File Under "Parenting Lessons Learned"

"Where is your library book?" I asked impatiently.  If we didn't walk out the door in the next 2 minutes we would definitely miss the school bus.  

"I don't know! Ask Dad! He knows!"

"Dad is on his way to work already, and why would he have any idea where your book is?"

"He had it in his hand this morning. NO! Last night! He had it last night!"

"Get downstairs and get your shoes. I'll call dad."

...

"HURRY!"

And that is how I watched, in slow-motion, as my 5-year-old went tumbling down the stairs, ass-over-tea-kettle.  I flew down the stairs, calculated the likelihood that anything had been broken in the fall and - deeming it safe - scooped him up in my arms and carried him to the sofa.

I surveyed the fat lip and the stream of plump teardrops running over his rosy cheeks as he sobbed into my shirt.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Are you okay? That was scary, wasn't it? Does anything hurt?"

He continued to sniffle into the fabric of my pajamas while I stroked his hair.  Finally, with a deep sigh, he asked in a tiny, trembling voice.. "Mama? Are my teeth loose?"

I carefully checked each one, then reassured him that, no, his teeth were fine. Oh, and that little bit of blood? No, that was just from his lip where his tooth had caught it as his face hit the floor. (*shudder*)  His teeth were fine.

This brought on a fresh wave of sobs, which brought me fresh panic as I rechecked his body for some injury I had missed.  Was there a torn rotator? Maybe a cracked rib I had jostled as I hugged him?

"What is it, buddy?  Does something hurt? What's the matter??"

A hiccup.  Then, as he lifted his big, wet, brown, doe-eyes to mine, through trembling lips he whimpered...

"I really want a loose tooth!"

...

So, yeah. He's fine. The library book was summarily located and he and his brother were each deposited at their respective schools.

Me, on the other hand?  I think I need a vacation.

A Year Without Fear.

Dear Friends, Family, and Peoples of the Internets... Stay at Aum Mom is about to be forever changed. (Both the site and myself.)  And this is going to be big.  

Ready? * Deep Breath * Here goes...

On April 5 I will be 30 years old.  

In the last decade I have been through many transformations.  I have gone through the painful process of fleshing out who I am, what I believe, and where I want to be.  I have spent the last several years (and many dollars in therapy) identifying and acknowledging that I am, in many ways, controlled by my fears.  I inherited an oft-crippling anxiety from my mother, and a compulsive perfectionism from my father.  That's not a judgment on them, but rather an objective observation.

I have never given myself permission to fail.  If failure seemed a likely possibility, I have simply refused to try.  When I have tried, I have been dogged by the constant anxiety that I might make a mistake.  When I have made mistakes or failed at anything I have engaged in the most brutal mental self-flagellation imaginable.

Yes, on April 5 I will be 30 years old.  

For one entire year I am going to wake up every day and look at my life from a new perspective.  I am going to say "yes" to some things I would have said no to before, and I will say "no" to some things I would have agreed to in the past.

I am going to embrace new challenges, and I am not going to let myself quit out of fear of failure.  

I hereby declare this year my Year Without Fear.  In ways big and small, I am going to change my life.  I am going to change my self.  I am going to make an action out of my motto - "Live Life On Purpose".

So what does this all mean? (You and Big Daddy are asking the same question, believe me.)

To begin with, it doesn't mean anything too drastic.  I'm going to start with small things.  I'm going to maybe sometimes wear lipstick.  Did you know I don't really wear lipstick? I wear lip gloss in sheer shades, or lip balm.  Why? I suppose because I have always equated lipstick (especially bright lipstick) with confidence.  It always strikes me as a "look at me" sort of thing to do.  As if a nose ring and occasionally technicolor hair don't make the same statement.  See? I know that it's a silly thing.  It's a small thing.  But for me, it's a big thing.  It's something I have not allowed myself to do.  So I'm going to do it. 

I'm going to stop screening my phone calls, stop fearing the phone in general. I'm going to start wearing high heels again -- something I have stopped doing almost entirely since having babies. 

The idea is to start small, but to face every day with the attitude that I will not allow fear or anxiety to overrule reason in making any decision, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem.

I'm also giving myself permission to screw this up from time to time.  Because I am human (rumors to the contrary have been greatly exaggerated) and because another of my great, irrational fears comes from the knee-jerk response of blaming myself for everything that goes wrong.  

So this year I'm going to be more forgiving of myself.  I'm going to work harder, be braver, and laugh louder.

To top off my adventure, next year -- just before my 31st Birthday -- I will participate in St. Baldrick's Day, 2010.  I'm going to attend an official event and shave my head to raise funds to help cure childhood cancers.  I've always wanted to wear cute hats, but always been too self-conscious to go for it.  It looks like I'm going to have my chance.  (When the time comes a few months down the road for me to start collecting sponsors, I will post the link.  Prepare to click and donate, peoples.  I'll post plenty of photos for you to see the fruits of your labor after the deed is done.)

They say it takes 30 days to establish a habit.  I'm thinking that 365 days will make this one stick.

I'm hoping you'll come along with me for the journey.

Weekend Exposure 31

?: ______________________

My answer can be found here.

Dude.

Yes, I said "Dude".  Let it go, I do that sometimes.  I can't help it; it's the healthy dose of California in my soul.  If you understood the Tao of Mitchell Goosen, you would get it.  Also, did you know Jack Black and Seth Green were also in that movie? Way before they were famous. Weird.

Rambling today, sorry.  It's just that the sun is shining and the air is clear and it smells really good.  Today would probably be a great day to get out in the front yard and start clearing brush for the spring.  But I'm thinking the alignment of the stars could be against it, since I just tried to pull some raisins out of the cupboard and found the cabinet shelf was unhinged.  And then when I tried to fix it, some lonely, misbegotten package of Fun Dip spilled off the shelf and fell all over me.  That stuff is messy.  I fixed the shelf though. Oh, and I do realize my grammar today is even worse than usual.  *shrug*  It's Wednesday.

But all in all I have spent this week in a flurry of anxiety and apprehension.  No, it's a good thing! Really!  See, I somehow stumbled into baking cakes as a hobby.  You know - making them ever cooler and more complicated for the boys' birthdays.  I love doing it; it's like art and sculpture and .. uh... cake! all in one.  So when a friend asked to hire me to do a cake for her daughter I was all "sure, why not?" And then it turned out really awesome and my husband and my friend were all "You should so do this as a business" and I was all "meh. I'm no good at business..." but then that one cake order turned into another order, and another one.. and maybe another.  And BAM! just like that, I'm in business.  

So now in addition to the etsy shop (which is doing better off line than on) I'm booking orders for unique and awesome cakes.  And the best part? Now all those hours of "Ace of Cakes" that I watch on the Food Network can totally be rationalized as research.  heh.

Spending Time Staring...

...at the cuteness.

He can put his feet in his mouth now.  And I am swooning over this. Because I can.

Like A Prairie Dog. Or Maybe Whack-A-Mole?

If you've been following the weekend exposure photos, you probably have a pretty good idea of how I've been feeling lately - even though I have been far and away from actually putting any of it into words.  So let me attempt to do that for you now.

Big Daddy T has a new job.  That's Good Thing one.  He's got a great job, he finally got a great management position (something he's been wanting for a long time now) and I can't tell you what a relief it is.  

Good Thing Two is that Tobin is officially potty-trained and, as of this morning, is attending preschool two mornings a week.  

Good Thing Three is that I am sitting here with my coffee, the baby is asleep, and I have a few moments of absolute solitude for the first time in a very long time.  I should be using this time to do something productive, and I intend to going forward, but for today I thought I should at least plug in for a few minutes.  You know, in case anyone thinks maybe I died or was abducted by aliens.  Or possibly that I drowned in the world's largest latte (which, hey, let's face it: Not a bad way to go!)

I've been doing my best lately to follow my mantra and Live Life On Purpose.  That has involved a lot less computer time (despite what my husband might think) and a lot more time doing things like switching to cloth diapers for Milo (gDiapers, I love you so much I might put you in my will!) and attempting to shake my self-ascribed title of "World's Worst Homemaker EVER."  This is a two-step process: Step One, stop calling myself that. Step Two, stop actually being that.  

Does this even make any sense? Probably no.  But I've been brain-bereft lately.  I'm learning to accept my limitations and stop worrying about making everyone else happy.  It's not an easy thing to do, but I find that crafting helps.  Did I mention I'm making tutu's now?  Yeah. I really need to get photos done and list a few more things on the Etsy site.  Things like superhero capes! And tutus! (I know I said tutus twice. They are Just. That. Awesome.)

So now that I've rambled on and on for quite some time, I'll cut to the chase for anyone still following along at home.  I'd like to say I will be posting more frequently (not to mention coherently) and perhaps with fewer parenthetical asides.  I'd LIKE to say that, but the truth is I will probably continue to post somewhat sporadically for the foreseeable future.  Life just keeps getting busier and if I think too much about it I stop actually living it; blogging with regularity requires a lot of the "thinking about it".  I'm turning over a new leaf of sorts, though it's hard to explain exactly when I'm still on the first cuppa the day.  

I've lost 10 pounds, I'm working on getting to bed by 10:30 and up by 6:30, and I have acquired a jogging stroller so I can start getting my body back.  There's a lot to say about ALL of this, but I'm not sure I have the wherewithal to say any of it right now.  See how this happens? Too much to say, not enough words. 

So I'm on a sort of hiatus this year.  I'm not gone, I'll be back now and again, but I think I need a reprieve.

Then again, I could change my mind tomorrow.  I'm funny that way.

Weekend Exposure 28

?: What fear have you recently faced?

My answer can be found here.

Weekend Exposure 27

?: What are you following

My answer can be found here.

Weekend Exposure 26

?: Where is your heart?

My answer can be found here.

Tired.

A neighbor I have not seen in a few weeks saw me at the bus stop this morning.  She asked how the baby is doing, then told me "Wow! You look really tired!"

Okay, so that's really not a great thing to say to a frazzled mom.  

I was a little affronted, I'll admit.  The thing is, she's right.  I DO look tired.  I AM tired.

But this afternoon I'm feeling a little less so.  Because Big Daddy had a good interview this morning, and regardless of whether this solves our problem of unemployment or not it was nice to have something positive happen.  I didn't realize how clenched I've been lately.  Medication can be a wonderful thing when you really need it, and - in addition to lessening the inexplicable state of depression -  I have literally felt the Zoloft soothing my anxiety. Until the medication began to relieve it, I didn't realize I was even feeling anxiety.  Since the layoff I have been coping almost miraculously well... for me.  However, after that spot of good news today I could honestly feel my shoulders relax as though a weight had been lifted from them.

I haven't been sleeping well.  I fall asleep well enough once I try, but then I wake up constantly during the night with a feeling of sharp anxiety.  It doesn't help that the kids still wake up and climb into bed with us more often than not, or that Milo has started waking in the night for a 2am feeding.  That said, I think my "tired" has as much to do with stress as it does with lack of sleep.  

I thought there was a point in here somewhere when I started writing.  Now that I'm here, it doesn't feel like that really panned out, does it?  Ah, well.  I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm still here.  I have not abandoned this project, but I have not been in a place to articulate much lately.  I'm coping fairly well, and I'm enjoying lots of snuggles and giggles and kisses with the boys.  My life at the moment is pretty good, even if it probably includes too much chocolate and too little sex.  I'll be back to form eventually; until then, forgive the sporadic posting and general lack of enthusiasm, won't you?  

Weekend Exposure 25

?: What are you giving another chance?

My answer can be found here.

Weekend Exposure 24

?: What is your current distraction?

My answer can be found here.

More Than You Needed To Know

Because my brain is appropriately scrambled, allow me to share the jumble of thoughts and events with you.  (Also, please notice that I did back-post Weekend Exposure again.  Because all the cool kids are doing it...)

Let's see.  Where to begin? 

How about "Big Daddy got laid off and then I went to Utah and then, oh, I'm opening an Etsy shop!"

There.  That's the neat summary for anyone who doesn't want to read further. 

Still here?  Good!  Okay.  So, yes, Big Daddy T did, in fact, face another layoff when the company that bought his employer basically got rid of his entire division.  That's the bad news.  The good news is that they are doing everything they can to help him move to a new position within the company while he also pursues every available opportunity.  Friends have come out of the woodwork to help him find a new job, for which we are eternally grateful.  It's awesome to have friends who worry almost as much about our little family as we do.

So, while the job search was on, I had a previously arranged trip to Utah to attend to.  Milo and I boarded a plane, and then another plane, and finally landed in the City of the Great Salt Lake.  When we left DC the temperature was in the low single-digits, so it was actually nice to be someplace in the 30's and 40's.  It was even nicer to be with family, and Milo predictably charmed his way into hearts across the board.  I went to a Sundance party, met the president of the Utah Sundance Commission (she was lovely, by the way) and some other very cool people, and was officially banned from the game SceneIt by my older sister after winning too many times in a row.  (Because I am the Queen of Useless Trivia, which is not as prestigious as it sounds. I'd much rather be the Queen of Bloomingdale's... or "Queen of Everything" or perhaps "Queen of anything other than Useless Trivia". )  

Any-who, Gumbo was made and devoured.  Dancing was done and laughter was had.  My 46-year-old sister got hit on by a 25-year-old from Las Vegas who thought she was 28.  Oh! And then my 3 sisters, my sister-in-law, and I pretended to be the polygamous sister-wives to my brother-in-law in order to avoid the attentions of drunken Utah rednecks at the club we went to.  So there was that.  And yes, it was as ridiculous and awesome as you would imagine. (My sisters? They're hot.)  When you get that group together, I am somehow the least wild of the bunch.  And, yes, I realize that - that right there? - that's a frightening concept.

So as they were discussing their behavior and giggling madly, I happened to casually remind them that I HAVE A BLOG.  And the silence that followed, it was deafening.  Of course, I wouldn't be so heartless as to post the photographic evidence of actual family in the act of Letting Their Hair Down. (Especially family in possession of photos of my youth that could doubtless be used for purposes of blackmail. So far they've resisted the temptation.) It was tempting.... but I forgot about Karma.

Karma was listening, and decided to teach me a lesson for my evil thoughts by disappearing my camera at dinner the last night of my trip.  As went the camera, so went every photo of our adventure.  All my photos of family with the baby? gone.  All the pictures of my sisters and I bonding? gone.  The video of the flamenco guitarist from the Sundance gala? Gone.

You get the idea.

So while that was a sour note to end my adventure, it was quite probably the best visit I have ever had with my family.  I also got to hang out with Dr. Allie and the Amazing Wonder Steve, and went with them to celebrate Dr. Allie's Wicked-Cool Sister's Birthday.  Dr. Allie has one of those families that makes their own fun and has so many in-jokes that you can't help but get swept up in their magic.  Also, they invented "Pass The Baby" which is maybe the best party game ever that doesn't involve nudity.

With many hugs and well-wishes, friends and family and various beloveds said our adieus and Milo and I were sent back towards home. (Leaving out the part wherein I braved 7 hours of fly-time travel, one plane change in Denver, and a fussy baby.  Both ways.)  

Oh, and I might have watched OUR NEW PRESIDENT take the oath of office from the Salt Lake City airport.  Also, I might have shed a few tears of happy shock when the airport crowd burst into spontaneous whooping and applause.  It was a moment I'll remember the rest of my life.

And then? And then I came home and started making baby shoes.  Because I am crazy! And - hello! are you new here? - I am really crazy!  

And now crazy has an Etsy Shop!  There's nothing in it yet; I'd like to have a few things finished so I can put them all up at once instead of one at a time.  But! I will also take requests!

Items that friends and strangers on the internet can purchase will include:

Baby Shoes

Leather-soled Baby shoes for new and practicing walkers

Jester hats

Personalized Initial Super Hero or Heroine capes

Crochet hats of various varieties and colors

Crochet fingerless gloves/arm warmers

And probably other things I have not thought of yet.

Other than the yarn items (which obviously require new materials) all fabric items are made from repurposed fabrics! Because I am eco friendly! And maybe also because I found a really awesome corduroy jacket that was several sizes too small at a thrift store, and decided to make it into a pair of booties because the pattern was so awesome.

So without further ado, I present: Sweet Cheeks Cupcakery.  There will be a few items up by early next week, so stop by and please don't let the fact that my husband is suddenly unemployed guilt you into buying more environmentally friendly, adorable stuff than you need. (Only let it guilt you into buying exactly as much stuff as you need. heh. Shame people, I have none.  What I do have is a mortgage and a husband, 3 kids, one very large dog, 2 cats, and 2 Betta fish who expect to be fed semi-regularly.  So, you know, I'll totally whore myself out work crafty magic for your dollars.  Hey, how about a photo? Here are the shoes I made for my Niece and her Brand Spankin' New Baby Boy:

So thanks for letting me promote myself there, briefly. And don't worry, we're keeping our spirits up.  Every time Jack asks a thoughtful question about President Obama, I smile involuntarily.  Watching the snow plow clear our street as we get our first real snow of the year? Another smile.  Hearing the kids burst into spontaneous rendition of "Party in my tummy" from Yo Gabba Gabba?  .. you guessed it - smile yet again.

We're going to get through this, even if we come out the other side with nothing but a smile and each other.  Cheers!

Weekend Exposure 23

?: When I trust myself...

My answer can be found here.

Weekend Exposure 22

?: What are you holding out for?

My answer can be found here.

A Marvelous Work and A Wonder.

The above title comes from an LDS book of which my mother is rather fond.  I'm not talking about the book, though.  I'm just stealing the title.  I think it applies.  You could also call this post "Look what my amazing boobs did! Why am I not losing more weight?!" but I thought that might be an overshare...

Weekend Exposure

?: What is your intention for the coming week(s)?

My answer can be found here.

WOW. Just... Wow.

Weekend Exposure

So Dr. Allie's good friend, Amanda B., started the Weekend Exposure project.  Allie has been on me to get involved, and I have resisted because ... well, we all know how I am with doing anything on a regular basis.  I am not good with establishing routines.

That said, Dr. Allie assures me that I am allowed to miss whenever I miss, "but at least TRY it, won't you, MeL?" and really, the woman has made it through medical school and still talks to me even though the most educated thing I have done this week is watch several episodes of Oswald, which apparently teaches me about "Interpersonal Relationships" according to Noggin but I'm pretty sure that's a crock so that slacker parents (*cough*like me*cough*) can feel justified when they let their kids watch too much television.

ANywAYs, here I am on Monday - technically making this "Monday Exposure" but I figured that starting a day later than the weekend is a good way to establish (for anyone keeping score) that your expectations for me to be on top of this should not be too high.  heh.

Weeked Exposure 20

?: What inspires laughter in you?

My answer can be found here.

She Bangs.

So the other day my hair, which has been left uncut and growing free (and so very earth-mother since about June)  was getting in my face.  This was bothering me for some unknown reason, so I did what any reasonably insane woman would do: I cut bangs.  In my bathroom sink.  Which successfully transformed me into a reasonable facsimile of a 6-year-old girl.

I went with it for 24 hours. Partially because - hey, why not? - and partially because it was New Years' Day and everything was closed.  Short of taking a set of hedge clippers to my 'do, there wasn't much to be done.

So yesterday I walked into ye olde local hair salon (the cheap one, because I can't currently rationalize paying the prices at the good place) and off came about 8 inches of hair. 

Long story short, here we are.  Meet MeL 2009.  

Hopefully the hair is just the first step towards a return to MeL 2007 or - even better - MeL 2002.  Which is to say, internets, I have about 50 pounds to lose. Won't you join me as I embark on this obviously insane attempt?

I Am Much More Cheerful Than This Post Would Indicate.

So. That happened.

And by "that" I mean I spent Christmas Eve night hunched over the toilet in fervent prayer to ye olde porcelain gods as a raging 12-hour stomach bug had its way with me.  It wasn't pretty, it wasn't pleasant, and only my husband will ever know the full extent of what he cleaned up for me that night.  Suffice it to say that it was maybe the most thoughtful and self-sacrificing Christmas gift ever.  Nay, perhaps "Christmas Miracle" is not too strong a word for his actions.  But my perspective could have been skewed by the fact that I was incoherent with the vomiting and the diarrhea and such.  I might also be half-convinced I saw Elvis in a Santa hat streaking naked through our back yard out my bathroom window, so my impressions of that evening should likely be taken with a grain of salt. (A really, really big grain of salt.  Perhaps a salt lick?)

So the whole family has been through that bug and back again, and we're all well just in time for New Year's Eve.  Also, just in time for me to realize exactly how boring we have officially become as our NYE plans consist of a bottle of champagne (which I keep forgetting to put on ice - one sec - okay, done!) and probably several hours of me whining about my husband playing Gears of War 2 instead of hanging out with me because there is nothing more interesting to do.  If we're feeling frisky, we may break out the Scrabble. (And not Strip Scrabble, either. Also not "Scrabble" in the euphemistic sense, but the actual game of Scrabble.... which, incidentally, became way less interesting to play together after I scored an opening Bingo with "tornado" on my first turn when we played one time at a bed and breakfast in Maine and do you love how I am rambling this sentence on in the hopes that you'll just go ahead and realize there's nothing useful to be read in this post?)

Oh 2008.  You brought us Milo, for which I am forever thankful, and of course the candidate on whom I have pinned my hopes for a better future for my country ... well, he got elected. (Obama Mama - Hollah!) but beyond that I'm struggling to find anything else that was good to mention.  I mean, we are fortunate to have a roof over our heads and my husband is still (for the moment, anyway) employed -- allowing me to continue my decadent lifestyle of Pop Tarts and network television -- and on that point we are doing better than a lot of other people.

2007, for us, was the year of The Miscarriage, the year of the Herniated Discs, the year of Appendicitis and Emergency Surgery.  It was the year my husband was on travel for about 4 months straight and the year my Grandmother died.  So 2008 was a year of such high hopes.  And yet here I sit without my winning lottery ticket or a million-dollar idea to change the world and take early retirement.

So, I guess what I'm saying is: 2008 was my year of the status quo.  And I suppose, given the alternatives, that is probably just fine with me.

But 2009? If you could somehow drop a big bag of money on my head, or wake me up in the middle of the night with a really supremely awesome way to change the world or at least move somewhere closer to a nice beach? That would be really Quite Okay with me...

I seem to have misplaced my cheer, but I'm hopeful I can locate it somewhere in 2009.  In the mean time, I've still got my sense of humor and - really - what more can I ask for?

Happy New Year, Internets.

One and Two and Three.

First there was just one.  He was one, he was only, and he was ours.  He was perfection, and we spoiled him with abandon.

Then there were two.  There was one and there was two, separate but equal in the eyes of the house.  Everything was a division -- Mom and Dad, Big and Little.  One-to-one defense, if you will. A constant attempt to be fair, and spoil them equally.

Now there are three.  Where there was once a competition between one and two, now I sit here on the sofa next to our tiny three.  One and two climb the stairs, engrossed in animated discussion, off on an adventure that will doubtless end in one bedroom completely destroyed.  But there are bad guys to be vanquished and heroes to be made.

Three is tiny and helpless.  Three has his mother.  One and two seem to understand this.  They have each other.  And they break my heart with the sweetness of it.

All Jacked Up!

Rounding out our week-long-ish rotation of "Photos of my Offspring!" it is now the turn of the eldest.  The Jack.  The impish/angsty teenage man in the body of a sturdy 5-year-old.  Do not mess with him, he will charm your heart... and THEN break it by telling you "Mom? Can you go take a shower? Like, right now? Because you smell REALLY bad."  Even if you just showered and, really, it's your breath that stinks because how were you supposed to know the kid would want to kiss you before 8am?  And who brushes their teeth BEFORE their coffee, anyway???

You have been warned.

Ignore the possessed demon baby. I was too lazy to fix red-eye.

One of the many "action" poses in his repetoire.

Action pose meets Thanksgiving headband.

At his Kindergarten Thanksgiving feast. He is obviously too cool for his Mama.

The Faces Of Tobin

The Son Also Rises.

Picked Up The Phone, Gave You A Call.

You might have noticed I haven't been around much lately.

You wouldn't be the only one to notice.

My husband? He has noticed, too.  And as I've been physically in the room with him, that I haven't been around much is kind of a big deal.

I don't feel terrible.  I'm not moping or staring blankly at walls.

Not yet, anyway.

But after going 3 days before I remembered I hadn't had a shower, and looking blankly at my husband when I said "Wait, it's DECEMBER already?!!" because, honestly, I was at Thanksgiving and everything and it's not like I suffered "lost time" but I honestly couldn't tell you what I did the last month.  Except watch lots of TV and keep 3 children alive.  Oh, and install a floor, but that might have just been a manic episode.  Or pathological home improvement.  But I have spent the past 2 months getting from beginning of day to end without a hint of anticipation for the next.  I'm going through the motions but, as my husband gently pointed out to me, I'm not really here.  He also gave me a hand squeeze or two and reminded me that it's okay to need help, and that nobody expects me to make this all better on my own.

Which is to say, internets, that I made a phone call today.  I have an appointment Thursday morning.  I'll be shaking hands with my old friend Zoloft.  

Hopefully I will soon remember the feeling that life is full of joy and not just a trial to be muddled through as best I can.  Hopefully I will rediscover an enjoyment of writing, of cooking, of quiet afternoons.  Hopefully I will rediscover what it is like to look forward to... well, anything.  And then, hopefully, I will truly be back... and maybe I'll even find joy in telling you about it.

Wish me luck.

Photos Will Have To Do.

What, You Didn't See Me?

Because I was so totally here.  I just, uh, wasn't posting.

Yes, it is November again and this marks the first time in 3 years that I have decided NOT to participate in the insanity that is NaBloPoMo.  (National Blog Posting Month for the uninitiated).  And I thought I would feel a lot more guilty about it, but mostly I feel relieved - like a kid on a snow day who didn't study for a test.

I have not been feeling my blog mojo lately.  I think this is likely due to sleep deprivation and perhaps a touch of the blues.  Oh, and also due to pathological home improvement, but I'm not posting photos of my finished living room floor yet... Oh No, I am not.

You see, my darling husband, Mister Big Daddy, got called away at the last minute to the Czech Republic and I'm tormenting him by making him wait until his return to get the full effect of my efforts.  So all y'all will just have to wait until after tomorrow to see what my crazy hath wrought.  (Trust me, though, it's pretty spectacular. I am officially In Love with the TrafficMaster vinyl flooring planks.  Like laminate - but cheaper! Also can be installed by a crazy person, such as myself, wielding only a box cutter and a pair of flat-nosed pliers.)

Dear TrafficMaster, I just gave you the most awesome recommendation EVER.. on my website.  Because I installed your stuff in a fit of post-partum nesting frenzy and I still managed not to screw it up too badly and it looks quite nice.  How's about you send me a few gajillion dollars because, really, who doesn't want a positive review that includes words like "Crazy" and "Box Cutter"?!  

Sincerely, 

Crazy Mother of 3 Boys (and yes, I realize the "crazy" is redundant there.)

So.

Um. Wait, what were we talking about again?  I seem to have lost that train of thought somewhere between removing a soaked pull-up from Toby and sipping at my cold coffee while eyeing his Cheerios.  Is it wrong to steal breakfast cereal from your toddler when he's not looking? I figure he'll never miss those 3 pieces, unless he smells them on my breath.  He's sneaky that way. I think he's going to be a detective some day.  Or maybe a train conductor, what with the Thomas & Friends obsession.  But hopefully not the creepy guy who asks all the neighborhood kids to come over and play with the trains in his basement.

I'm suddenly realizing it's probably not a great idea to post in my current condition.  And by "condition" I mean when one's husband is across an ocean and very likely enjoying himself some Viagra gingerbread.  No, really.  Here's the photo:

Apparently Czech gingerbread is famous.

I'm hoping it's not for the reason this would indicate.

Thankfully, Big Daddy is now on his way to Prague to catch a flight that will eventually bring him home again.  I'm pretty sure he packed half my brain in his suitcase when he left.  I'm hoping he remembers to bring it back again, and that it hasn't been displaced by souvenirs for the boys and suspicious gingerbread wrappers.

The Balance Myth.

This is why you love me: Because I will rear my head in your airspace to drop a rant on a random Friday morning.

Today's myth to be busted: "Mothering Balance"

It's dangled out there in front of us as the epitome of "doing it right".  Find that balance! The elusive "work-life-mothering" balance.

Allow me to pose to you a radical and revolutionary idea for our time: There Is NO Such Thing As Balance.

Life is not balanced, and whenever I attempt to ponder this mythical "balance" I find that the hours in my day are spent in the planning and pondering instead of the actual living.

Instead of running ourselves ragged attempting to live up to some sort of balance, let's just admit that - most of us? - we muddle through as best we can.  Some days we do too much work, some days too much playing with legos and too few dishes.  The only balance I expect to achieve is to get to the end of the day and not feel like I've screwed anything up too badly.

So, please, Oprah? Regis and Kelly? GMA Ladies? STOP with the deluge of "experts" telling me how to find Balance.  It doesn't exist.  Like unicorns or decent laundry stain remover, I believe it's a pretty legend that exists only in the minds of the believers.  

I hereby declare that I will no longer concern myself with finding the Balance.  I'm going to concentrate on completing the essential tasks of the day and using whatever time is left in whatever way I see fit.  

And what do you know, so far it's working out pretty well.  Apparently when you stop trying to figure out how to find something and just start Living your life On Purpose... the balance will take care of itself.

*Disclaimer: The above was written by a mother of 3 while holding her six-week-old infant. She got 4 hours of sleep last night.  She hasn't finished the laundry but she vacuumed her whole house yesterday, fed her family, packed a school lunch, cleaned the toy room, nursed the baby a dozen or so times, and she may or may not be typing this at her kitchen table while pantless.  Which is to say she's doing pretty well in her assessment, and has not wasted a moment of her precious time wondering if she is "balancing" all of her responsibilities and goals well.  Later today she plans to go to the playground with her toddler and perhaps lay a new floor in her living room.  This is Life: Lived On Purpose, but not necessarily As Planned.

Still Standing. (or Laying Down, as the case may be)

I know you thought I had abandoned you.  I keep doing these periodic check-ins and then disappearing again.  And I know you forgive me, what with life being totally taken over by the Infant Overlord and his co-Dictators, the Demanders of Snacks.

I'm still here.  WE'RE still here.  I'm still getting over this cold/virus/what-have-you, which includes coughing up things I have only ever seen in my nightmares until now.

Today marks 6 weeks since Milo joined our little posse.  I can't imagine life without him... all glorious, 12 pounds of him.  No, that's not a typo.  He came into the world at 9 pounds 14 ounces, left the hospital 10 ounces lighter, and by his two week check-up had gone up to 10 pounds 7 ounces.  At his one month he was up to 12 pounds 5 ounces.  His pediatrician chuckled and said "So the breast feeding is going well, then..."  Um, yes.  Also, I am thinking of attaching a storefront to my chest and selling it off as soft serve ice cream.  (You're welcome, PETA.)

Also at his one month check-up, the doctor noticed a heart murmur.  

So today is going to be spent having my lady parts inspected by my cheerfully silly OB (whose jokes remind me of my Uncle George) and a visit to a cardiologist who will inspect my tiny wonder and declare him perfect.  We're not discussing any other possible outcome, because my head might explode all over the clean kitchen and then someone would have to scrape brain matter off of the light fixtures.

Which is my offhand way of saying I am doing my very best not to Freak. Out.  Because murmurs are incredibly common in babies and children, and most of the time they are entirely benign.  And still, knowing this, if I think too much about it I start to break out in a cold sweat and my own heart skips a few beats, as though it is trying to send them straight to Milo's heart - just in case it's not as strong as it should be.

The thing is, though, you see... MY heart is not as strong as it should be when it comes to my boys.  Add in the lack of sleep, the lack of clothes that will fit this tired, stretched out body, and the uncertainty of everything right now and... well... there just has not been a lot of me left over to pour out into this chronicle we call "blog".

So forgive me if I continue to be a little sporadic in the posting.  Rest assured I am coping quite well with the post-partum part of all of this.  In fact, I'm getting ready to lay down a new vinyl plank floor in our living room, and the carpet installers will be here this week to replace the old carpets with lovely new carpets.  New carpets which have never been used as a litter box by cats, dog, or small humans. (Seriously. Toby's idea of potty training this week was to give the playroom carpet a fecal frosting.  It was lovely.  I'm taking the cost of the therapy, which I'll need in order to recover from the horrors, out of his college fund.)

But just so you know that we're still here... and perhaps so you can understand when I spend the few minutes I find in the day that could probably be used for writing to instead gaze at his wonder... I present, once again, Milo. 

Happy Halloween

Do you know what scared me today?  That I realized I forgot to fax in my forms for BlogHer Ads.  (Hi! If you are reading this, I am sending them today. Please don't burn then in effigy to my stupidity. Thanks!)

Yes, I will hopefully be adding a little adverts column over there <--- or perhaps over there --->

Moving right along...

Here is what you came here for.  I know you don't want to hear from me right now, because even I don't want to hear from me. (Except to share that the pediatrician confirmed Jack's ear infection this morning.  FUN! Games! Excitement! PUS!) Excuse my sarcasm, apparently someone forgot to put the magic happy dust in my coffee this morning.  I'll try to find it by tonight, otherwise my happy clown costume will have to be a sad clown instead.... and nobody likes the sad clown, do they?

Here are the photos from Jack's school carnival last week.  I'll try to take more costume photos of the kids at trick-or-treats tonight, but I make no promises because I am still coughing up green fraggles.  I might need to go to the doctor myself, but I'm running on Dr. Allie's "you are only sick if you acknowledge you are sick" theory, which only works if you are someone who should totally know better. 

This public service message brought to you by the number Q.  Also, I might need to go lay down now.  But first, here's one more photo of Milo... because I can't help myself.

The Roof Is On Fire.

Hello, Internets. Have you missed me?  

I'd go into detail about where I've been, but that would involve a detailed description of the things I have been coughing up and nobody needs to read about that.

Between being sick, taking care of sick kids, and - you know - not sleeping (what with having a newborn in the house and all) we are trying to refinance the mortgage and going along with Toby's plans to slowly potty train himself.  Oh, and the mountain of laundry threatens to consume us all.  Remind me, please: in case of an avalanche, you're supposed to put your arms up over your head to make a hole so you can breathe, right?  I'm assuming that works as well with dirty sweat pants as with snow.

Which is to say "HALP! I am losing my mind! Please send a nanny, a case of mallomars, and a check for 1 million dollars!"

Yesterday was a really special day.  Allow me to share it with you.

The appraiser was due at 2pm to scope out the house and determine if we can refinance to a low, 30 year fixed rate.  The alternative would be sucking it up with the ARM adjusts next fall and waving bye-bye to any hopes of funding the kids' collective college educations.  So, yeah, we really need the house to appraise.

In front of our house sits a huge Bradford Pear tree. 

There are two things you should know.  First, Bradford Bears are notoriously weak trees. Builders love them because they grow fast and give the illusion that a new neighborhood has some foliage, but they are infamous for toppling in strong weather.  Second, our neighborhood and all of the streets in it are named for some variation of the word "Wind".  

You can see where this is going.

So yesterday I'm minding my own business, getting ready to run the steam cleaner over a few spots on the carpet to prepare for the appraiser (because every little bit helps, right...?) when the power goes out.  Since we only have a cordless phone I had to rely on my cell phone.  That's when I noticed the batteries were almost dead, and realized that this would probably be the day that Jack fell and re-broke his collar bone and of course the school wouldn't be able to reach me. (which didn't happen, but have I mentioned that the day he broke it to begin was the first time I had gone more than 10 minutes from home in months?  And I had to turn around and come back without even getting inside the kids museum we had driven almost an hour to get to? Yeah.)

So Toby, Milo and I trekked to our local MegaSuperCrazyMart to get me a car charger because, really? I don't already own one of those? But no, I didn't. So we got one.

We pulled back up to the house and I immediately thought "Hey! Where'd that huge hedge in the middle of my yard come from?"  And then I realized that it was actually one third of the tree.  I would have taken a photo of that sight for you, but by the time I got the car unloaded and got the kids in the house and got lunch started... well, here:

Yeah, see. Now 2 parts are down.

And that last part? It's pointed right at my living room.

So there was a dilemma, the solving of which involved me, my pregnant neighbor, a hacksaw, and reluctant assistance from my (skeptical, bordering on terrified) home appraiser (who arrived minuts after I did).  Also, as the last portion of tree began to fall its controlled fall and veered horrifically towards the house... well, let's just not say anything to my mother or my OB/GYN about me leaping into the air and swinging from a branch in order to lure the hunk of bludgeoning death to fall onto the driveway instead of my roof.

So now our front yard looks like this:

And a tree-removal guy is coming this afternoon to haul away the carnage.  

In addition to drastically reducing the curb appeal of the property, the loss of our tree means that we now have to be much more careful about ensuring the blinds are closed before parading around the house in various stages of undress.

Also the appraiser was sure the tree was coming down on either the house or my head and he was obviously terrified at the prospect of his involvement in this catastrophe.  The moment the tree was safely felled the man tore out of here like zombies were after him. (The slow-moving sort of zombies; ones which would require you to move quickly and efficiently but not so fast as to break into an outright run.)

So that's the short version of what has happened to me the past week. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go finish coughing up this lung.  Perhaps later I will post cute baby pictures to cheer us all up.

Waxing Quickly Political...

Because I likes a little politics with my breakfast... (which, this morning, consists of the kids' leftover scrambled eggs and an english muffin plus a liter of coffee, if anyone's interested.)

... here is what Peggy Noonan (of all people) had to say about Sarah Palin in her column Friday: (excerpted):

She doesn’t think aloud. She just … says things.

Her supporters accuse her critics of snobbery: Maybe she’s not a big “egghead” but she has brilliant instincts and inner toughness. But what instincts? “I’m Joe Six-Pack”? She does not speak seriously but attempts to excite sensation — “palling around with terrorists.” If the Ayers case is a serious issue, treat it seriously. She is not as thoughtful or persuasive as Joe the Plumber, who in an extended cable interview Thursday made a better case for the Republican ticket than the Republican ticket has made. In the past two weeks she has spent her time throwing out tinny lines to crowds she doesn’t, really, understand. This is not a leader, this is a follower, and she follows what she imagines is the base, which is in fact a vast and broken-hearted thing whose pain she cannot, actually, imagine. She could reinspire and reinspirit; she chooses merely to excite. She doesn’t seem to understand the implications of her own thoughts.

So, uh, yeah.  Let's just leave it at that.  

10 Days New

Milo, My Love: A Story in Pictures.

"Before"

Pay no attention to the chins.  It's water weight, I swear. I don't really have 3 chins.

Labor is hard work.

Being born is hard work, too.

"Hello, world.  Please to be turning down the lights."

And baby makes... uh... five.  HOLY COW. 

Also, pitocin makes you swell.  A LOT.  I don't really have six chins.  

Enough about the chins.  This is the reason you're really here.  

Yes, he really is JUST. THAT. AWESOME.

Enough to justify all those capital letters. And more.

Milo & Me

Milo Duran

9/29/08  5:34pm EST

9 lbs 14 oz,  20.5"

Yes, those cheeks DO taste like heaven.

So on the way to the hospital our camera fell out of the bag.

Thankfully, Big Daddy's Mama came to the rescue with hers, so we were able to get great photos of Milo as soon as he came into the world.

Unfortunately, we haven't been able to get the photos downloaded from the camera because of cable issues.

Fortunately, this hospital (the chi-chi one I mentioned before?) now has WiFi in the patient rooms.  And I have my trusty macbook, with the built-in camera.  

Long story made somewhat shorter, that explains the fuzzy photo.  Better photos will be forthcoming, but for now - how can you complain? LOOKIT MAH BABY!

One Last Look Before I Go.

I woke up this morning with a strange sense of peace. 

Also with the realization that I really, really had to pee.  

And so it is that this, the final day of this pregnancy, begins.

The boys and I are celebrating with toasted-coconut donettes while Daddy has one final opportunity to sleep in before he has "big kid" duty for the next 2 weeks.  Me? I'll be the one passed out with a baby attached to one nipple.  (I'm suddenly imagining the google searches that last sentence will no doubt invite, and it would be funny if it wasn't so sad.  *insert Jedi Mind Trick wave here* "This is not the porn you are looking for".)

I'm going to go ahead and recommend that nobody expects to see anything in this space for the next few days - unless of course Big Daddy is feeling ambitious and decides to post some photos while I'm in the hospital.

Thanks for all the love and well-wishes through this pregnancy - especially this last month.  My sanity has been kept just barely in check some days, and it's always nice to have the emails and comments cheering us on.  Even better than a caramel latte - and if you know how I love my coffee then you will appreciate the profoundness of that statement.

And so, dear internets, for the moment I will bid you adieu as I head out on this next leg of our Adventures in Baby Making.  

See you on the flip side, my peoples.

Or "Why I Obviously Need More Therapy".

See, I've developed an obsession with Facebook.  Which goes well with my addiction to Bloglines and Twitter, especially since the internet is the only thing that induces me to actually talk to other humans on many a day. 

And if you didn't already know I tend towards the reclusive, HELLO and welcome late to the party.

So the ADS on Facebook.  They have, so far, been wickedly in tune to my brain.  I think they're using some sort of advertisement brain ray to suck keywords from my brain.  Remind me to start wearing a tinfoil hat when sitting in front of the computer.

Today I was minding my own business, absently perusing the status updates while I waited for my cnn.com video to load, when I started seeing ads for birth announcements.

Well Crap.

This is the part where I confess that I have not once, not even for second, given any proper thought to what I am going to do about birth announcements.  

With the first two babies I was ambitious and creative and made my own.  I am, after all, supposed to be a photographer.  Linen paper and a good printer was all it took to come up with something I could distribute with abandon.

That was then, y'all.  

Now? Now I am desperately trying to live up to the expectation I set that I would not be one of those moms who lets the third kid get lost in the shuffle.  And the internet is making it so very easy to create fabulous birth announcements in a range of lovely designs, and at the cost of only about half the kid's college education.

So you see, Uncle Sam... before you go giving a huge check to these silly failing banks, PLEASE understand that the $2200 cost per citizen?  I already have that earmarked for printed paper products.  Because I am a good consumer, and also because I am high on estrogen and popsicles... and spending unholy amounts of money on something pretty trivial seems like a preferable alternative to actually, you know, making something myself.

Thank you for your attention to this vitally important PSA.  We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.  At our house, this means Noggin.

Are we there yet?

So after the doctor's appointment on Monday wherein I still had no cervical progress, my OB took pity on me and said "Okay, let's schedule that induction".

I heard the words "Tuesday night check-in and Wednesday induction" and nearly wept with joy.

Then the chi-chi hospital Birthing Center (where I had Toby and determined to have this baby, too, even though it's almost an hour away because it is just that posh, people) broke my fragile little heart by not having any openings.

No openings until Sunday night.

Which means that I will be induced Monday morning.  Which is also a full 2 days past my due date, which makes me want to weep again.

BUT.  But at least we have a date, peeps.  Monday! I'm having a baby on Monday!  And hopefully he won't be so huge by then that he won't fit through my delicate pink parts.  (And to the Lady Who Did Not Know Me at Walmart who decided to tell me I was "for sure having at least a 12 pounder! - you can suck it, Lady.  Keep your opinions to yourself. Unless you want to tell me I look fabulous and, by the way, did I know that I also smell really nice? Because THAT is all you are allowed to say to a pregnant woman you do not know unless you want her to get medieval on you.  If she could actually do that, anyway, but I'm too pregnant to lift this economy-size pack of toilet paper and swing it over my head to bash you with so JUST GO AWAY ALREADY!)

Phew.  Okay, so I feel a little better now.  Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.

Now I just have to figure out how to fill some hours between now and Sunday night.  You know, some stuff that's more fun than the laundry and vacuuming that I need to do anyway.  So far? I have decided to work on neglected crochet projects and maybe bake some cookies.  Yes, my own ambition impresses me as much as it does you.  (*cough*)

Yep. Still Pregnant.

39 weeks.  One week to go before we start blaring Black Sabbath at the belly in hopes of torturing the baby out.  

Doctor's appointment later today.  I'm not getting my hopes up.  Still looking for the services of a good cervix whisperer, y'all, because we need that 1cm so induction can begin.

Seriously, that is all.  I am now spent.  I think it's time for a cookie and a nap.

Doom and Gloom - Courtesy Guest Poster: Big Daddy.

Oh how I love you Uncle Sam!

No sooner had I read of AIG possibly being toast...it did, in fact, happen.  Feds are going to gobble it up.  80% ownership for the feds and an 85 billion dollar loan.  How kind. 

So not that I want to shake the tree of oddities and doom but when does one throw their arms up and say, "Welp, it's been great but this whole FREE MARKET ECONOMY thing is done."  Not that I BELIEVE that but the past year, especially these past few days, have certainly been a signal that it's not all it's cracked up to be.  

And to make a turn for "are we really having this conversation?" territory..  What American companies actually still remain?  GM?  Rumor is they're asking for a 50 billion dollar government-backed loan since their stock is in junk status.  Not that there is enough liquidity out there for them anyways.  So what then?  America's one and only company that can break the addiction to oil goes the way of the dodo?  I mean, what are we talking about here?  Will this country become a nation with a state-controlled economy?  By the time this is all cleared I'd wager that more than a good bit of America's private financing institutions will be gov-owned, gov-funded, or in some obligated stance with the government.  

So to follow my slippery logic to it's dubious end: Could we be seeing a situation where the US Government owns US Companies and fills these companies not with regular hard-working Americans but overpaid contractors (ZING!) and outsourced talent?  Will there be large swaths of the population working to pay taxes on takeover costs of companies the Government now directs - to become profit engines who lay off Americans and hire full working divisions overseas?   All the while continuing to squeeze the middle class and profitable tax base until we're left with a depleted middle class, further disillusioned with a government who runs all the financial institutions, has GM on the dole, and spends over 30% of its money on the military industrial complex instead of health care, education, and infrastructure projects?  

.... oh wait...  that's already happening.

I hate being chicken little but if you asked me 8 years ago... 4 years ago... hell... even TWO years ago if we'd be where we are today (hell, even 10 miles from where we are today) I'd not have believed you.  WHY would I?  Oh well... I heard McCain invented the Blackberry so there's clearly important debates now to be had.  Toodles!

Have You Ever Seen The (Frog) Rain?

We could talk about how Jack woke up at 2am this morning, wide awake and ready to party.  

We could talk about how Jack fell asleep this afternoon and took his first nap in about 4 years.

We could talk about how Jack woke up from his nap in order to vomit copiously.

We could talk about the lovely surprise baby shower the neighborhood gals threw for me this afternoon, wherein I was showered with kindness and presents galore.  Milo finally has some BRAND! NEW! STUFF!  Because, this being my third pregnancy, the sum total of what I had procured for him consisted of a couple of onesies from the local consignment shop.  No more! He now has a plethora of items that will be his and only his.  One of these items is a flannel set of bib, burp cloth, and satin-edged blanket lovingly hand-crafted by my friend's 85-year-old Grandmother - whom I have never met.  My own Gram passed away last Thanksgiving weekend, and my other Grandma just moved into a care center at the age of 90.  There aren't great-grandmas around to make blankies for Milo, and so he gets to be the lucky beneficiary of a woman with enough love to spare for a third little baby boy.  So, yeah, that's the point at which I nearly cried.

We could talk about how I finally broke down and got the Twilight series, and swore never to admit it... and how I got so wrapped up in the vampire world Stephanie Meyer created that I read the whole series in a week.  Twice.

But no.  Instead? Instead let's talk about how I finally screwed my courage (or stubbornness, depending on your perspective) to the sticking place and determined to shave my legs after six weeks pregnant neglect.  Let's talk about how I squeezed myself into a warm bath and determinedly wielded my pink Lady Bic until my wookie-like gams were finally smooth.  

Then we can talk about how I used my foot to open the drain and let the water out, then reached back to lift myself up and discovered several inches of standing water remaining in the tub behind me.  Because? Because my ginormous ass had made a watertight seal with the bath tub.  

We can talk about how this discovery was quickly followed by the realization that I was firmly wedged into the tub.  I was completely and undeniably stuck.  

And so I pondered my predicament for a few moments, then sighed and turned on the hot shower.  I sat like that, wedged into the tiny tub with the hot water running over me, for a few minutes before Big Daddy wandered into the bathroom after mowing the lawn.

"Are you okay?" he wondered.

"Yeah... not so much.  I'm stuck."

"Were you planning to call for help?"

"Definitely No."

"Can I help you get up?"

"I think you're going to have to."

On second thought... let's not talk about that either.  

Let's talk about you.  How are you doing?

Ground Control To Major Tom...

Where have I been, you say?
Well, nothing like interrupting the second week of Kindergarten for this:

"This" being a fractured left clavicle.  On the playground at school.

So there was that, which was obviously awesome.  We'll be spending one afternoon a week at the Orthopedic Surgeon for the next few weeks so the injury can be x-rayed and monitored.  The good news is it should heal up in about a month.  Or so they tell me.  

Then there's the contractions, which come frequently but without sufficient strength or regularity to actually count as "Labor".  They do, however, have enough strength and regularity to leave me exhausted.  Yesterday they also seemed to be indicative of labor, but after an hour or so on monitors at the hospital the nice nurse assured us that, no, this baby is not quite ready to make his appearance and all that uncomfortable squeezing? That's just baby warming my body up for the real thing. Which could be tomorrow! Or, you know, a month from now.  Because the baby wants Mama to lose her mind.

And then Toby, poor Toby, has suddenly forgot how to sleep through the night.  This morning found him climbing into our bed at 4am, and by 5 he and I were downstairs watching Oswald episodes off the DVR.

So pretty much that's where I've been.  Aren't you thrilled that you asked?

On Experience.

Good to know even Karl Rove agrees with me on the experience issue.

I'd like nothing better than to elect a woman (and, bonus, a mother!) to either of the high offices of this country. A qualified, reasoned, experienced woman. One who understands foreign policy, one with credentials of impact beyond "Raging Social Conservative", who doesn't claim to want to cut pork after securing over $20 million in federal earmarks for her town as mayor of Wasilla - a town of less than ten thousand people.

I look forward to the day I can vote for a woman - when the label "woman" is meaningless, because she will be simply the most qualified and well-suited person for the job. This is not that woman. To be fair, her social views would keep me from voting for the ticket regardless of her qualifications, but at least if she was suited for the position I could understand and support the desire for people I respect to see her in office. As it stands, I am at a loss.

And I think that's all I have to say on Sarah Palin.

Or "Words I Never Expected To Utter..."

Thank you, Bill O'Reilly.  

Thank you for the laugh. I really needed it today.

The Frump is Catching.

Redsy posted about feeling the frumps.  Apparently it's catching, or at least a symptom of Fall, because here is the view of your hostess this morning:

Pregnant, frumped to the gills, and also appearing to sport a lady combover? I swear that's just an illusion caused by flat hair.  

There's so much going on right now I could write about, that I should want to write about... I mean there's a hurricane run on the gulf coast, McCain picked a VP running mate, we just got through a bought of baby stomach bug (poor Toby. He's all better now, though!) and, hallo, Obama speech at the DNC!  

But the sad truth is that I am tired.  No, I am exhausted.  I am ready to have this baby and regain the ability to see my feet, let alone put on shoes without assistance.  I am ready to sleep on my stomach again, to stand up without the aid of a crane, and to go more than an hour without the necessity of stopping for a pee break. 

There's also a distinct possibility that I am slowly tipping down the other side of the peak and heading back into depressed territory.  I recognize it, I'm discussing it with my doctor, and I'm preparing to take appropriate measures to head off the meltdown.  

In the mean time, though, I'm trying to regroup.  I'm working on writing a few letters and touching base with a few friends before the baby gets here.  I'm trying to get the house in order and figure out the logistics of life between now and the holidays so that I don't get totally overwhelmed in the crush of it all.  We're trying to get a babysitter so the hubs and I can get a night out alone together before the baby gets here.  (We haven't had a real date since.. umm... hrm.  Yeah, it's been a while.)

So forgive me if I'm not on top of things for the next while.  Finding the Zen in our particular Zoo requires that immediate reality take precedence over reality of the virtual kind even more than usual. And if you wander away, just check back from time to time.  I promise I'll be back to form eventually.