'm quirky - let's just accept that and move on.

10) I really suck at keeping lists, being on time, and pretty much anything that involves minute-to-minute organization.  If I stumble into a session 10 minute late, please smile encouragingly and offer me the open seat next to you.  I promise it will be worth your while; what I lack in organizational skills I more than make up for with charm... and chocolate.  Also, I usually smell very nice.

So there we are.  I'm sure there's more that you should know about me, but that will give you a good base.  Well, that and a fair warning that I have a habit of smacking people I find charming on their bum.  Like I said, I'm a little quirky.

I'm not sure how much time I'll have for posting while I'm on my adventure; I do expect to twitter at least intermittently, so you can look for me there.. but just in case you're not going to be in San Francisco this weekend, let's plan to meet back here on Monday, shall we?

Going Under / Surfacing

It has been a plethora of days (yes, I said PLETHORA) since I posted.

There are very good reasons for this.  I have been BIZZY, y'all.  For a woman as monstrously pregnant as I currently am, busy equals tired.  I'm not just talking your run-of-the-mill, after company tired.  Oh No.  This is bone weary, "why are the nights so short and who are these small people begging for breakfast?" exhausted tired.

My sister and her family were delightful to have with us for the 4th Holiday, and the boys each became a Mini-Me for their older cousins.  In order to fully appreciate the extent of this tiny clone phenomenon, you must please refer to the following photographic evidence:

Corban and Tobin: The Blonde Ambition Tour

Rees and Jack get Cheeky.

And, yes, her boys are as "photo-negative" of each other as mine are.  Weird, I know.

Our good friends, who recently purchased the home across the street from us, also joined us for the holiday festivities.  Big Daddy and Mister Joe were in charge of manning the grill.  In the pouring rain.

Gives new meaning to the phrase "wet ribs".  The bbq ribs, by the way, were spectacular.

We spent a great few days in the company of my sister's family, and then waved them on their way on Sunday morning.  Then, Sunday afternoon, we welcomed my cousin Katie, my cousin Mike, and 4 of Mike's eight (yes, EIGHT) children into the homestead for an evening of chatter and Rock Band ruckus.  I still rock out on the drums, by the way, even if I have to lean back to reach them around The Belly.

And then, on Monday morning, I died.  The End.

Okay, not really.  But the housekeeper came.  Did I mention we now have a lovely woman coming in twice a month to scrub the bathrooms and do the floors?  Because my bulky self can't manage it any more, and yes I do feel incredibly bourgeois about it all, but there it is, and it saves my sanity.  Anyway, the housekeeper came and so I spent Monday morning doing house cleaning to prepare the way for her, and then I spent the afternoon digging out from under the mountains of laundry.  

And then, this morning, I died for real, which explains why it is now nearly 11pm and I am finally getting around to posting this rather sad summary of a really exceptional weekend.  I managed a 2-hour nap this afternoon and, after dinner at a local Mexican restaurant followed by ice cream at The Cone Zone, we finally got the boys bathed and into bed and settled in a bit for the evening.  

And now, my friends? Now I go to sleep the sleep of legends.  And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow Big Daddy turns 30.  Don't tell him I told you.  More on that later.

Nighty night!

This Girl Goes To 11.

Blogger Love On Wednesday is up at Fiddley Gomme.

Pete did a great job interviewing a guest that interrupted him at least a dozen times... someone who has obviously been off her ADD meds for the past 8 months...  

Someone who has just now, this moment, vowed to make her husband sit in the next time she does anything like this - so that he can fit me with a shock collar and give me a good jolt every time I forget to SHUT UP ALREADY.  

In my defense, I do talk the most when I'm nervous.  Also this was recorded on a day when I had been awake with Toby since 4am and my allergies were kicking my tuckus.  So that buys me about 30 seconds of the 20 or so minutes I talked nearly without interruption or maybe stopping to breathe.

Thanks again to Pete, who could teach classes in being patient with the Crazies.  (and by crazies, I mean me.) 

BLOW Me.

First off, quick aside.  I had every intention of posting this yesterday, but then our power flicked off and on and the wireless router died for the dozenth time this year and then refused to come back.  And so I was without internet, because I refused to sit down like a normal person and plug into the ethernet cable.  Because - WIRES! The weight of it all, the tied-down-ness.  It was all more than I could bear.  Also I was somewhat busy digging my way out of the pit of despair our house descended into over the course of the busy weekend.

So now things are back to normal, the house is no longer in danger of being condemned, and Big Daddy picked up a spankin' new wireless router, thus restoring my faith in the internets. All is mostly right with the world.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled insanity.

I may have mentioned once or twice or eleventy-billion times that I have a small problem with phone anxiety.  

Talking to strangers or even acquaintances over the phone has been known to give me heart palpitations, sweaty palms, and halitosis.

So it was a big step for me to spend an hour chatting with Pete of Fiddley Gomme for his Blogger Love On Wednesdays podcast.

Pete is an incredibly personable guy, and I have a feeling he'd be great to set with over a couple of beers.  Not that lightweight Utah stuff, where they water the beer down to like 4 percent.  I'm talking good, New England Lager beers.  

That said, I'm also fairly sure that I talked too much, talked too fast, and meandered down Tangent Lane a few too many times.  I mentioned to him (off recording) that I have been living happily in my little bubble of relative anonymity, and I'm somewhat ambivalent about venturing out into new territory. I've never received hate mail, nor have I had to deal with trolls and other lower life forms.  It's like the Garden of Eden -- all naively exuberant exploration without any real consequences.

It's probably to be expected, then, that I'm feeling a little anxious about letting that go and moving on into the Big Bad World.

But moving on I am.  I started with getting my ticket to BlogHer for this year... and now everyone except my Mom can tune in to Pete's B.L.O.W. podcast this Wednesday to hear me interviewed.   He's too nice to tell you that I'm as awkward to talk to on the phone as you would imagine, but I suspect he required a stiff drink and perhaps a high colonic in order to recover from exposure to all hundred kinds of my crazy.  Anyway, be sure to give it a listen so that you, too, can hear me cackle like a hyena and possibly talk about conceiving my children under the influence of too much wine. 

Thanks, Pete.  You're a gentleman and a scholar. :)

Travel, Sports, and AHH! The Cuteness.

First off, let's all give a big Internet High Five to my husband, who circumnavigated the globe several times on miserable business travel.. and then gave me the frequent flyer miles to get me on a plane to San Francisco for the oft mentioned BlogHer '08 that I'll be attending in July.

I'm not certain yet what will be required of me in return, but I suspect it will incorporate the fact that I'm quite bendy. (Thank you, pilates.) Or, at least as bendy as a pregnant woman can hope to be.

Secondly, please stop by and give big, wet smooches to the MochaMomma, who bestowed some seroius love on yours truly. She is my internet fairy godmother. Also? Her lips are mythical in their perfection and lusciousness. Actually, her whole person is mythical that way. Everyone should be so lucky as to know someone like her at least once in a lifetime. And you are free to envy that I expect to sit on her lap and let her whisper sweet things in my ear when I stalk meetup with her at BlogHer.

So you can see that my brainpan is quite overflowing with thoughts of my upcoming San Francisco adventures. It's hard to focus on anything else, even though there are oodles of things to get done between now and then. You know, like putting away the laundry that has been folded in baskets and patiently waiting to be stowed for.. oh.. I forget.

Also, my baby - MUH BAYBEE! - has kindergarten registration next week and OHMYGAWD I am too young and how could you let this happen?!! But, um, (*sniffle*cough*hiccup*) let's not talk about that because I remembered to put on mascara this morning and I don't need to have it running down my face just now.

Instead, let's talk about Tee Ball! (Smooth transition, no?) (no.)

Jack is an amazing kid. His newest habit, for example, is getting up in the morning and setting the table for breakfast while his parents are still happily snoring away. He is quick to follow directions and incredibly eager to please.

The funny thing about watching Jack learn to play Tee Ball is watching him attempt to unlearn everything we have been telling him for the last 4 and a half years.

"Slow down! Don't run!"
"Don't throw that at your brother!"
"No hitting! NO HITTING!"

And here I thought that was just good parenting. Now we get to watch him despair at ever understanding these inept humans responsible for his care and feeding as we yell out helpful instructions for success in the sport:

"Run! As fast as you can! RUN!"
"Throw the ball to Carson! THROW THE BALL!"
"Hit the ball with this stick as hard as you can!"

So, yeah, he's basically totally over thinking his parents are infallible and has moved on to the "these people are insane and OMG when do I get to move out on my own?" phase of his childhood. Because we're awesome like that.

As we attempt to navigate these complex and highly competitive waters, however, there are a few incredibly bright spots.

First off, the cuteness of kids in uniform.

Resistance to the cuteness is futile.

Next, Jack is learning the value of being a part of a Team. Taking turns, cheering each other on, and learning from each other. Of course, with four-year-olds, learning from each other usually means things like "see how he doesn't hit the kid next to him with the bat? You, also, should not hit the kid next to you with the bat." But, hey, small but important lessons.

Bonus points if you can tell how many of them were
actively picking their noses when I took the photo.

I really didn't expect the swell of pride that comes from watching your kid whack the ball off the tee and go running for first base like a pack of wild hyenas is nipping at his heels. Seeing him listen, work hard, and actually start to improve as he learns to play the game? It's like watching him learn to walk all over again. Parenting bonus, y'all.

He hit the ball! Off the little stationary thingy that is at
exactly the right height for him to hit it! My kid is a GENIUS!
Do not attempt to convince me otherwise.

Finally, there is the incredibly awesome factor of father-son bonding. Never having played any team sports myself, I am just beginning to realize the awesome power of this. Basically, now they have quiet, serious conversations about the vital importance of baseball and they both get to laugh at my expense when I attempt to talk the sports talk. Good times.

Two peas in a red-stitched pod.
You can almost HEAR them mocking
me with their thoughts.

No, really. Very Good Times, indeed.

Once Upon A Time, In April...

Good evening, internets. What a rip-roaring whirlwind it has been. You see, I have been SO incredibly busy with my, uh, glamorous life here in the coutry that my brain was too full of important information (like "where is my baseball mitt?!" and "Honey, do I have any clean boxers?") to do things like.. uh.. locate the camera hanging on the hook where it belongs. Because who in our house actually puts things away where they go?! I ASK YOU! What is this world coming to?

BUT! At long last here am I, and here is my camera. (This is my camera, this is my laptop... one is for shooting, the other for public self-humiliation) (Bonus points if you know the reference.)

So let's take a little stroll down Last Two Weeks Lane, shall we? And because my brain is tired, and I not good make words, we'll make it a picture-book adventure.

THIS, apparently, is the Amish Village.

Tobin is, understandably, nonplussed.

Jack is, as always, too cool for school.
He is also already too cool to be seen with me publicly.
His adolescence should be loads of fun.

Hey, it's Primary season in PA. What ELSE would I be wearing?
(Thanks again, Sarah, for the awesome birthday gift!)

If you want your children to think you are a rock star,
let them sleep in an actual Train Car. It's not quite the Marriott,
but it was worth it to see their brains explode.

Bid Daddy is teh hotnezz.

The best pretzels you will ever eat in your life.
We got there just in time to grab 3 to share amongst
ourselves before they ran out of dough for the day.
Don't forget the lemonade.

Old! Rusty! Junk!
Big Daddy had to physically remove me from this shop.
The most awesomest rusty junk ever. I wanted one of everything.

What, not enough for you? Well, those were the hilights of our PA trip. I still want a giant, rusted sun sculpture to hang in our family room, but I'm limping along without it. (For now.)

I was going to combine this post and the coverage of Tee Ball Opening Ceremonies, but, well, you see... Battlestar Galactica is coming on soon, and I have a few things I have to get done first, and .. well, I know you understand, internets. I mean, you're cute and all... but you're no Katee Sackhoff, you know? Don't take it personally. We can still be friends. Let's totally talk tomorrow.

I Heart Intercourse.

Yep. Same shirt, it's still there.
And yes, I look older than last time. Because I AM.

So, I have more photos of our PA adventures. But I can't post them now, because I just realized we're already 15 minutes late for a playdate next door and I'm still in my jammies, and really... well, let's just say that it takes a certain kind of something to be a half hour late for a playgroup at your neighbor's house. And I have that something. In Spades.