At The Beginning... For At Least The Third Time

On the brink of the New Year, we find ourselves in Houston with M's best friend, Ron, and family: Sarah, Mikey (4) and Annaliese (9 months). This is at least the third New Year we have spent with Ron. The first being the one and only time I have ever seen M drink to excess. (That last bottle was homemade wine, after the bottle of whisky... use your imagination on that one!)

I sat with Sarah on the sidewalk with the kids while the men lit fireworks much to the delight and awe of Mikey and G. We've come a long way, I mentioned to her. She agreed.

You see, Ron and M went to college together back in the day. They were two geek boys who found solace in a friendship on a small tightknit campus in small town Texas. After that college, they went their separate ways. They remained in touch.

When I met M, dated casually for two months, then seriously for two months and then got engaged. (A story for another Time.) From Ron's perspective, M had a date and was suddenly engaged. He was suspicious and skeptical. It took time, but I eventually won him over. (I think that first drunken New Year's Eve was a step in the right direction.) Yet, the scene was replayed in reverse when Ron met Sarah. He told us about wanting to go out with Sarah and the next thing we knew, they were getting married. Turnabout is fair play. And our lives continue that path.

I think when M and Ron were in college, they assumed themselves lifelong nerdy bachelors, set for days of fishing, grilling and lots of beer consumption. Since Sarah and I hit it off instantly, that changed the entire game. Sarah and I both wanted families and a settled down life. And you know we women get what we want.

I got pregnant in 2001 with G and Sarah had Mikey in 2002. That year was a huge difference until recently. The boys now get along really well and play like champs.

The girls are only 10 weeks apart, and will be able to relate to each other much sooner than the boys. Annaliese is crawling, and NJ isn't. That development gap will close quickly as they progress in age.

In the olden says, the men would fish or golf and Sarah and I would shop. With four kids, we don't have as much luxury for adult play. (In the time AND money department!) Or, rather Sarah and I don't have much of that. We are generally responsible for Child Management and Entertainment Coordination. We do let the men still have their "boy time" (aka "Male Bonding") because it is important to them. This weekend, for example, they broke out the POWER TOOLS and got their testosterone fix.

(Sarah and I did manage to take the babies out and do a *little* shopping.)

Gotta start the New Year out right, after all.

Milestones

Christmas is over. After a frantic shop at the last minute, all immediate presents were wrapped and delivered.

For M, I shopped from the "boring wife" list and bought him much needed clothes.

For G, I shopped from the "cool mom" list and bought him a microscope and a rocket.

For NJ, I shopped from the "is this for me or you?" list and bought her three Groovy Girls. With G, the addiction was Beanie Babies, with NJ it's gonna be Groovy Girls.

I got a snazzy new purse, which turned out just fine. G was determined to get me a purse, but I am ultra-picky on what I will carry day to day. I admit, I was frightened by the prospect. M said he originally picked a bright red alligator purse with lots of bling, mananging to stear him towards something simple and black with buckles. My hubby actually pulled off a "cool husband" gift by enrolling me in a Photography class at the closest community college campus. It was very unexpected, and I can't wait to start!

Of course, as Murphy would have it, M dropped my precious new camera and busted the lens within 30 minutes of me opening my cool Photography lessons. Luckily we bought the "insurance" and just need to find the receipt...

Yesterday, M turned 40. I had wanted to have a big to-do, but that will have to occur after the holidays. Happy birthday old man!

NJ is now sitting up on her own. She's still not very good at it. She's like a drunk old man sitting there swaying and lilting. Blabbering nonsense and drooling. We really need to dig out the video camera and capture this for posterity. Perhaps I will make a first attempt at posting video and share in the fun. We'll see how the times goes.

We'll be heading to Houston to visiting the "extended family" (M's best friend and family) for the New Year. This will be the second New Year we've spent down there with them and it's starting to feel like a tradition. I'm sure I will have stories to report from that excursion. Mucho fun!

If I Did It

I was watching Miani Ink tonight and find myself still mesmerized by Kat Von D's work. She's so amazing. I thought I had finally decided what tattoo I would get if I ever got brave enough to get it. I would get something I could look at every day for the rest of my life. Something for my Mom. Something relfecting the child in me. The evolution of me into the person I am today. Something very distinctly me.

The Muppets.

Huh?

I was crushed the day Jim Henson died. If ever there was a person who lived a dream, it was Jim Henson. He created something. He had imagination. Lasting impact. A Universal language for children from all over the world. And all over Time.

My Mom said I would watch Sesame Street twice a day, soaking in every skit. I learned to read anything at the tender age of four watching that show. Thirty years later my son would be sucked into that program too.

Sesame Street and later, The Muppet Show (the adult Sesame Street) blurred my lines between reality and imagination and there I still live. I want to believe in talking frogs and neighborhoods that sing and dance together. I want to believe that someday we'll find it, the Rainbow Connection: the lovers, the dreamers and me. Magic. (Have you been half asleep? And have you heard voices? I've heard them calling my name...) And I didn't even have to look that up, folks!

So, I was thinking, a portraiture like Mount Rushmore only: Kermit, Miss Piggy, Animal and Gonzo. (I am still debating Fozzie, I mean he so grinds on my nerves. Love him anyway, don't you?) I want it black and grey and realistic. As realistic as Muppets GET anyhow.

Kermit is the most sensible one, with the most level head. He tries to make it all right. He plays the banjo and sings about his feelings. He sings about how it ain't easy, being us. As knowledgeable as he seems, we know he's still naive in many ways. He makes us want to believe in magic. And doggone it, we *like* him.

Miss Piggy is tough. I mean, it's hard to be a blonde pig. So she's tough. She's ready to march in and take over. Everything is about her. A pig has to stand her ground! She's prissy, over-bearing and WAY overdramatic. Still, she loves with abandon, and despite her short(rib)comings, we find ourselves mesmerized by her. She will be loved, oh yes. (And, we do! We worship the ground she walks on.)

Animal is just that. A character out of control. He's passionate, focused, obsessive. He wears chains for pleasure. He loves music. He's there when you need him.

Gonzo. Gonzo is one of my favorite Muppets. He's so out of place. Not sure who he is, or why he's here. He never quite fits in with the crowd. He has all these chick(en)s who flock to him. The chickens are the ones he can relate to the most. He's gentle, kind and awkwardly charming. Gonzo doesn't know who or why, but he's still willing to take the journey. Willing to reach out and help a friend in need. And in the end, helps himself in the process.

Yeah. That's all me. My insecurities and my loves all wrapped up in one of the greatest metaphors I know. The Muppets.

God bless you, Jim Henson. Thank you.

(Now where on earth do you put a tattoo like that????)

Because Santa Can...

This is G's Christmas list as it was dictated to me:

1. JET PACK (note to self: too much Mythbusters)
2. MONSTER TRUCK RIDE-ON CAR I SAW ON THE BIG LOTS COMMERCIAL THAT I CAN DRIVE (note to self: start hiding the car keys)
3. SUCKER GLOVES AND SHOES SO I CAN CLIMB BUILDINGS LIKE SPIDERMAN (note to self: ditto number 1)
4. A REAL LIGHTSABER (note to self: call George Lucas)
5. 14 SUCTION CUP GUNS (note to self: lower the glass deductible on the home insurance.)
6. A ROCKET POWERED BICYCLE (note to self: take training wheel off G's bike and then let's see if this is still on the list.)
7. REMOTE CONTROLLED LIGHTNING MCQUEEN WITH ROCKETS (note to self: purchase firecrackers and tape them on the remote controlled Lightning McQueen he already and call it good.)
8. RADIO-CONTROLLED AIRPLANE KIT (note to self: defer to RC building enthusiast husband.)
9. REMOTE CONTROL BOWLING BALL (note to self: I actually like this idea... Kay, there's the million dollar idea!)
10. POCKET FAN (note to self: We *do* live in Texas... aw, heck ditto #1)
11. POCKET HEATER (note to self: Uh, we live in Texas... ditto #1)
12. INVISIBILITY MACHINE (note to self: Don't we all at times...)

Me: "So, can we put something on the list Santa could actually get you, you know like from a store?"
G *blank stare*
G: "But Mom, he's SANTA, he could make me ANYTHING."
Me thinking... 'Dammit, he DOES listen to me'
Me thinking... 'Uh, son, I lied... Santa DOESN'T exist.'
Me thinking... 'Damn you, ADAM SAVAGE and JAMIE HYNEMAN!'
Me, reluctantly: "Well... I can't really argue with that..."

Uh, yeah, that works.

What I Learned (after) School Today

We bought a new lunchbag for G, since the funk of the old one was getting to the point where it might ruin the appetite of anyone sitting near him. I was tired of dumping full strength cleaner inside to try an eradicate the odor therein.

The new lunchbag has the one criteria that G listed as a "must have" which is a shoulder strap. He loves the shoulder strap. Most vinyl lunchbags don't have one, so I was delighted to find one at Fry's that did. (Perhaps it is a nerd thing?)

The new lunchbag is fairly nerdy, as lunchbags go. It has two sections, just in case you don't want to mix hot items and cold items. Each compartment has silver we-stole-it-from-the-Roswell-crash-site-materials that will keep those hot things hot and cold things cold.

I packed this super nerdy lunchbag with a bologna sandwich (?!?!? - his request), juicebox, pretzels on top and fruit snack, Dots, two Starburst and a TootsiePop.

As per usual, I checked the contents of the lunchbag at the end of the day. As per usual, the drink and sandwich were gone. (Yes, he's finally learned to THROW THINGS AWAY, at least lunch trash anyhow.) A partial bag of pretzels came home. And finally, as per usual, the sweets came home. (That's M's DNA at work, not mine.)

Me, shaking the empty sandwich container: "So, you ate all of your sandwich today?"
G looks at me and then glances away for a brief instant before looking back at me and giving me a non-committal: "Yeah."
Me, delightfully: "That's great!"
G, looks hesitant for a very fleeting moment and then broke out into a large smile.

Congratulations, kid, you have just learned to lie to your mother about what you ate for lunch.

Splendid.

God Bless the Child That's Got HIs Own

What would you do for family?

I have always thought of myself as the person who is there when the gauntlet is thrown down. Somebody needs me, I go. (Hence late night trips to CVS.)

But the latest unfolding drama of the extended family has my feathers ruffled. And I don't quite know what to do about it.

My niece quit school when she was 16, because she was tired of people telling her what to do. She wanted something else, and we just couldn't convince her that staying in school was it. So, the summer G was born she came to stay with me for a couple of weeks. We talked about her future and discussed strategies on getting what she wanted in life. At the time we talked about her desire to work with animals and a career as a Vet Tech. Being the older, cool Aunt that I am, I also had a frank discussion with her about sex. I felt that with the options in life before her, getting pregnant was the last thing she needed.

So I told her about how not to get pregnant. I told her things I had learned about fertility, about natural rhythm and such. I advised the use of condoms since she had chosen to be sexually active. But, there was a flaw in my thinking. In telling her exactly how to NOT get pregnant, I also inadvertantly told her *how* to get pregnant. I never thought she would use it to her advantage.

Within two years, she was pregnant. Single, no diploma, no income, no prospects for a responsible future.

The baby's father came with my SIL and family for Christmas that year. Seeing my niece's condition was heartbreaking. She wasn't taking care of herself, her teeth rotting and body rarely washed. The baby's father was in the same boat. When we learned she was pregnant, I didn't think she could take care of a little one. The family talked about options, but my niece would have none of it. She wanted the baby.

The baby came and my niece was pregnant again within two years. The family couldn't make ends meet, living in rundown housing. Literal shacks.

My niece and her boyfriend split up, leaving her with the kids. I was too heartbroken to involve myself. I would listen to reports on her situation from other family. This is her life. She chose it.

Things had started looking up a little for my niece. She had gottan an apartment and medication through a mental health facility for an obsessive compulsive disorder. Then my niece met a guy online in another state. They met a couple of weekends ago and decided to move in together.

So, she left her kids with their daddy's mother and moved to another state. MOVED TO ANOTHER STATE. LEFT THE KIDS. And she says she's coming back for the 16 month old girl after Christmas. She's leaving the three year old with his dad. (Who is homeless and jobless.) WTF???? She's coming back in a month for one of her kids? Does this sound right?

Is it time to get involved? How involved do I want to be? The mother part of me screams to get involved and see those kids are in a better place. But I can't save the world, and since I am not there, I don't know how bad the situation truly is. The family is taking a "wait and see" position. Wait and see when she comes back, if she comes back.

My soul just aches for these children. What should I do?!?!

Long Live the King

We Texans are currently fuh-reaking out because we are having snow and sleet. (With only a little accumulation!) We're huge weenies when it comes to winter. Schools are shutting down because it will probably ice over later. We don't know how to drive on ice, in fact, knowing how to drive period is negotiable. (Hence the PANIC!!!)

Yesterday the high was 80 degrees, and by bedtime it was in the high 40's. Only in Texas.

Last night, G went to bed in his room as per usual. I knew he wouldn't stay there. Call it mother's intuition. NJ wasn't interested in sleeping alone either. So, by 2 am there were four people bodies in our Queen sized Tempurpedic bed. M was taking up his usual space on his stomach, G next to him on his side, and NJ next to G. Me? I had a few inches to try to perform my balancing act. We have NJ's co-sleeper next to the bed, so I propped my pillow across the space like a bridge. My shoulders hung in the space between the bed and co-sleeper. Very uncomfortable.

I told M if we keep this up for the winter, a king Tempurpedic should be in our future. That *might* actually hold the four humans and four cats, don't you think?

Working Fool

I got up at 6 a.m. this morning. It wasn't the girlie wanting her morning num-nums... it was my alarm. I showered, shaved and PUT ON MAKE-UP. (close yer mouths)

Then I went into the office.

I actually got a hit off of Monster for a contract gig doin' one of the things I do best. Surfin' the 'Net. Granting, this surfing is for something very specific and business-like. Still, I love it. Perhaps this is my calling in life...

A Real Family Shares Cooties

Abs hosting our Thanksgiving meal at her place today and did it with flair. We went semi-traditional and went ham instead of turkey, but went with many of the usual accompaniments. Of course, there had to be pie. Cherry and pumpkin.

G wanted to try some with trepidation. Two small slices were cut and placed on a plate for his consumption.

G: "Where's my fork?"
Me, handing him my spare fork: "Here's one."
G, eyes me wearily: "Are your germs on this?"
Me, takes the fork back and looks at it, licks it and hands it back to G.
Me: "There are now."
The entire table: Mother-in-law, Sister-in-law, Hubby M and my Dad looked at me gaping mouths.
G is watching the shocked faces and not the licked fork.
Me: "It's fine. What's the problem? We swap germs when we kiss."
G: "But we didn't kiss. You just xerbited me."
Me: "Yes and there are now my germs all over your neck and probably crawling up into your ears."
G: "CAN WE NOT TALK ABOUT THIS?!?!?"

Giving Thanks

I've tried to write since my last entry, but the words just won't flow. But I need to write this, because things haven't been all that great lately in many aspects of my life. It is truly time to give some thanks. To reflect. To surrender.

Firstly, I am thankful to my mom for fighting cancer for twenty years. She passed away a year ago on the 15th of this month. Mom went to great lengths to say here in this life and reap much of what she sowed. She saw her daughters graduate school, get married, have grandchildren... so much more. I am thankful for her determination and sheer commitment to living. And, as strange as this may sound, I am thankful for that cancer. Cancer changed the course of my family's lives, much for better for all of us. My mom and I even discussed this in those last days.

Next, I am thankful for my husband. We've been through alot these past couple of years and he's never waivered in his love and devotion. And he's given me two great children, whom I am also thankful for. You three are my everything. I love you so much!

I am thankful for my other family. Those that I am related to: my Dad and my sister. Family is important to me. We've been able to help each other through this year in both subtle and overt ways. My aunts have been wonderful too, and it has been so nice to be more in touch. I am thankful for my sister's husband who has been there for her and her two beautiful daughters. I am thankful for my sister-in-law who is one of my soulmates in this life. I am lucky to have found such a true family with my in-laws.

I am thankful for my other other family. Those who I choose as family because, even though I love my friends, they aren't just friends. My life is what it is because those friends are there. There are friends who I have had since childhood, one of them halfway around the world. Friends who I have lived with, studied with, shared stories with and grew up with in many, many ways. Friends who I have met in work, and in play. Friends I have met once or twice but know because of this venue and friends I have never met. You're in my life, all of you friends, because I fell in love with who you are. I think the world of you.

Lastly, I am thankful for me. That's tough to remember, at times. But I am. I am thankful for this life and this experience and, even on the worst days, I wouldn't trade it. This life is a gift. I am blessed.

Because One Syllable Words are Boring

My lovely Kindergartener son pointed out to me today that he, his sister and all four cats have 3 syllable names. I hadn't really thought about it before, but apprarently my husband and I have a penchant for longer names. Perhaps we subconsciously find our one syllable names boring. I guess G can add that to his therapy list: "My mom expected me to do more in life BECAUSE SHE GAVE ME A THREE SYLLABLE NAME AND THAT'S ALOT FOR ANY CHILD TO HANDLE."

There is a one syllable nickname we could call him but:
1) We chose his name to name him after my favorite singer. If we called G by the nickname, it would go against the spirit of the chosing.
2) G doesn't like the short version of his name. He will only let a handful of people call him that. (Namely one of his best friends, The Other G, and family.) I understand this. I hated it when people added a "y" to my name when I was growing up. It wasn't my name! I have only let a handful of people get away with it too. My one syllable status is fine.

I find it interesting on the day G discovers syllables, he's decided to shorten NJ's name to the natural one syllable version. We all have different nicknames for her, and perhaps one day we'll iron that one out. (or she can start her own therapy list: "People never knew what to call me... it was so confusing!")

Well, whatever her name is, she's yelling...

I Need a Job

It's happened, the time has come. I thought I would make it through the holidays, but I will not.

If anyone can hook me up with some people, please let me know.

~L

A Tasty Dish of Rice

No, this isn't a recipe. Not for food anyhow. Call it a recipe for the soul.

I just found out that Damien Rice is releasing his next album entitled "9." WHEEE!!!! I love me some Damien, so much so I would consider naming my next child after him. (Don't laugh people, G is named after my FIRST favorite male singer on the planet.)

And no, NJ is NOT named after a favorite actress, or singer for that matter. I simple liked the name. If I named NJ after my favorite female singer, that would be Myra. Myra didn't work for me. Neither did the singers "other name," you know, the one she's known by?

Not being all that transparent am I? Back to the dish... Damien.

Damien.
Damien.
Damien.

If you haven't heard his music, I would say it is a crime against humanity. (Okay, so it's NOT, but still.) You can hustle your butt over to www.myspace.com/damienrice and hear three tracks from the new album. Now, most of you might listen to this and say "Um, ~L, that's *DEPRESSING*" and yes, Damien can be. Think of it more as deliciously, delicately haunting. His music isn't for a listener, it is for those who love to EXPERIENCE music. The songs are wholisitic. The lyrics a bit obscure, and the notes are pure genius. And Lisa Hannigan's voice... wow, just wow.

If you haven't heard "O," the previous album, it's amazing. It's a toss-up as to my favorite track. If forced to pick, it would probably be "Delicate." "Delicate" has been used as ambient music on several TV programs, including my beloved "Lost." His song, "The Blower's Daughter" was prominiently featured in the movie "Closer" and if you see the movie, you'll never forget the song. "Volcano" and "Cannonball" are also favorites of mine.

The first release off of "9" is titled "9 Crimes." Damien admits that the new album feels like an extension of the old, but that's perfectly okay with me. His music is like a cozy woobie on a chilly evening. Just wrap yourself up and enjoy.

Tricked or Treated?

So last night, we adults were cracked up by my non-imaginative son. He desperately wanted to be a Red Power Ranger, and luckily we found such a costume at Target. He was thrilled with his outfit that he has talked about for weeks.

During trick or treating, many of the adults asked the typical trick-or-treater question: "So, who are you?"
G's answer: G______ C______ Wood.
Treat-givers, trying to coax the imaginative answer out of my child: "Who are you?"
G: G_____ C_____ Wood!

*sighs*

He's so literal.

Happy Halloween!

I have been working on a post for the past several nights but haven't actually gotten it to a point of finality just quite yet. In the meantime, I hope all had a safe and happy Halloween.

Traditionally at this point in the year, I offer my talents and services for a free tarot card reading to people around me. Yes, you read it right: I read tarot cards. It's one of "those things" that when you know me well, you know that I occasionally do.

I didn't do any readings last year, not even my own. Since my Mom was in her final days in her battle with cancer, I just wasn't in that space.

The cards are getting dusted off though and coming out of the closet. So, if any of you who happen to come and visit here would like a reading, please let me know.

Given this offer, I must disclose a couple of things:
1) I do not claim to be a psychic or fortell the future. Reading tarot cards is a reflective, meditative art for me. It will often help me organize my thoughts around an issue in my life and provides a point of intropection. I see it as a tool, not as an answer.
2) In spite of the above statements, I do have certain traditions (perhaps superstitions) that I uphold in the way I conduct a reading. I follow the traditions of my teacher and respect them.

Cards are on the table (I am SO pfunny!) and all you have to do is ask. Just for a taste here is a fun way to "forsee" what my readings are like. (Yes, terrible of me I know.) BTW, the cards you will see on that site are the actual style of cards I use. Very non-traditional and cool, eh?

I (d)Rule!

My muse has turned my attentions away from blogging to cooking as of late. Since NJ has taken to napping from ~5-7 in the evenings, I have a choice: pay some attention to G and get dinner on the table or blog. Needless to say, my husband sure does appreciate the dinner. This means that the lack of blogging leaves me a little starved for expression and the bit of therapy and peace of mind this venture provides.

For the few people who keeps tabs on me: I made a killer Walnut Chicken tonight. You get Walnut Chicken instead of a long winded diatribe about ugly shoes that has been swimming around my head for ages and needs to be written one of these days. I have say, in my own humble way: MY WALNUT CHICKEN ROCKED ASS! No recipe, just me smelling every jar of herbs in my cabinet to find the "right" ingredients.

Before there was Walnut Chicken, there were the RIBS that Spanks recommended to me in the comments section. Spanks.... tasty stuff, Spanks! I usually don't est extremely fatty meat, but it was YUMMY. Thanks April for that recipe!

Kay was on our local news. She saw a wrong and set about making it as right as humanly possible. Brave woman. Great job on the snippet. It's still on TiVo if needed. Kay, you're my hero!

My Dad's new German Doberman came care of Lufthansa Cargo. I picked up papers, took them to Homeland Security for approval. Now my dad has one new companion. He's an adorable 10 week old pup. We call him Itchy, although Dad wants something more dignified. Baron. We'll see who will train who here. Pup or Dad? Who do you think will win?

NJ has grown a tooth. A TOOTH! At four months. She's been drooling and munching on us since birth. I started her on some Squash, which went over okay. Then I tried Banana, which she slurped up with abandon. At the moment, she's yelling for her nightly milk, so away I must.

I promise more things of interest soon...
~L

It's Friday...

The Blogger's Copout

It's more about me time! Since I haven't put two coherent thoughts together in the week (at least not in writing) here is a little ditty to tide you three faithful readers out there. I will at least try to make it linkolicious:

1. What is your occupation? Wife, Mother, Executive Director of Great Ideas, Cook, Maid, Lover, Senior Transportation Coordinator, Blogger, Managing Partner of Naval Gazing, Expert Napper and Diaper Change Administrator. (Man, am I tired!)

2. What color are your socks right now? Birkenstock. When it gets cold, it will be any sock and Birkenstock.

3. What are you listening to right now? The hum of my pushed-to-the-edge hard drive and baby cries.

4. What was the last thing that you ate? Tonight's "I didn't work from a recipe"= Black Bean and Grilled Chicken Quesadillas.

5. Can you drive a stick shift? *sniffs* This makes me miss my 1969 Volkswagen Bug. His name was Herbie...

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Key Lime

7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My dad. His nightly call.

8. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Of course. She'd be my second call if stuck in a locked pharmacy. (*smooches*)

9. How old are you today? 36 years, 5 months and 1 day.

10. Favorite drink? Define drink. Any liquid beverage? Vanilla Coke (RIP), unless I am currently swearing it off, then my beloved Sweet Tea. Of an alcoholic nature? Top-Shelf Margarita

11. What is your favorite sport to watch? Figure skating, hockey and baseball.

12. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes. My favorite flavor was brunette with primary red and blonde highlights.

13. Pets? Four cats: Sebastian, Bina, Genevieve and Phineas Icklebutt.

14. Favorite food? Murgh tikka mahkani (Chicken in Butter Tomato Sauce) with Basmati Rice, Saag Paneer (Spinach with Cheese) and Poori (Fry Bread)

15. What was the last movie you watched? In the theater: The Devil Wears Prada, at home: Flightplan

16. What was the last book you read? The Devil Wears Prada, although I just started The Time Traveler's Wife

17. What do you do to vent anger? If I am cleaning, someone has really, really pissed me off. Otherwise I yell in the moment (and/or curse like a sailor) and then talk to someone to finish getting it out of my system.

18. What was your favorite toy as a child? Dolls. I have a collection of Madame Alexander dolls.

19. What is your favorite fall or spring? We don't have those in Texas.

20. Hugs or kisses? Depends on the person and situation. I think over time I have becomes more of the kissing kind.

21. Cherries or blueberries? Egad. Uh, only cherry FLAVORED things and only blueberries in muffins. Can we discuss other fruits here?

22. Do you want your friends to email you back? Usually.

23. Who is most likely to respond? Dunno, depends on whether my three readers feel like playing along.

24. Who is least likely to respond? Dunno, depends on whether my three readers feel like playing along.

25. Living arrangements? With hubby, two kids, and four cats in our mortgaged house.

26. When was the last time you cried? Saturday morning at 6 a.m. from a monster migraine.

28. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending this to? I'm going public, not sending.

29. What did you do last night? Watched Desperate Housewives, made blueberry muffins and slept a little.

30. Favorite smells? Baked goods, just about done in the oven.

31. What inspires you? Laughter, Generosity, Kindness, Friendship, Love, Creative Souls, Gandhi, cooking shows, a good book, the occasional Oprah show.

32. What are you afraid of? Being abandoned, not being good enough, finality and death

33. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Cheeseburger, or hamburger with sauteed mushrooms

34. Favorite dog breed? Irish Wolfhounds

35. Number of keys on your key ring? I separated my key ring into small sets, therefore, if I lock the keys in my car, I still have housekeys.

36. How many years at your current job? Wife=12, Mother=5+, Executive Director of Great Ideas=since birth, Cook=since my first Easy Bake Oven, Maid=(that's still questionable), Lover=(no comment), Senior Transportation Coordinator=20 years, Blogger=writer since I was 8 but blogging the past 2 years, Managing Partner of Naval Gazing=always, Expert Napper=36 years and Diaper Change Administrator=5+ years experience.

37. Favorite day of the week? I have always been partial to Wednesday

38. How many states have you lived in? 3 U.S. states plus various states of mind. Who knows how many states in the karmic chain...

39. Favorite holidays? Halloween and Valentines Day

40. Ever driven a Motorcycle or heavy machinery? Mini-bike

If you are reading this, Abbyliscious, Chichimama and Lynsalyns can respond in kind or... pick your top five questions and add as comments. And that's an open invitation to all!

Ending the Week With a Bang

My dad and I talk typically talk at least once a day. Often more. He will either call after work or before bed because it's still hard for him to come home to that big empty house. As of late, his favorite question for the past couple of weeks has been "So, what good news do you have for me today?"

Good news? Since "I got out of bed this morning" and "I shined my sink" don't *really* feel like good news, I haven't quite known what to say. I have to say, though, that the week in review is EVENTFUL.

Monday
Okay, I am going to have to out Janine regarding the 911 phone calls alluded to in the previous post. This incident is one of the most hilarious and zany moments of my entire life. I am so glad my friends will go to such lengths to make me laugh.

10:13 pm
Phone rings
Me: "Hello?"
Janine, over lots of noise: "~L! I just got locked in the [nationally known] pharmacy. Everyone is gone and I can't get a hold of my husband. What do I do?"
Me: "Uh, you're where?"
Janine, over lots of noise which is suspiciously sounding like an alarm: "Well, I went up to the [nationally known] pharmacy to pick up a few things. When I turned around everyone was gone and the doors are locked. I went and banged on the manager's door and set off the store alarm. I was thinking about going out the fire exit, but it says I need a code... WHAT DO I DO?"

We discussed whether or not to call 911 briefly and then I told her I would head out the door to the pharmacy just up the street. I figured the manager's name and possibly, hopefully, an emergency number for said manager would be posted on the building. As I got into the car and screeched out of the driveway, I decided I ought to call 911 and enlist the help of professionals. (She also decided to call them as I was en route, hence the dueling "locked inside the local pharmacy" distress calls.)

As I arrived at the pharmacy, I encountered the gentleman for the security company in the parking lot. I explained the situation to him. Looking a little relieved that she wasn't heisting Valium and Snickers bars while packing heat, he immediately got on the radio and interacted with the fire department when they arrived. I called Janine on the other side of the glass and told them they were trying to get in touch with store management, and to hang in there. Luckily, the shift supervisor lived near the store and Janine was soon sprung from pharmacy entrapment.

Thursday
10:15 pm
I use the bathroom on my way to bed, you know, the typical night routine. I should have seen this coming because the water in the toilet wasn't the usual level. I should have seen this coming because my dear five year old son spent AN HOUR on the potty earlier that day. Still... I was tired and dismissed that little voice that said "This isn't right."

As I flushed, the water kept rising...

"CRAP!" (no pun intended at the time)

M comes running in the room and I am frantically clearing the toilet chamber lid. We get the lid off, but to no avail... water comes pouring over the side of the bowl. Luckily, that water was not of super icky proportions (no solids). M got the water shut off and promptly began assessing the situation. No plunger, the other drains in the house seemed to drain just fine... it must be something in the toilet.

M: "Uh, how many [kid DIY empowering] 'flushable' wipes were in the box?"
Me: "It was a fairly new pack, why?"
M: "It's empty."
Me: "Crap."
*M and I exchange knowing looks*
Me: "So, please inform your son in the morning that if he wouldn't sit on the potty for an hour and let the crap bake dry on his ass, he wouldn't feel he has to use 100 flushable wipes."
M smirks: "Oh, I will let him know."

One remolded and ready-for-fishing-expedition coat hanger, a gallon of Liquid Plumber and one late-night 24-hour Walmart plunger later, our toilet was back in working form.

Friday
I figured Janine could use a girl's lunch, so I give Kay and Janine a call. Janine's daughter Chloe had an early release day from school. I offered to pick up Chloe from school and bring her along. It was date.

I picked Chloe up from school at noon and headed across town to our restaurant destination. About 3 miles away from Chloe's school, Chloe notices that the principal of her school is driving in the car next to us.

Chloe: "Look ~L! There's Mr. Pope, the Principal of my school!"
Me: "That's cool!" I glance over to the red convertible.
Chloe: "Isn't that a pretty car?" It is a pretty car. A nice shiny fairly new mid-life-crisis kind of car.
Chloe: "Pull up next to him!"
Me: "There's a red light up ahead, you can wave at him there."

We pull up to the light. Chloe looks over and waves, to no avail. The light turns green and both cars pull into the intersection. In a split second I hear a horn and see, out of the corner of my eye, the red convertible break hard and a blue car land Ka-Thud on the side of my car. Thanks to that shiny red car, the blue car only hit my truck hard enough to leave smears of paint across both passenger doors. Shaken, I pulled across the intersection and pull over, the red car did the same. The blue car? When the light turned green, the blue car left.

WTF?!?!?!?!

Chloe, NJ and I lucked out. It could have been much, much worse. I didn't call the cops then, but I should have. I tried to file a report later that day, but the cops wouldn't take it, despite that fact I had TWO eyewitnesses and the blue car's license plate. (A gentleman who works for the city got the plate and gave me his name.)

Needless to say, it's been quite a week, let's hope next week isn't so eventful.

Miscellaneous Meanderings

I've got too many paths to blog about to focus on any one thing. So here's the hodgepodge. Try and keep up, will you?

Harry Potter.
I am checking out the photos from The Order of the Phoenix. The Phelps twins *are* looking a bit old for their roles, but I won't say the same for the rest of the crew. They seem very "age appropriate" to me. Gee. Been so long since I have my head in Harry's world. I miss Harry. I miss his magical ability to subside my kidney pain long enough to let the damn thing pass. Had I been reading any other book, I would have been in more pain and misery. I look forward to the movie. And OF COURSE the next book. *sniff* That LAST book. I hope the end befits the entire ride.

Applications
I have submitted two job applications with more on the horizon. It doesn't answer the "am I going back to work?" inquiry. It might. There are smarter ways to do this than to type in the computer endlessly. Am I going to do more? Unknown.

Birthdays
We have birthdays coming up, kids and adults. I am booked on Oct. 15 and prolly 14 too. We HAVE to celebrate Kay's "18th birthday" in a special way this year. Le Bare Club? Something. Then Chloe in her wonder mini woman glory. At the end of the month I have to watch for those Halloweeners.

Dinner
I hate recipes. (not really) I hate following recipes when I see better ways of doing things. So, I largely cook off the cuff. Lastest dishes: Top Shelf Chicken one night and Curry Burgers another night. Both yummy. You just never know with me.

Rescue Services
God bless my girlfriend for creating such an exciting night on Monday. Playing damsel in disress is so underrated these days. Two 911 calls. At least there was a chaotic rescue. God bless cell phones, eh Janine?

So tired. Time to wobble off...

NewsFlash!

NJ rolled over today. Tummy to back. YEEHAW! Way to celebrate 3 months of life, sweetie!

Funkified

It isn't just my mood lately. The funk has also been in G's lunchbag.

I have been sending G to Kindergarten with a packed lunch almost every day. I figured since he's such a picky eater for me, he'd be just as picky for the public lunch system. I have endeavoured to be creative and send something different each day of the week. The packed lunch has become a secret language between mother and son. He never wants to know beforehand what I have packed. He likes the surprise of it. And I like to surprise him too.

Apparently, he likes to surprise me daily too, with the day's end sludge in the bottom of the lunchbag I packed. That boy won't throw away his trash to save his life. I asked him several times to please throw his trash away at the end of lunch period in the cafeteria. Last week, I asked his teacher to intervene and please oversee the trash departure. The bag came home clean until today.

Contents:
One mostly empty juice box
straw out of said juice box
yogurt sludge
empty yogurt container with peeled back lid
crushed Ritz crackers
crumbles of cheddar cheese
tray in which the Ritz crackers and cheese came in
a red apple with exactly two bites taken out
roll of sweettarts, whole but now sticky
spoon
wadded napkin

Ew.

Is this a boy thing? Pre-occupied five year-old thing? Or is this "Mom, I love you and love it when you take care of me" thing? Yeah, that last one must be it. *eye roll*

The Chase

Let's waste time
chasing cars
around our heads

I need your grace
to remind me
to find my own
~Snow Patrol, Chasing Cars

As a creative soul and writer, I spend alot of time exploring my navel in search of the Truth and the Meaning of Life. Then I attempt to write about those pieces of navel lint. I hope these ruminations actually reflect a small portion of what I discover inside, alas, words often fail to capture the enormity of the intended communication. Sometimes I completely fail in my attempt. Sometimes I am not sure where I stand in the communication. This brings me to yesterday's post. I felt like I should say more, even though perhaps I don't need to.

Depression and I are longtime "frenemies." I grew up with the negative things I said about depression, but I don't believe them. Not truly. I still fight with those conversations on occasion, because just as it takes time to learn ways of seeing life, it also takes time to unlearn those ways.

I was first diagnosed with and treated for depression 18 years ago. If I played My Own Personal Freud, I would suspect it started much earlier. It probably began as I came to realize that I would never achieve true perfection. True perfection was the only way to convince myself and others in my life that I was good enough. Perfection is still the Dragon I chase.

My Own Personal Freud: But you realize that dragons don't exist. Don't you?
Me: Yes, I know. Dragons are a figment of our imagination. Dragons only exist in stories.
My Own Personal Freud: Yes, Dragons aren't real...yet, you continue to chase. Do you suspect it is the thrill of the chase?
Me: Isn't my hour up yet?

Stuck in a Moment

I battle depression.

There, I have said it. Out loud. In public.

It's something about me that most people who have known me a long time understand about me. I rarely admit it though. I pretend that things are okay with me most of the time. This is how I learned to operate: "everything is okay" at face value. If you admit how you truly feel then you're shameful. You've lost graces in other people's eyes. You let them down. You've lost credit. You're less of a person if you can't handle yourself. Depression is mental illness. Mental Illness makes people uncomfortable. They don't know how to be around you. You are fucked up. Totally. How could anyone want someone like this?

But depressed is where I have been for over a year now. As I have written, my mother's decline from cancer and eventual death was emotionally devestating to me. A mother loves with such power and devotion. Suddenly one of my biggest champions in my life was gone. One of my best friends, my soul mates, gone. Needless to say, I've been a little lost.

My experience last week has renewed me in many unforeseen ways. I think about the woman who died, a woman my age. A mother with children, her elder child the same age as mine. This situation spikes my fears of losing G. In my bouts of depression, he is my light. He is my levity. My husband and my friends provide a similar levity. (When I let them.)

But this past week, I feel more awake. I feel more in touch. I FEEL.

I don't feel quite so shut down. Not willing to hide. I hope this feeling lasts.

Bearer

There's that moment which comes in everyone's life where things slow down. Things become surreal. Irrational. When the three men wearing sheriff's hats and bright yellow rain slickers labeled "POLICE" knocked solidly on our door yesterday, my world shifted.

I was sitting in our living room with my shirt opened nursing NJ when they arrived. I made M answer the door. In my head I was running through anything that would bring the police to my house: Is there a warrant for my arrest I don't know about? Are they here to take something away? Are they soliciting for the police force?

"How well do you know your neighbors?"

I craned my head around, trying to shield my naked chest. Neighbors? Something happened? Is someone dealing drugs? Did someone break in?

M looked at the officer and stammered that yes, we know them. We talk to them when gardening, chat here and there. Did we know them really well? No, we didn't spend alot of time with them...

"There's been an accident."

I button my shirt as I head for the door.

"We were wondering if you knew them well enough to come over and sit with them for awhile. There was a car accident and their daughter was killed and her two little girls..."

I stood in disbelief a moment. The one with the little girl about G's age? Yes, the officer confirmed that. The daughter was about my age, with two kids who were not far from the ages of my own. I immediately agreed to accompany the officers. They said they were going to go deliver the news and that one would come for me momentarily.

M and I closed the door and looked at each other. I decided to finish feeding NJ before I went in search of shoes. The officers came back within a few minutes.

"They aren't home. It is possible they have already gotten the news. Thank you for agreeing to come with us. We've left some contact information for them."

And with that, they left.

Within the hour I noticed our neighbor's truck pulling into the driveway, the dark silhouette of two passengers inside. I wandered out onto the porch and saw the truck pull out again sans one passenger. I went back inside and told M that the neighbors had come home but the husband had left again.

M thought we should wait before approaching them. I agreed. The longer I sat on the couch, the more uneasy I got. The husband wouldn't have left his wife had he known. I grabbed my shoes. Our neighbors are like us, they rarely use their front door. If the officers left something on the front door, they weren't likely to see it that evening. I announced I would walk over and see if there was still something on the door.

As I walked by the neighbor's house, I could see her sitting on the couch, casually watching television. I approached the front of their house and checked the door. Nothing obvious. My heart hammered in my chest. I went up to the door and knocked. The porch light switched on and my neighbor peeked out the window and waved to me.

"Hi L! Come in!" she quipped. My heart sank, I was sure my legs would give. I walked in despite my fears.

I told her that the police had come to the house searching for she and her husband. I relayed that there had been an accident involving one of their daughters. She panicked a moment and asked if I knew which one. I couldn't say, it wasn't my place to tell her. I didn't want to misinform her, I had such limited information. Her husband pulled back in the driveway as she pulled out her address book. He walked in and I repeated the information.

They began calling. First daughter in town, left a message. Second daughter in town, spoke with briefly. Between calls, the neighbor talked about how they had just gotten back into town from one of the daughter's houses for the weekend. That the daughter followed them in her car back into town to attend a funeral of a friend. With her two girls. The daughter had been not far behind them. They were driving a big SUV. The neighbors continued calling the police department who informed them that the highway had been shut down to a major accident and they needed to take down our neighbor's information and get back to them.

The next call... the next call was to the husband of the third daughter. I held my breath and prayed this was a mistake. I prayed with all my heart that this couldn't be happening to them. But that call confirmed all our greatest fears. Their daughter and granddaughters had been killed in a car accident.

I left them in shock, preparing to go to the hospital. I am in shock too. When my mother passed away, I expected it. We had preparation. Regardless of the cancer, I expected that she pass away first before my sister and I. I think that is everyone's expectation, parents first... children later. I can't imagine how I would feel if G or NJ died before I left the planet myself.

My thoughts and prayers are with my neighbors.

The Many Loves

Okay, okay. So the REAL question lurking behind the previous post is this: What do I want to do with my life? aka "What do I want to be when I grow up?" There are many avenues I have considered in my life, but none that have absolutely captivated me.

Here are/were some of the contenders, then perhaps you will see my conundrum:
* Film Director (my original college major)
* Actress
* Teacher (11th grade honours, I have my English degree. You don't step into an honours program though and I wanted to have enough patience in life to have my own kids)
* Lawyer
* Gemologist
* Interior Designer
* Interpreter for the FBI
* Profiler for the FBI
* Anything for the FBI
* Forensic Crime Scene Investigator/Analyst
* Law Researcher (something I have done)
* Information Broker/Researcher (I can find anything or anyone you need)
* Chef
* Hair Dresser
* Realtor
* Advertising Executive (took one college class, got frustrated)
* Trade Show Manager
* Gift Basket Entrepreneur
* Writer/Author/Poet
* Wife (I am one!)
* Mother (something I achieved, twice!)
* Internet guru
* Programmer
* Website designer/programmer
* Jockey
* Personal Assistant to someone important
* Entrepreneur who flips houses
* PowerPoint presentation designer (something I have done)
* Yoga Instructor
* "White hat" hacker
* Spa Owner
* Personal Shopper/Stylist
* Professional Singing Artist/Musician (I don't have the talent, sadly)
* eBay Entrepreneur
* Law Librarian
* Wedding Coordinator
* Health Informatics Librarian
* Motivational Speaker
* Therapist/Psychologist
* Personal Trainer/Physical Therapist
* Furniture Refinisher
* Location Scout (for film)
* Bread-and-Breakfast Owner/Manager
* Life Coach
* Professional Student
* Event Planner
* TV Script Writer
* Buyer for department stores
* Restaurant owner
* Inventor/innovator
* Photographer
* Semi-celeb blogger
* Mythbuster
* Forensic Accountant

I am sure the list could go on. Some of these take money, which I don't have and have no clue how to find (venture capital). Some of these take training I don't have, which could be easily remedied, if I would just choose it. Some of these take connections I don't have, which is why I shied away from the film industry.

So what now? I still don't know, but I am still in the inquiry.

Perhaps those varied interests WOULD make for an excellent blog contributor as Kay and Janine and I have discussed as of late. Starting something like the type of blog we are discussing is scary... EXCITING but SCARY. I am so afraid of failure, of letting people down. Yet, it could be a success. A HUGE success. And it would give me what I want. I could research, write and make money. I could enrich lives and do something of value.

All I have to do is make a choice. Why does it seem so hard?!?!?

Torn

I had to admit it, but we're in a bit of a financial bind. M makes enough money to pay most of the bills, but alas my screwup of last year's taxes has left us owing the government a substantial amount of money. Money we don't have lying around so we can't just pay them off and be done with the entire mess. Luckily the IRS agreed to our payment plan. Even without the cost of G's school, there just isn't the money in the budget to give to them AND still money for entertainment expenses, house expenses beyond bills, cash, other sundries. We're down to basics: food, gas and utilities.

The big question is whether to go get a job so we have breathing room, or do we just cut back on the little luxuries of our lives? I could just temp, using my skills on presentation development and research so that I am not locked into a 5 day a week job. I am concerned though about care for NJ. I can't imagine I could find a place who would accept an infant on the fly. If they did, would they meet my critical standards?!?!? Or, do I just succumb to a 9-5 job as an assistant or such where minimal brain power and minimal devotion is required. Just a good job done during my 8 hours of contribution. OR do I risk developing my own work. I could blog and turn it into an income earner. I could start an eBay business of Yard sale finds cleaned up and given a little TLC. So many choices!

I guess I should pray/meditate about this, put the energy out there and see what comes back to me. I trust that the "right thing" will.

Kicking It Up A Notch

I enrolled G into a self-defense/martial arts class today. He went to the dojo and received his uniform and tried out day #1 of class.

It took forever to get to the "try it out" part. The teacher offered to have G start class or just watch. I repeated the question to G as I squatted down to his level so we could look eye to eye. But after asking, his eyes just darted around the room and "I don't know" was all he could manage to say. I said "It's just a decision G, not right or wrong, just a decision." He just couldn't decide. It was Monday, after school and after apparently not enough sleep.

The teacher suggested we get G changed into his new cool uniform and have him join the class. We raced over to the changing area and swapped the school uniform for the martial arts uniform.

G anxiously joined the class, but with a very huge grin on his face. His shyness came out full force, but his excitement lead him on. He watched and tried and at the end of the class, "earned" his white belt.

After class, G came rushing up to me. "When can I get a GOLD belt?" he asked breathlessly. "With practice" I told him. I wanted to tell him he had to be patient, to take things one step at a time (baby steps) and that someday he could be really good at this. Instead I simply hugged him. He'll learn. He'll learn.

Who Would You Do?

Since I haven't written in over week, let's start things off with a "hot" topic. (Or is it one that has been beaten to the ground in blogland?)

SEX.

That's right... SEX. It's as good a topic as any. Given my past week, I could use a little fastasy diversion before I delve into topics such as kindergarten, poverty and sleep deprevation.

Let's assume that you would (probably) never get the opportunity to meet these people, or perhaps, if you did, you wouldn't be jumping in the sack. But, in fantasyland... who would be your five top "do's" in the celeb/semi-celeb world? (I have included men and women in my list... because I think women appreciate that attractiveness of other women. I think if I asked my husband to include men he'd look at me blankly.)

Men
1. Chris Nunez - Miami Ink semi-celeb... uh, yum.
2. Joaquin Phoenix
3. Matthew McConaughey
4. Johnny Depp
5. Wentworth Miller

Women
1. Kari Byron - Mythbusters semi-celeb, she's just so damn cute!
2. Angelina Jolie
3. Aishwarya Rai
4. Salma Hayek
5. Halle Barry

Anyone else care to share?

Shocking Confessional: I Love Crap TV

I talked with one of my closest friends yesterday to check in and see how things were. He lives in another state, which as of yesterday's conversation is a good thing. If he were closer, he might be sporting a fresh bruise on his left shin.

I called out of concern. It's a long story, but he and I have this weird connection and when I have dreams of him, I call. It usually means something is up. I dreamed of him, but more importantly I dreamed of his pregnant wife. I don't dream of his wife. Ever. So, I thought it had to be significant.

Not.

Instead I got shit about how I love Grey's Anatomy.

Seriously? Seriously.

According to him I must be under some extreme amount of stress or suffering post partum depression to succumb to a love of something so "cliched." I just think he's getting old and out of touch with current culture. (jab,jab)

Okay, fine, I'll admit it: I LIKE CRAP TV. I *like* Grey's Anatomy and Lost. I like House and Prison Break. Heck, give me some Desperate Housewives to boot. Oh, and while we're at it: throw in some American Idol, Hell's Kitchen, Miami Ink and OMG Rockstar Supernova. Forget the fact I will watch a Law & Order episode over and over, especially if it's SVU, but not CI, cause Vincent D'Onofrio is a freak. Of course, then there's Mythbusters, which isn't Crap TV, but I will mention it anyway.

For The Record: TV is merely one of my escapes. I do still read. And occasionally return my movies to Netflix so I can watch another. And The Sure Thing is still a part of my own personal library. And I introduced you to Secretary.

At least my love for Crap TV doesn't include Doc or 7th Heaven. I mean, please, give me *some* credit.

An Earful

Last night was the first night that NJ slept in the co-sleeper next to the bed. I wasn't ready to see her go, I like her warm little body snuggled next to mine. Still, M insisted that it was time. He's been missing the nightly pre-sleep cuddle. It's like a ritual with us, I lay my head on his shoulder and we snuggle in together. Admittedly I missed the snuggle time too, but I firmly believe that the reason NJ has slept through the night since day one is because she sleeps between us. Babies model what they see: big people sleep, I sleep. Besides, *if* she wakes, then I just stick The Boob in her mouth and doze off again. It's good for both of us. Or was.

The unfortunate outcome of NJ sleeping with us is that I don't move during the night. I have to lay still. I don't lay still when I sleep. I have to move. It's the fibromyalgia, if I stay in the same position for a time, my muscles rebel. They will lock themselves up and then I pay with pain the next day. And boy, have I been paying.

The past two weeks have been murder on my hips and legs. I feel like an old lady, popping and creaking while hobbling down the hall. We spent this past weekend in Houston with family friends and their two story house. Thank God we don't have a two story house. It was much more apparent during our visit what an invalid I have become. I figure when I see the neurologist next week, he will direct me back to physical therapy. Woo woo!

On another note, NJ got her tape and glue removed from her left ear today. When NJ was born, she had a "constricted ear." It wasn't prominent but M and I felt that if we could do something about it now, especially something non-surgical, we would. We found a local craniofacial surgeon who performs ear molds which involves tape, superglue and clay to retrain the cartilage in the ear to grow properly. The procedure should be performed in the first week of life. NJ got her ears done on day 8 after birth. She wore the tape, etc. for six weeks total with a dressing change at two week intervals. As I said, today was the big reveal and her ear looks great! I am so glad we tried this route and *hope* we don't have any future surgery!

Uniformity

I registered G for kindergarten in pubilc school today. I have mixed feelings about this. At the heart, I believe we should provide outstanding education to everyone and therefore, should support our public schools. Yet... so many school districts are weak and neglected. We don't pay our teachers enough and we expect so much. How can they foster each child's intelligence when the classes are packed with 20+ kids? How can they provide extra attention to the children who need more than the average curriculum?

In our area, private school is often the answer for those who can. And, I hate to say, if I could, I would. We just can't right now. So we're trying public school out for a year.

I am trying to be determined not to hate it. Unfortunately even the simplest aspects of this process annoy me to no end. My initial beef: uniforms.

Now, don't get me wrong. I see both sides of the arguement here. The schools say it's a safety issue. The kids can't wear gang colors (oh, that's refreshing.) Uniforms make school an even playing field. The kids dress the same, LOOK the same and will therefore be treated the same. They won't make fun of each other in this brand-driven society. I agree with all this in prinicple. Trust me, I do. I was the kid who was made fun of for what I wore. I didn't wear the brand jeans. (4th grade) It was a devestating blow to my self-esteem. And, if I played Freud to myself, it probably accounts for much of who I am today.

So, yes, taking the "us and them" factor out of the kids' wardrobes is probably a good thing.

But

I am loathing having to purchase all navy bottoms and white shirts. How mundane. Uncreative. Boring. Uninspiring. Stupid.

I don't want my kid to be on an even playing field. I want G to be G. I want him to be recognized for who he is. I want him to express himself. If he wants to wear green, dammit, I want him to wear green! I don't want him to look like, feel like everyone else. (it's not easy being green.) This isn't about labels, it's about expression, creativity.

I was at least a little relieved (as was G) to learn at registration that the kids can wear any kind of athletic shoe they want to as long as it's not obscene. (ever seen an obscene shoe?) I had bought G a pair of all black athletic shoes thinking if they were anal about the clothing, surely shoes would be limited. Instead we took them back and bought cool new Sketchers. G was thrilled to get them. So was I... finally a method of expression! And this got me thinking. Perhaps I will get him a whole wardrobe of cool shoes. (I'm totally thinking like a woman here, and I am sure he could care less.) In fact, not just cool shoes... OUTRAGEOUS shoes. Shoes that are guaranteed to be individualistic and noticable.

Shoes like this or this or this or perhaps even this .

You know, *something* that makes a statement. (Taste not withstanding.) :-P

Power to the people! Down with the average tennis shoe! Freedom of shoe expression!

The Big O

Not Overstock.com, although I would love to go crazy shopping.

Not orgasm, although I am now cleared for sex after my six-week post-natal appointment with the Ob-Gyn.

No, think bigger.

OVERWHELM. That's where I am. Smack dab in that big O. O-VER-WHELMED.

How did my mother do this? How did any stereotypical housewife in the 50's excude such perfection in their lives? (Did they?) (V.A.L.I.U.M. Where's mine?) (I'll even wear the pearls, although the high-heeled shoes are OUT.) How does any working woman (with more than one child) keep it together?

I have a job. Her name is NJ. She's a high maintenance gal. Hold me, Mama, I need you near. Unfortunately G is largely this way too. "Look at me, Mom." "Watch this Mom." Forget laundry. Forget dishes. Forget cooking. Can I please shower now? Brush my teeth? Is 9 a.m. too early for a margarita?

It's a Catch-22. I need to schedule "me" time. Janine and I have been walking some and scheduled to walk tonight. It was her turn to cancel because I think she's visitng O-zone too. And I was a little relieved that she canceled because now I have time to load the dishwasher. And vote for Rockstar Supernova. And vent in my blog. And perhaps sleep a little before I have to whip out The Boob again.

Really, I wouldn't do any of this differently. Just sometimes, like now, I would like to slow down this runaway train. I guess Chef said it best this week: "What did you just say? Slow down a little? We still have ten tickets in the window, you can't slow down now." (Hell's Kitchen, my other summer TV obsession.) There is no slowing down. You gotta complete the service. Otherwise you leave people hungry.

(Baby steps. Yes, I remember, Topher.)

Yes Chef!

Nightmare on Our Street

Last weekend Pirates of the Carribean: Curse of the Black Pearl was on a network channel so I decided to commit it to TiVo. I hadn't seen it yet since I haven't been an avid moviegoer in the past few years. Hearing it was pretty scary for kids, I was reluctant to let G watch it with me. However, G hasn't been affected by any movies he's seen so far in his life. I have raised him to be very conscious that what he sees on a screen is simply a story (minus the news.) And so, I let him watch the movie with me, skeleton pirates at all. I made sure to check in with him during the movie and ask him if he was scared at all and he'd reply, "No Mom, it's just a story."

Still, the brain has a way of retaining images and regurgitating them in dreams. Naturally I was a little nervous that he would show up in our room at 2 am with dreams of skeletal pirates.

Nope. Really he *was* fine with it. But... yesterday something did scare him and it wasn't what I expected.

Yesterday morning I was breastfeeding NJ back in my bedroom while G watched Noggin in the living room. Suddenly G came running back to my room.

G: "Mom! There are people outside and I am scared."
Me: "Where are these people?"
G: "Outside on the sidewalk talking."
Me: "Well, if someone knocks, don't answer the door without me. You're fine in the house. Come get me if you get scared again."

He wandered off, back to his television program. I didn't hear any commotion outside or knocks on our door. My immediate thought was that many of our neighbors have yard service, and we see people come and go for that reason. I know I have been caught off guard durnig the day to hear loud male voices in close range, when it was simply a crew working next door. This activity doesn't usually scare G. Later I asked him more about what made him so nervous.

Me: "So, tell me more about these people that scared you... ."
G: "Well, I forget what they are called."
Me: "What were they doing? What did they look like?"
G thinks a moment: "You know those people who come and tell you about Jesus and wear blue backpacks?"
Me: "Ah, Mormons. With white shirts and ties?"
G nods: "Yeah, Mormons. They scare me."

I chuckle at this and later told M proudly: "No, a ship full of skeleton pirates doesn't scare my son, but Mormons... Mormons scare him. I guess we're raising him right after all."

The Surreal Life

I finally started putting more of NJ's clothes into the closet. I still have to organize them and I probably haven't yet gotten quite all of them hung up yet, but it's a step. This is a step into creating NJ's Room. The Nursery.

When I was still pregnant, people used to ask "Do you have The Nursery set up yet?" and I would casually reply, "No." NJ doesn't need a room of her own yet. Heck, she's not even in her co-sleeper yet. I like having her safely beside me because it makes all this more real to me. I have two kids. I have a baby. There is now a new life I am responsible for. When she ooches over next to my preferably naked torso so all she has to do is open her mouth and get The Boob, I feel connected to her. In these moments I feel like perhaps, just perhaps, this year hasn't been as surreal as it has occurred for me.

I sit and watch NJ quite a bit during the day, not in the same way we did when G was an infant. When G came along, M and I would watch him sleep, standing by the crib in complete awe of what we had created. With NJ it's different. I watch her and my life becomes more real, more delicate. Her presence means so many things. That my mother is gone and just how precious the bond is between mother and child. That I suddenly have a FAMILY, it's just not just M and I with G... a powerful threesome, each other's sidekicks. That I am getting older. That I should have my shit more together because life is no longer manageable, but a tremendous juggling act. That I don't know quite as much as I thought I did, which wasn't much in the first place.

Last night G was goofing off and just about to drive M and I crazy when he fell off the recliner with a loud thump. I was sitting next to him and saw him in my peripheral vision dive into the taut red leather and rebound onto the hardwoods below. G jumped up, startled with a look of guilt for not having listened to his father and I. I watch him start to open his mouth and tell me he was fine. Instead a loud howl of pain let loose and his face contorted to match the sound. I set NJ down and scooped my 40+ pound boy and comforted him. He managed not to crack his head, but rather stopped his fall by using the knuckles on each hand. As he howled, I watched him, amazed by his size. I used to watch a tiny face howl in front of me. How surreal to see that familiar expression of my son crying, but on a face the size of my own. When did this happen? When he he get so old? Where did my baby go?

In the next blink, NJ will be this big. It's hard to imagine now, at this moment. It's hard to fathom where I am. Who I am. What has happened. How Time has progressed.

Life is so very strange. Is it just me or do other people feel this way?

Knock on Wood, Any of Us Will Do

I don't know what has happened today, but something has. I AM HAVING A MOMENT TO MYSELF.

Egad.

Chloe is over today playing with G and they are having a smashing time. You wouldn't think it, but adding one has been easier than hauling just two of them around. Go figure.

Chloe and G keep each other occupied and NJ has been sleeping. It's been heaven! We ate lunch at McD's (where else?) and got G's hair cut by Ms. Connie, the only person allowed to touch his head, and then a brief shop at Babies R Us. Yowza! Perhaps I will run out and adopt a five year old sibling for G. (Nah, borrowing works just fine.)

Now, if I can just get NJ to sleep tonight...

A Month of Sundays

Sundays are days of rest. I can't say my days are filled with rest necessarily, but they do feel like they are on the edge of something beginning.

A month ago today I gave birth to NJ and the time has flown by. She doesn't seem like she's a month old, she still seems brand new. We're still doing "get to know each other" dance that is so wonderful and at the same time stressful.

NJ is growing like a weed. We don't get a whole lot of eyeball time around here. She's a sleeper and a fusser. Quiet eyeball time is nice when it happens.

My quiet is broken, time to get back to the babe and head to bed. :-)

Splat Went the Alternative

I received this email in my inbox today. I think I will cry now.

July 12, 2006

Dear Valued Customer!

Thanks for doing your shopping online at Albertsons.com. In an
effort to focus our attention on our in-store shopping
experience, this service will no longer be available in your
area as of July 21st. We're sorry for any inconvenience this may
cause you.

Although we'll be discontinuing this service, we want you to know
that Albertsons values your loyalty. We understand that grocery
shopping is just one of the many things you need to accomplish in
your day. That's why we're committed to providing you with clean
stores, fresh products and superior customer service.
In short, the best shopping experience possible.

We hope to see you in your local Albertsons store soon!

Albertsons, LLC
New Ideas at Work


Guess my grocery exploits will be late nights and weekends. *sighs*

The Bad Mother

We took our first foray into the public world today. As a mom with two kids. I think I have now really earned the title of Mom instead of Sidekick of Little Kid. This is just one of the things I am currently learning about the difference between having one child and two children.

With one child, you runs errands and have someone to chat with, someone to explain things to, someone you can reason with to some extent. With two children, "No" simply means "No" and the child just needs to get over it with an explanation. Mom had no time for explanations. Mom is just trying to find the right brand of toilet paper while the baby is crying and the child is finding the coolest thing he can't live another second without on that particular aisle.

So went this foray to the grocery store with G and NJ. It took us 45 minutes just to leave the house. NJ was screaming at the top of her lungs and G just had to find his lightsaber. (Why do we need a lightsaber to go to the grocery store?!?!?) NJ fell asleep in the car, thankfully. She's one of those babies, the car-sleeping kind, unlike G who can't bear to miss a moment of life.

As we hit the fruits and veggies area, I am thinking this won't be too bad. In and out, a slam dunk. NJ woke up in aisle 2. She's shrieking her head off again so I pull her out of the carseat carrier, steering the cart with one hand. G attempts to ride on the outside of the cart at times, and when he's not I am trying not to run over him. Within a few aisles, G gets bored and starts looking for those little trinkets hung on most of the aisles. Trinkets kids love.

G: "Mom, what's this?"
Me: "It's a squishy ball."
G: "I wish I could have this squishy ball."
Me: "You don't need that squishy ball."

We had this same conversation over the orange personal fan with light up blades, the hotwheels cars, toy airplanes, a potato shooter, a Spongebob Squarepants bottle with external straw and a pocket flashlight. Each item became more interesting than the last and each plea more desperate than the last. G was quick to point out the most interesting features of the item and tell me just how useful each item would be to us. "This sized flashlight could fit in my pocket and I could have it with me in case the electricity goes out." *blink, blink* *nod, nod*

"No."

By the frozen food aisle we are all nearly in tears. NJ announced she was done and demanded to know where the hell was The Boob. G was tired of being told "No" and was woefully sucking on the collar of his shirt, eyes red and puffy. I was wondering how long it would take to check out and get it all home and if M was gonna be home to help me unload the whole mess, kids and groceries.

It took $324 and sacked groceries in two baskets to get everyone and everything outside to the car. G climbed into his booster seat as I placed NJ's carrier in the base. I loaded a few groceries and climbed in the car myself. Off I went towards home, frantically calling M and praying he was close to home. He wasn't.

We got home and I convinced G to help me unload the groceries from the car into the kitchen. He obliged, as I promised to give him chore money for doing so. (So he can go back and get that orange personal fan with the light up blades cause it was the LAST ONE!) I brought NJ's carrier in to discover she wasn't strapped in. I had taken her out at the store a couple of times to appease her, but hadn't rebuckled any straps. Dammit. Due to overwhelm, I pulled a Bad Mother a la Britney.

I finished kicking myself mentally about that one. Moms have done these things and learned lessons from them throughout the raising of children. I learned my lesson, to check the buckles on both kids before starting the car. No assumptions.

Look Mom, No Hands!

That should be punctuated as Look! Mom = No Hands.

Having a newborn is a challenge. Having a newborn and a five year old adjusting to having a newborn is even more of a challenge. It's working itself out slowly.

G is having a rough time when it comes to M's time and attention. G wants all of M's attention. He doesn't want to share with NJ and even these days I am questionable. Tonight he didn't want to share M's attention with food. M asked G for a moment to finish eating but a complete meltdown ensued and Bad Cop Mama had to intervene. It got resolved, and not in the way G had expected. Bad Cop Mama always wins, I don't know why he doesn't know this. The negotiations and threats ended with me revealing a surprise gift being mailed, but those collection of McD's Cars from ebay was just the ticket in getting G to chill. When those vehicles do arrive I'll be renamed Hero Mama and all will be right with the world. In the meantime you can bet that G will offer to check the mail every day.

NJ is largely usurping all my time. She wants to be fed (read: suck, suck, snoooooooze, suck, suck, snoooooooze... etc.) and held most of the day. Today I folded as much laundry as possible with one hand. I don't know what I'll do for my next trick. If I could get the dishes washed with no hands, I would. (Monkey feet do no good in this case!) G loves to wash dishes, but it involves more sinking of ships in whatever form than actual soap and scrubbing. By the end of the summer, that may change... muahahaha!

Guess I should go crawl back into bed and snuggle my wee lass. She'll be up before I want her to be, probably just as I am drifting off myself. Such is the newborn life. :-)

Birth

When my mother died in November of 2005, I was a defeated woman. Totally decimated emotionally. I had certain expectations of myself, of my strength to go through the final chapter of my mother's cancer. I wanted to be strong for her, a rock. I also had 20 years worth of fear and trepidation come smashing together all at once. This was the time I had dreaded since my mom was diagnosed with cancer in 1985. Hope was gone. All there was to do was say good-bye and let go.

It was extremely painful to see my Mom get to the point where she gave in to the cancer, to say her good-byes and come to terms with her life. During this time, I found out that our numerous attempts to get pregnant with child #2 had come into fruition. Between dealing with my changing body and my mother's changing body, the strength I was sure I had seemed to leave me. I just couldn't cope. I shut down in so many ways, in constant pain. This pain, depression, anxiety and grief took over my life. In the end, I feel I handled Mom's death with as much grace as possible. But when all was said and done, I felt I didn't have the strength I thought I had. My capabilities as a person were diminished.

At this point, you may be thinking: "Isn't this titled 'Birth?'" It is. Not only did I give birth to a beautiful daughter on Father's Day, but something in me birthed as well.

As previously posted, Friday the 16th seemed like the day. I had contractions patterning out. As the day progressed, the contractions subsided. I woke up Saturday feeling pretty good. I had a few contractions through the day, nothing continuous or sporadic.

When I woke up Sunday, the contractions were back and patterning. They reached a consistent 5-7 minutes apart and were stronger than they ever had been. I called Mel, friend and doula, and asked her to head over. After we talked, we called the doctor who suggested I make the trip up to Baylor Hospital to be checked. They took me to a room and checked me. Sure enough, I was 4 cm and 80% effaced. Welcome to the Show, it is TIME.

In talking with Mel, we had agreed to postpone any epidural/narcotics until I was dilated to a 5 cm. This would *hopefully* prevent my labor from stalling out like it did with my son. We walked the halls, I sat and swiveled on the birthing ball, and sat on the toilet to open my hips. After all this, they checked me again: 4 cm. Phooey. My doctor decided to break my waters, since the Show had obviously started, but just needed a boost to really get kicking.

It got kicking. Pain overwhelmed me. I told Mel it was time for drugs. I was flirting with the idea of going straight to epidural, but Mel talked with me and I decided to use narcotics just to take the edge off. She requested that I get onto my feet and endure a few contractions before we proceeded and I reluctantly agreed. It took a few minutes for M and Mel to get me out of bed. We went back into the toilet area because sitting that way brought me the most comfort. I can't remember if was the first or second contraction that caused my legs to start shaking uncontrollably. I locked eyes with Mel. The pain was become more intense than I ever imagined. I emphasized how much I wanted the drugs now. I also told her I felt I needed to push. She calmly told me I didn't need to yet and to move on the next contraction.

I did, screaming. The nurse said it was time to check me so Mel and M helped me stand. When I did, I had to push, had to. I pushed with all my might. I knew something was happening, but wasn't sure what. I made it slowly across to the bed and laid down. The nurse came to check, sliding her hand down and a stunned look came across her face. She hurried to the call button and asked for my doctor NOW.

I was ready. Ready? READY? Ready for drugs, yes. Ready to give birth? I think I went into shock. My doctor came rushing in. There was a flurry of activity at the end of the bed. All I could think about what that I really needed the drugs, I wasn't strong enough to endure this pain. In the meantime, things got situated and doctor and doula told me to push. In another few pushes, Twiggy was suddenly on the outside on my chest. Voices were telling me to touch my new daughter.

I am still stunned. Somehow I found the strength to make it through and I managed the pain. I MANAGED THE PAIN. I refound my strength. It never left me, I simply underestimated myself.

Healing comes in all forms, and mine has come in a beautiful way. Through death to birth, pain to joy. I have a feeling that my relationship with NJ will be much like that of my Mom and I, one in which we teach each other about this Life. I am so blessed by her and so glad she's here. And I really wouldn't have wanted to get here any other way.

Baby Watch

Brief update:

3:15 am - woke up with back pain/back labor
5:15 am - groaning enough to wake up M
6:27 am - first contraction
6:37 am - second contraction, wahoo!
Skip to
8:30 am - Showering and packing, M calling work to cancel meetings
10:30 am - Doula friend arrives to go to doctor appointment, hand G to Kay with suitcase
11 something - Doctor says things moving along, tried to help things move a little faster without actual membrane stripage, tells us to walk
12 something - We walk, get good contractions 5-7 minutes apart and lasting longer. Now we're getting somewhere and I am holding up surprisingly well.
1 something - We sit to eat. So does Twiggy.
Sometime after that when home - More walking. Contractions are sporadic but continue.
After that walk - Trip to Whole Foods to load up on natural labor support items.
After Whole Foods - I make phones calls. Contractions sporadically continue.
8:00 - Protein packed smoothie for dinner.
9:00 - Waddle around the block. Oh yeah, still contractions, so what.
10:59 pm - Clearly this child is a product of me and will do this on her own damn time, thankyouverymuch. I blog about today with Star Trek playing as my background music for my Trekkie freak SIL. I quit waiting and head to bed.

I will guess that at 3:00 am just as I am falling into a deep sleep, Twigs will change her mind like a good Gemini and decide it's time to come out. Of course, I say this just to jinx it so I can get a FULL night's sleep.

You can never start too early with the reverse psychology. :-P

Other Brief Updates

Kitten Hell: We exited kitten hell last Friday. Feral Friends took the three little buggers. HUGE thanks to them for swooping in and playing hero when I needed it. If you want a kitten, they will be in the adoption area of Petsmart at Coit and Campbell this coming weekend.

Baby: Yes there is a baby, exactly where the baby has been for the past nine months. Contractions, nausea, etc. have subsided for the most part. Lots of pressure here and there and some back and hip aches. Twiggy wiggles all the time, and most of the time I can enjoy the alien motions of my abdomen. The bad thing at the moment is that I can't sleep again. And I even took my meds last night, which I had run out of and hadn't been able to get due to a pharmacy/insurance error. Tomorrow I am getting my membranes stripped which may or may not move things along.

Tales from the Back Seat: I haven't been taking the kids to swim this week. Kay took over the duty (THANK YOU KAY!) and has been hauling the kids back and forth. I rode along on Tuesday, but was so absorbed in speaking "adult" that I didn't eavesdrop on what the kiddos were discussing. Today is the last day for swimming lessons and parents get to watch for the first time. It's graduation all over again, new steps in their lives. I am packing my video camera, digital camera and tissues like a good soccer mom. Group hug anyone?

Imagination Update

On Saturday, before Marcus's sleepover party mentioned in the previous post, G told M that Marcus does in fact visit Italy under the cover of darkness. This left me speechless for a moment.

Me: "You believed him then?"
G nods sheepishly.
Me: "Then why did you argue with him?"
G looked at the floor and half-shrugged.
Me, shakes head.

Okay, so he probably does have an imagination somewhere in there yet. Perhaps it's the dynamic of a threesome: if two agree, then one is left to explore the opposing side. Because, surely, agreement between the three would leave the Universe lopsided and THEN where would we be?

Tales from the Back Seat: A Study in Imagination (or Lack Thereof)

This week I have been taking Chloe, Marcus and G to swimming lessons. I haven't spent much time with the kids alone, so it's been great to see the dynamics of this relationship. I know Chloe and Marcus are very close and G has been drawn to them like a moth to a flame. All three kids run at similar speeds: thoughtful, intelligent and grounded. What I am learning is that, although similar, there are some very distinct differences.

There have been two distinct conversations in my vehicle which have enlightened me further into the nature of my son. It has lead me suspect he doesn't have a wild imagination in his makeup. Or he watches too much Discovery and Science Channels. Or both.

Conversation #1 between Chloe and G on Tuesday:
Chloe: "Did you see that? I can see that because I have super eyes."
Me: "Super eyes?"
Chloe beams: "Yes, I can see lots of things, things other people can't."
Me: "How interesting!"
Chloe: "Yes, and you know what? I EVEN HAVE EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD."
G: "No you don't."
Chloe: "Yes I do."
G looks carefully at Chloe: "I don't see them. People don't have eyes on the back of their heads, Chloe."
Chloe looks indignantly at G and tosses her hair at him: "Yes I do, they are under my hair."
G: "Mom, Chloe doesn't have eyes on the back of her head." Turns to Chloe, "You can't have invisible eyes on the back of your head. It's not real, Chloe."
Chloe gets more flustered: "My MOM has them, and I have them and Shiloh has them. They run in OUR FAMILY."
I diffused the conversation for the length of the street until we reached Chloe's house, where it was promptly forgotten. (WHEW!)


Conversation #2 between Marcus, Chloe and G on Wednesday:
My mind was on traffic when I heard...
Marcus: "...when we went to Italy."
Chloe: "Italy isn't a real place."
Me: "Sure it is. Don't you eat Italian food like Pizza and Spaghetti? That's from Italy."
G: "Yeah, Italy is a real place."
Marcus: "I know. I eat those things when I go there. I go there at night when my parents are sleeping. I have been going since I was a baby. Mr. Sir meets me and takes me places."
Chloe huffs: "Mr. Sir"
The threesome erupt in giggles.
Chloe: "I want to go with you sometime. I know Mr. Sir."
Marcus: "You know Mr. Sir?"
Chloe: "Well... I know Mrs. Madam."
Marcus: "Oh. Well, when you sleep over, we can all go. We just have to be quiet and not let me parents know."
G takes his turn huffing: "You can't visit Italy in one night, Marcus. It takes a long time to get there. Italy is like halfway around the world. You have to take an airplane."
Marcus, quite matter of factly: "No, really. I go visit places, I have been doing it a long time."
Chloe, dreamily: "And you go the airport, right? I want to go too, Marcus."
G: "You really don't go places when you sleep."
Me: "We can go all sorts of places in our imaginations."
The kids get quiet and promptly change the subject.

Guess my adult input killed that conversation.

In Which the PETA Card Is Revoked

I love to tell stories about my son's vegetarian choices. It's an ideal I personally hold: to eat only grains, veggies and fruits. To have a shining karmic life in which no animal has to die to satisfy my palate or clothe my body. In my own little Utopian mind, I would live a strict Vegan life. As Jainist as possible.

There's one little problem for me living my life in that fasion... two really:

1)I love steak.

2)My body just doesn't feel right when I have abstained from meat.

So when my son said "No, no Chick'n" when he was under the age of 2, I was beside myself. If I couldn't live the life, I could raise one who would. Oh, I let the hot dogs, corn dogs and fish sticks slide, and didn't ever tell him they were meat. After all, I am doing my best to nuture him and encourage independent thought over telling him what to do. Still, I had that urge to nuture my idealism in G. (without going *too* overboard)

It did catch me off guard when G ordered chicken nuggets of his own free will at the Burger King a couple of weekends ago. I reminded him we were there to eat, not because they had the coolest indoor playground we passed. He said that the chicken nugget meal is what he wanted. And he ate every crown shaped nugget.

We've experienced this anomoly before: he'll order chicken nuggets and eat them but will swear off meat at the very next opportunity. But earlier this week, it happened again. We went to Sonic this time. I said "Grilled Cheese or Corn Dog?" which is G's usual Sonic fare. He wrinkled his face at me so I offered "...or they have Chicken Strips..."

"Chicken Strips" he said firmly. I glanced at him in the back seat and proceeded to order.

He ate them again.

On the drive home, I tried to be casual. "So... you're, um, eating some meat now?"

He paused and inquired, "Is chicken meat?"

I paused and replied, "Yes. Chicken is meat."

He took in this information thoughtfully. "Yeah, I like chicken. I won't eat that dark stuff though."

Me: "Dark stuff, you mean beef?"

G: "Yeah, that's nasty."

Me: "Mmmmm... okay, it's your choice. Always has been."

G: "I know."

Perhaps in the next life I will live my own Utopian dream. Or, own a premium steak house.

Genetic Tendency?

Yesterday, on the way back from the OBGYN's office, G was being chatty. Usually it involves running commentary of things he sees which then triggers some randomly connected thought.

About halfway home G became still and silence, admiring the somewhat cool midday breeze and the warming sun. He takes a moment and sighs:

"I want to go play golf."

I chuckled because it's just the type of thing that Mark might say, or rather, blurt out from his usually quiet ways. Like father, like son.

I say like father, except for that running commentary filled with seemingly unconnected interjections of random thoughts that really are connected to what was just said in a weird and twisted kind of way that would really take too long to explain exactly how that was connected to the perhaps not fully communicated thought started out with. That? That's like mother. :-)

Kitten Hell

I haven't written because sitting at the computer really hasn't been my focus in the past few days.

I am in my ninth month of pregnancy and things have been touch and go. We've completed our birthing refresher course and I am feeling more ready mentally and emotionally. And no, the nursery is not done yet. We'll get there. I am not worried or concerned about that... just yet.

The main thing weighing on my mind is kitten hell. Did I, Cat Mom to four, just say that?!?! Yes, yes I did. The kittens are becoming a nightmare.

Yesterday I woke up not feeling myself. In fact, I slept away the first half of the day. Then, I would have small sets of contractions, enough to practice blowing and groaning. In between these I would have short bursts of random energy. In one of these bursts I decided to clean out the kittens' cage and give them a bath. They have been super stinky without Mama Cat to clean them and because they haven't been "regular."

As I cleaned each kitten, I admired how cute each of the three is. They relished and languished in the attention, completely ignoring the fact they were being dunked in water and soaking wet. The enjoyed the intesive towel rubbing and for a moment, I flirted with the idea that perhaps they were meant to be mine after all.

I'm done flirting.

I walked in this morning to check on the three babies and they went NUTS. All three climbed up onto the carrier door and hung on for dear life. I had a fresh bowl of food and had to open the now weight-loaded door and shove the food in before plucking each one off the door and placing them at the back of the carrier so I could shut the door in time.

However, it was the moment I opened the door, I wanted to cry. Not cry in a good way, I wanted to cry because there was cat poo EVERYWHERE. Except the tiny box I crafted out of an infant sized shoe box lid I had. They don't seem to have the immediate instinct to use the nice stuff they can dig in. Now, I do have to give them a tiny break on this, because out of sheer terror, they have been holding their precious poo. Eating and eating and holding and holding. And it looks like they all exploded, finally. This is good because cat poo when held makes kitten stink to high heaven. Now they won't stink. But now they need their carrier scrubbed again and each needs a bath, again.

Perhaps that was the plan. Perhaps they WANT baths, being attention starved. Yeah, I like that spin. They love me so much and want my attention SO MUCH they created a Master Poo Plan. "This will force her to hold us more and love on us. Okay guys, on three let the poo flow!"

No, it just makes me more desperate to find a home for these buggers. Or take them to a shelter with a euthanization policy. *shudders* I am trying to maintain GOOD cat karma by performing this rescue. I didn't want them run over or eaten by the coyotes. I certainly don't want to see them put asleep when we all worked so hard to keep them comfortable and alive. *sighs*

With a little time and patience I think they'll work it out. I just don't think I have the time or patience.

Please pray the Feral Friends adoption coordinator will email me tonight with good news... I certainly am.