Mood swings and other things.

Stress and I aren't the best of friends under normal circumstances, throw in a growing fetus and I'm a freaking mess, incapable of handling a hang nail much less anything needing inner strength, patience or whatever you people use for coping mechanisms. I hate to admit it, but I've always been a little jumpy or easily agitated in tough situations. Mostly those of the emotional kind, not so much the get things done kind.

I had a meltdown last Friday at dinner. This was after two solid hours of shrieking baby hanging off from leg. I was in the thick of needy toddler time and I won't lie and tell you how pleasant it is to be needed all day every day because it is not my favorite part of parenting. I like watch from afar while happy children play quietly with books or listening to be sure they aren't shaving the cat or eating rat poisoning kind of parenting.

Needless to say, after those two hours of what felt like having the hair on my toes dug out with a potato peeler, I was a little touchy and I might have freaked out a little bit completely lost all composure and sanity. I would like to add that I am frightfully ashamed of my behavior and mortified that I let myself get so upset rather than just counting to 10 like good mothers do. But to be honest and fair I am not going to sugar coat the severity of my craziness because I know for a fact that I am not alone. Mothers lose it and they lose it bad sometimes. We are always expected to be everything, the shining example of perfection all day every day and to look good while doing it. All so we can be subtly reminded that this isn't a real job.

So I mentioned it was dinner time, right? Dinner at my house isn't always fun unless I'm making tacos or chicken. Neither of which I had that evening because I hadn't done a real grocery shop since our Christmas hiatus at the in-laws. I had fish sticks, or fish sticks. My 7 year old wasn't impressed but she reluctantly agreed since there was the slightest hint of desperation in my voice.

I'm juggling a starving baby, french fries, fish sticks and 5 binks, so when I tell you I was not excited to see her holding her nose while her aforementioned dinner was sizzling in the oven is an understatement. I pleaded with her to please not give me a hard time, I needed her to give mama a break this one time and get over herself just this once. If she ever loved me and wanted to show it, now was the time.

I guess she wasn't feeling the love because I got the eye roll and the play with her food while on the verge of tears until I gave in and let her eat effing Captain Crunch for dinner. Well guess what? We were out of Captain freaking Crunch on Friday and mama wasn't budging.

I guess it is becoming clear when the meltdown began, hmm?

My voice got a teeny bit louder as I exclaimed to her that she was to eat those freaking fish sticks right now and not give me any shit about it or I was going to have to walk out the door. I meant that I was walking out the door to take a brief break, she took it how any 7 year old kid would take their mother freaking out while loudly telling her that I've had it and I can't take it anymore. Of course she started to cry which only made matters worse for me and I continued to ramble on and on about how horrible it was to be me and all kinds of other damaging things that I didn't mean but would certainly trigger counseling later on.

Lucky for us her father arrived right then and alleviated the stress I was showering upon our innocent child, thank GOD! I held my composure for maybe two minutes and started to bawl. I cried for S because she didn't deserve to take the brunt of my pent up annoyance, I cried because I was failing at being a mother, I cried because I was ashamed for allowing myself to fail in such a miserable way and I was crying because I couldn't be what everyone needed all the time. I hated what I was capable of and despised the fact that I couldn't just walk in the other room for a moment and regain control. I threw a tantrum to make any two year old proud except that I am the grown up and supposedly had outgrown such horrific actions.

Of course I apologized and explained and cried and apologized again and reminded her that none of that was her fault, that was not about her and her fish sticks and more about me and my imperfections that I am not proud of. I held her tight in my arms and kissed her perfect forehead and told her that I loved her and no matter what she said or did I would never leave her but damn it all I can't take it back. No matter what I say or how hard I wish and try, it happened. It wasn't fair or right, but it happened. I'm her protector, the person to build her up so outsiders can't tear her down and there I was casting stones at her fragile structure and creating bad memories that I couldn't take away.

I never claimed to be perfect, but I hope that I'm never that ugly again. If I am, I hope and pray that time and love can minimize the damage done. We joke later about how mama freaked out about fish sticks because making light makes it easier to swallow but it still really sucks that she has that in her memory bank.

It is extremely difficult to put this out in black and white for others to read and relate or even judge, but I did it anyway. I did it because I don't want to hide it. I wrote it in hopes that it will remind me when minutes get bad to find a way to deal with my stress in better ways. Maybe instead just get a bowl of Captain Crunch.

Pink?

Good thing I like it. We are being blessed with another girl. We're both okay, I know J really wanted to have a son but I guess that is just not what is meant for our family. Three of a kind......nothing wrong with that.

For those seeking wisdom.

Christmas lights are not that far off from donkey balls.

Before you wonder if I'm alive

Here I am!! I am reading and snooping through everyone else's stuff but I have shamelessly neglected my own world for no good reason. I have no excuse except for blatant laziness. Oh sure, the kids keep me duct taped most days but that shouldn't keep me from my devoted readers.

Truth is my lazy butt has been slumping around the house wearing sweats and eating ice cream sandwiches. I am not a happy pregnant person. I always start out optimistically thinking that I am going to cherish every ligament pain and the enormous swellage of my awesome cleavage, but the real story is I detest the pregnant part. No, that isn't strong enough. I fucking hate it. Pardon my french but I'm am not kidding.

Having said that, I am by no means a hater of cute babies. In fact, the first 20 minutes after birth is sheer bliss. I am in heaven, feeling the abundance of love and bonding with my new child.

Then the little squeeler starts to cry and my life is over.

I'm not ready for another kid right now. Of course I will love this baby and take care of him/her and give her everything I give my other kids and once I see those bright blue eyes looking into mine there will be no turning back. I will be that baby's mother and protect and care for that sweet innocent child until I am rendered dead or they kick me out of their dorm room. But I can't help but feel just a bit of hesitation.

So here I sit in the middle of my 16th week and finally starting to really feel pregnant. My jeans are getting tight, my face is getting puffy, my tummy will reach monstrous proportions in the near future, and I will once again give life to a huge ass baby. I wonder if I will top 10 lbs this time. That is so not funny to me.

I guess there are plenty of reasons I have been absent lately. I'm not feeling the whole anticipation so much so that I want to blog/talk/think about it all the time. I am excited for this to be over and to meet my new darling baby, but I'm really not wishing it were May anytime soon.

On a much more positive note, I have my ultrasound on December 10th and we can finally start labeling the fetus as he or she. Yay! And to top it off I get to have a 3D ultrasound because I am seeing another OB this time and that is the only option they have. Oh poo! Can you hear the genuine disappointment in my words? I may not become blogger of the year up to that point but once get some news I will certainly pass the word on. And eventually, when I am feeling more pregnant and less fat, I'll post a picture of my perfectly round belly. Promise.

Bring on the TIDE

You know what scares me the most about having another baby?

Laundry.

When am I going to find time to be all the things I need to be when I am stuck in the laudry room or in a chair nursing an infant?

It ain't gonna be pretty. I'm never going to change clothes. Ever.

Just a few pics......

just because I'm very lazy right now and having a hard time finding time to write stuff that makes sense....and all these really cute days have come and gone without a single word from the writer and creator of this funny little blog. How dare I neglect my loyal fans...all five of you deserve way more than that. So anyway....to make a long story short...here is a fun day playing in the leaves just before halloween then a fabulous birthday for a fabulous lil' baby girl....I hope you all enjoy. I'll fill in more blanks later. Or I won't.

I'm pregnant, leave me alone.












The end.

I'm here

Just distracted and busy with kids.

The baby isn't at a stage where I can sit and write much right now and night time is bed time for me.

I'm just so danged tired lately. One of the kids I take care of has needed a babysitter more regularly lately and he comes at 6 am. And when he arrives he is 100% on for the day. Usually once he gets here the rest of the house wakes up in spite of my desperate attempts to keep him from running, shouting, singing, or whatever else strikes his fancy at 6 O'CLOCK IN THE EFFIN' MORNING!! Another little girl I take care of doesn't come until 1 pm but stays until 7:30 pm. Those are the long days....I babysit for 13 hours total with 5 kids throughout certain parts of the day for $50.00. It hardly seems worth it when I'm 2 seconds from mental break down for an entire day...but it is what needs to be done to keep us afloat while J is in graduate school, so I do it.

And did I mention I make a lot of babies? Because I do.

I'm 11 weeks now; almost through the first trimester. Everyone swears this is our boy except for one of my smart, intuitive friends. I am leaning towards her feeling because I just know I'm going to have three girls. I have also been dreaming of boys and that has happened with every single pregnancy. I don't know. Maybe I don't have a damn clue what the sex is but my gut is saying girl. I guess we'll all know soon enough. For J, I would love a boy. He would be a great father to a son.

Another distraction has kept me silent because I don't know enough about it. I know that I'm worried and my gut is telling me for good reason. My birth mother is in the hospital in Halifax as we speak with a tracheotomy and a biopsy waiting for results. She's sick again and it doesn't look promising. They are going to take her voice box this time, her vocal chords will remain in tact so her "voice" will sound as close to hers as possible but she will no longer be able to talk in the way that all of us talk. This is the good news.

I don't know what her test results will show. They are going to do biopsies to see if its cancer again (I'm sure it is) and they are going to do some body scans to see if she doesn't have it elsewhere. I'm worried because she has had a lung infection for 8 months or more. Maybe I'm reading into things but the big warning sign of her cancer early on was her voice. She had "laryngitis" for a year before they finally concluded she had cancer.

So this is what I know to be true. In a couple of weeks I'll know if it is worse than that. All I can think is if she doesn't survive this both of my parents will be dead. I am not ready for that reality. But I'm not burying her just yet. She is a tough woman. I know what she is made of, that Tompkins' blood may be tainted with a little wild...but with that comes a will stronger than nails and if anyone can make it through it is her. If this cancer is beatable, she will beat it. I have no question.

So that's my status and I will try to write more when I get a chance. Those are just few and far between right now.

To my First Born

You are beautiful and I Love You. I hope you know that you are always going to be special. My first baby. I never truly knew love until the moment I laid eyes upon your beautiful face.

I remember every detail of our first meeting vividly as if it were last night. You were born after an emergency c-section and I didn't get to see you until four hours after your birth. It felt like I had to wait years to hold you in my arms. Then finally a nurse wheeled you into our tiny shared room and I held you for the first time.

You cried.

"She has the cutest little cry I've ever heard." I said.

"Tell me that in a few months." said the nurse.

We laughed.

But I never got tired of listening to you cry. In fact I thought it was so cute sometimes I would scare you on purpose (not real bad...just a little rah) just to hear you cry. Then I would hug you and tell you everything was okay because mama was right here.

I never said I was a healthy 24 year old mother. But I was trying my best. :-)

Your Father and I went through this learning process together as young newly weds. We had been married only two years when you were born and half of that he spent on tour in Korea with the Army. We barely knew each other.

You bonded us forever with our shared love for the most beautiful child we had ever laid eyes on. You rocked our world to the very core and life has been so full and blessed ever since you came to us on your bright, shining star.

So maybe I carved your name in your special pumpkin we grew upside down. No matter, you are the greatest gift ever given and no matter how many babies come our way you are always going to be MY first. No one will ever be able to take your place in my heart.

If I could make just a few requests....

I don't want to seem selfish or ungrateful for my beautiful babe screaming bloody murder in the next room, but would it be horrible if I were to wish for one that was quieter this time 'round. One that didn't wail from morning to...well..morning.

Could this new baby have an easier time with teething perhaps?

And maybe this one won't walk at 10 months. Let's shoot for say, 13 months. Just old enough but not so old that I would worry.

I would also like to put in for a mild, even tempered baby. One that cried or talked even for food, diaper or sleep would be great.

Also one that eats whatever I put in front of him or her without much fuss. Would it be too brazen to ask for one that slept through the night at around 3 months, breastfeeding and all? Lets shoot for a 3 hour feeding schedule by day with little to no puke in the face afterward and 5 solid sleeping hours at night, if you could manage 10 straight hours I wouldn't argue.

Since I'm asking, one that was potty trained, never sick and talking in complete, polite sentences at birth would be fantastic. If they had a job that would be okay, too. Rent money would help cover the cost of booze that I will need to consume once this child is off the boob. A trust funder would be ideal if you could.

Reaching, reaching, reaching for the stars here, I know. But after the last two years, I'm entitled to a few requests. Any or all that can be filled would be much appreciated.

P.S. Please make my husband lactate this time.

Eventually

I will stop making babies.

We are pregnant.

Again.

The Littlest Thief

My baby is trying to steal someone else's lovey. And if you're childless and unsure of what a lovey is then think of your most prized possession and imagine someone stealing it from you every time they saw you with it. That's what E is doing the the girl toddler I care for.

She has her beloved "Ellie", which is a fluffy elephant she was given on her 1st birthday. Since receiving this special stuffed animal she has carried it around without fail and refuses to sleep without it. It's her special thing that brings comfort and joy to her life beyond compare. Never has she loved another toy as much as her elephant.

And my daughter will not stop taking it from her and hugging it with all her might. Every time the girl toddler arrives her little face lights up and shrieks of happiness and delight fill the house. One would think, aww, she likes to see my favorite girl toddler come to visit.

Nope.

She loves her lovey. And that's it.

The minute she walks through the door E immediately walks over with her hands waving in elation and snags that little elephant right from the hands of the unsuspecting girl toddler. Lucky for me, the girl toddler reluctantly hands over her beloved without much fuss.

Not that she has to, either. This is her special toy and I don't make the kids share everything. They are allowed one or two things that are all their own that they can tuck safely away from the sticky, predatorial hands of the other monkeys. Everyone should have a little piece of themselves that is all their own.

I am very proud of her for sharing her lovey. What a big milestone for her to share something so precious to her. For me, it would be like sharing a piece of cheese cake with blueberry topping and the last person who tried lost a finger. I could take lessons from this young person.

My big challenge now is to keep my youngest from becoming a clepto.

Reality

An excerpt from True Mom Confessions. Not as much a confession as it is a plea...and a valid one at that.

"my sister died last saturday in a horrible car accident. she was driving, wearing her seatbelt, and someone crossed the yellow line and hit her head on. that someone was texting while driving.
my sister was 28 years old. she was my best friend. i don't know if i can go on without her. i had just talked to the day before and i didn't say "i love you" before i hung up the phone.

i hate myself.

please don't ever text and drive. my sister would still be alive if that other person hadn't. and my 5 year old nephew would still have his mommy. now he has no one. his dad died in iraq."


The number of accidents caused by driver distraction is greater than even driver intoxication.

Cheat

I caved.


Animal crackers for snack today.



I know, I know.

I'm an idiot.

S thought it was funny.

My grocery cart

was packed full of fruits, veggies, a few new spices and various types of beans.

I'm so excited for this new change. Like I said, I have no idea how I plan to convert my family over to a veggie table but I'm going to give it a try. I'm not going to kill myself if I have chicken parm and I'm not going to expect those around us to comply with our eating habits when cooking a meal to share with us.

And we're having turkey on Thanksgiving. Because traditions are traditions and I guess you could call me a hypocrite but I feel like any change for the better beats staying the same.

Funny, I asked the hubster last night what he thought we should do and we both agreed one turkey isn't going to deplete the ozone, not even a day later S was all...."are we still having turkey on Thanksgiving?" Hahaha.

I'm not saying to the world that I am all high and mighty about making this large sacrifice for animals or for the environment and that we will be bionic healthy homosapeans and the rest of you will rot the flesh off your bones by poisoning your body with the blood of other animals; that's just not the way we roll here . And I will occassionally indulge. We all will. I don't think I could swear off taco's forever and I'm 100% positive that S won't.

But every little thing you do helps.

Every time you slow your car by 5 mph you save gas. Everytime you recyle anything you're helping. Anytime you plant a tree. Anytime you take a brisk walk. Anytime you choose to take just one small step in saving yourself, the environment, or even an animal's life you're improving the world.

Anyway, I'm opening the floor for any ideas to helps us along our journey or even a yummy vegetarian recipe you serve your own family. If I try anything super fantastic that you all just have to try, I will post it.

Vegetarianism, it's not just a good idea.

It's about living a lifestyle that promotes not only healthier living but also protects our planet as well as the lives of innocent animals.

Unthinkingly, I clicked on a video from a random person's myspace account. It was her mini platform for why she didn't eat red meat. I have to admit that I was saddened by the contents of the short documentary-like film. And since that day my husband and I have been discussing the big conversion.

I guess I've never really thought of the process for the animals. The birth, immediate separation from their mothers, and crowded living conditions is heart wrenching without even considering their death or the painful procedures they endure. Chickens have their beaks cut off without painkillers, pigs have tails cut and teeth pulled, cows suffer branding, castration and dehorning. The list goes on and on. The cruelty is unbelievable and regardless of organic or free range conditions, atrocities are still occurring every single day by the meat industry.

Now assuming I could ignore the treatment of animals, there are still other things to consider like health problems arising due to the unhealthy consumption of meat. Research has shown that vegetarians are at lower risk for obesity, heart disease and various forms of cancer.

Hmm...you don't say. Personally, I'm not so concerned about the obesity part or the heart disease, but I do notice the rising occurrence of cancer in our country and can't help but think there's a possible connection. Not that the other two aren't serious concerns we should all consider, but I believe genetics and lifestyle plays an important role in the first two circumstances. That's not to say that cancer, genetics and lifestyle don't interact together in some way, but even someone who manages to bypass obesity or coronary heart disease simply by practicing adequate portion control and consuming less fatty meat could still be at a high risk for cancer.

Why? Because of the antibiotics and chemicals pumped into animals we eat in order to make them grow bigger and faster than ever before. This ensures a quicker and larger profit in the pockets of the assholes running the industry. We all know when it comes to money, morals don't always play an important role in the minds of those lining their pockets.

For me, another valid point is the damage, caused by raising animals for consumption, to our environment. I was shocked to learn that nearly half of the water consumption here in the U.S. is used to raise animals for food. Studies show that a vegetarian diet requires roughly 300 gallons of water per day compared to that of a meat-based diet, which is 4,000 gallons. Staggering numbers really, especially since we are at high risk of a water shortage at some point in our lives, if not our children's. There is also the risk of polluting our rivers and lakes due to the run off from factory farms. Farmed animals will produce 130 times the excrement as the entire human population of the United States.

It is also said that high levels of airborne methane due to the waste produced by animals is one of the culprits for global warming. The Environmental Protection Agency has warned that methane is 20 times more effective at trapping heat in the atmosphere than even carbon dioxide.

I will be honest, I have no idea how I'm going to implement this lifestyle into our home. I have been a meat-eater for 31 years and have never had the desire to change until now. And not because I am turned off by the taste of meat since reading and watching video on this subject. I love me a big ol' bucket of chicken and nothing makes me happier than grilling a juicy steak on a summer's day, but I'm fairly certain Old McDonald didn't plan on the above. In fact, I think he'd be fairly disappointed that his pigs, chickens and cows were treated with such disregard. We are taught to treat animals with respect and love them....all except the one's we like to eat.

How's that for hypocrisy??? I just don't think that after learning about it I can honestly feel good about my food choices if there's a big old slab of ham sitting on my plate.

Eight Weeks.

I remember like it was yesterday, walking through the gate and out onto the runway to board my plane. One of the really small planes that had a lot of turbulence. I sat towards the back and had tears streaming down my face as I watched my home fade into the clouds like an old memory.

I walked into battalion in the middle of the night. There were people from all over the country sitting around me Indian style on old worn out carpet. We were listening to more experienced soldiers scare the living shit out of us. I don't remember much of what was said except that there was an amnesty box in the back of the room and if we had contraband, now was the time to get rid of it or suffer the consequences. What those were I didn't know but I didn't have anything to worry about; the person I was planning on turning into didn't break rules or push the envelope.

Finally the talking ended and we filed into fluorescent rooms with identical double door lockers and rows of metal bunk beds with ancient mattresses that were laden with thin white sheets and green woolen blankets that smelled a little like moth balls. I had arrived at basic training and this was my new reality, the new life I had chosen for myself. A new beginning.

Nothing was familiar. There weren't any comforts of home to be had and any attempt at becoming too cozy was squashed by a DS(drill sergeant)just waiting to drop you on your face.

It wasn't 8 weeks. Basic training was 8 weeks but that did not begin the moment you stepped foot on Uncle Sam's property. I had to be in processed before those 8 weeks started and it killed me. I needed a goal, something tangible to hold onto to comfort me while my footing was no where to be found. Everything was taken from me and stuffed into a bag and vaulted. They literally strip you down to nothing and turn you into a number, and a last name. I was no longer me. I was nothing more than a Private, if I was lucky I was Private Doughty.

The scariest thing to me at the time, scarier than even the possibility of going to war, was the shots. I've got to be kidding, right? I'm not. My heart raced a million miles an hour thinking about it. I asked everyone I dared speak to what it was like. They didn't use needles there, they used guns. Guns that shot liquid into your arm like tiny shards of glass. It was quick and felt like a fire shooting through my arm. I passed out after the first one. Not right away, though. I was standing in line for the second and passed out right in front of a room full of people. I held onto the person ahead of me and started laughing like I was just given a shot of morphine and fell straight to the ground. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one.

A week passed before I climbed aboard the bus that would take us to our new home for the remainder of my stay at Fort Jackson. The place where I would finally begin the 8 week countdown.

Basic from that point on was just that. You're there to learn the basic skills and mentality that you need to survive as best you can if sent to war.

"What makes the green grass grow?"

"Blood, blood makes the green grass grow Drill Sergeant!!!!"

We shouted that response as we did flutter kicks at 3 am. Just for fun.

They teach you about propriety. How to salute, how to stand when in the company of other soldiers with higher rank than you. It is all very political and can be quite degrading. But there was a lot of honor as well. A sense of respect was commanded from higher ranking, at least there anyway.

Some of the soldiers were picked on for being slow or not being able to shoot a gun properly. I was never one of those but I was one of the soldiers who would quietly take pity on the guy in front of everyone doing push up after push up while mail was being passed out. I hated seeing the underdog get singled out.

The food was horrible but we ate it and fast. There was never enough time for chow and they would hold food over our heads as if it were a reward. The DS's would scan the chow hall looking for someone with their hair all jacked up or perhaps someone brave enough to take dessert with their meal just hoping to humiliate them. I never loved cake so much in my life. I could have cared less if I ate sweets before, but the minute someone told me I couldn't have it I craved it like an addict craves his fix. What I would've done for a piece of shitty chocolate cake.

Learning about my M16 was great and I was good with my rifle. Even with a bum eye. I had to use my right eye to find the target then take aim because my left is basically useless. It didn't matter though, I was quick. My DS stood behind and watched one day as the rain poured down upon me. I was flat on my belly, my rifle propped and ready, nailing target after target.

"Now that's the way it's done." he said.

I'd never felt so proud in my life. My self confidence skyrocketed that day; I'll never forget that feeling.

They tell you that DS's are there to break you down to nothing and then build you back up. Their job was half finished with me because I had already been broken. But when I left basic I had a sense of pride within myself that felt better than any high I had ever experienced. I truly felt I was capable of anything.

I'll never forget those 8 weeks. As they came to a close I wished that it would never end. I didn't want this feeling to pass and I certainly didn't want to leave my new found family. But eventually we all left. And gradually, over time, so did the confidence.

A piece of that pride still resides in me, but once your track is laid, you are who you are and it's going to take a lot more than 8 weeks to change that. It sure was great, though, for that small amount of time, to feel invincible.

I don't mean to brag

but my baby is WALKING!! She took her first steps a couple weeks ago at 8 months...but is perfecting at 9 months. This week she has progressed from 2-3 steps to the lenght of the living room.

Next month I expect she'll be repelling down the side of her crib.

111

Because I'm not particularly good at regurgitating what is happening in my crazy world lately, I thought I would post my 100 things. Only I'm doing 111 because that's the way I roll.

111. I say wicked.
110. Usually followed by good.
109. I married a really handsome geek.
108. I like the dark edges of the saltine the best.
107. I like burned popcorn, too.
106. Sometimes I don't take a shower for 2 days.
105. I was in the Army.
104. I gained 25 lbs in basic training.
103. I used to go to church 3 times a week.
102. My feet are gigantic.
101. I'm only 5'2".
100. I don't know if I have 99 more things.
99. I have two daughters, both born by c-section.
98. I felt like a huge failure the first time.
97. The second time I felt lucky.
96. I am not always the best mother in the world.
95. I hate waking up in the morning.
94. I love Johnny Cash.
93. I was born on Johnny Cash's birthday.
92. I do not always walk the line.
91. I'm scared of ruining everything.
90. My mom survived cancer.
89. I have lived longer than my father did.
88. I have a problem believing people like me.
87. I'm paranoid.
86. I cut myself nearly 100 times when I was a teenager.
85. I never did that again.
84. I drank too much when I was in the Army.
83. I regret the time and money I wasted on that.
82. My nickname is Ropie! WTF!
81. At least I married a handsome geek.
80. Okay, that doesn't count again. I'm grasping now, aren't I?
79. I am still friends with some of the people I met on my first day of school.
78. I learned Russian. Zdrasvootye
77. I wish I could remember it better.
76. I like sex and candy.
75. I know all the words to the theme from The Dukes of Hazzard.
74. I have skinny dipped.
73. I've moved 10 times in 10 years.
72. I'm a handful sometimes.
71. I used to be a handful all the time.
70. I am not brave enough to jump out of airplanes.
69. I inhaled.
68. If what they taught me in church is true I'm going to the fiery pits of hell and burning for eternity.
67. I am smarter than our president.
66. I support the troops coming home.
65. I believe in love at first sight.
64. I would rather cuddle most days.
63. My grandmother's name was Bea Good.
62. I still think that is funnier than hell.
61. I take care of other people's children by day.
60. I am a porn queen by night.
59. I mean drama queen.
58. I was a teenage pregnancy.
57. So were my 3 brothers and sisters.
56. I was petrified of demons as a child.
55. I slept with my mother until I was 14.
54. I was a band geek.
53. I don't work as hard as I could.
52. Sometimes I am sad for no reason.
51. I say shit, fuck and damn.
50. I'm over half done this ridiculous task.
49. I started this last night.
48. I like driving fast.
47. I love Harry Potter.
46. I've read all 7 books in the series.
45. I hate sushi.
44. I love to cook.
43. I look forward to traveling when my kids are bigger and money isn't as much an issue.
42. I sing in the car and assume no one is out there laughing their butts off at me.
41. I have a reoccurring dream about buying a big old house that is full of secret rooms and keeps growing and growing.
40. I love when I have that dream.
39. I wear white after labor day.
38. Sometimes I catch my oldest daughter praying. I've never taught her about prayer.
37. I talk waaaaaaaaay too much and sometimes interrupt people unintentionally because I can't stop talking.
36. I was Princess Esmarelda in the 4th grade play and slipped on the remains of a pie I tossed in the face of one of my "court" during a performance. I was mortified.
35. I got boobs first, or so I'm told.
34. In my youth I tried to grow up too fast and now in my 30's I'm trying to stop time.
33. I would get a boob job.
32. I was my maid of honor's maid of honor.
31. Thinking of this many things is tough.
30. I raised money for the French Club my freshman year and gave the money to my best friend for her trip to France.
29. I would have loved to go but there was no way in corn dog hell that I could have.
28. I didn't even ask.
27. I smoked cigs and made out with boys in the woods at bible camp.
26. I picked potatoes and worked on a harvester.
25. Picking potatoes was the hardest work I've done for the smallest amount of money sans mothering my babies and taking care of my husband.
24. I love the smell of a crisp fall breeze.
23. I could talk to my husband for hours and hours and hours.
22. I am approaching 10 years of wedded blisssssters.
21. I am leaving that because I am really corny and find it funny.
20. I love mocha chip ice cream.
19. I wish I could smell gas without killing brain cells.
18. When I was pregnant I had to stay away from gas because I wanted to drink it.
17. I love rock n' roll.
16. I was cross eyed as a small child and had strubismus surgery when I was 3.
15. I think the trailer park boys are funnier than hell.
14. Nethermind about 14.
13. When I go home I immediately start talking like a county hick.
12. Lobster is delicious. But only if it comes from MAINE!!!!!
11. I love building fires.
10. I worked at Sun Glass Hut!!!
9. I love to sing.
8. I am my own worst critic.
7. I wish that I was smarter, prettier and richer.
6. I will be really happy when self acceptance truly takes over my life.
5. I think it comes in your 40's if you work hard.
4. I admire the wisdom of old people.
3. Bea Good would have been 100 years old on her last birthday.
2. I want to RV across America.
1. I am in awe of the universe and all it's complexities...more than my tiny mind could ever even grasp I imagine.

So there's 111 things. I hope it was entertaining.

I am trying!

I want to post. No really, I do...but the words are escaping me. My visit home was perfect. I wouldn't change anything except for that leaving part. It was hard this time 'round. Fo' sho'.

More later. Like funny stories about my scary watch dog defying death by hiding under the covers when her fate was tested. And subtle references to bears and the likes of which I do not wish to meet in the dark late at night, much less sober.

So if you're wondering where I've been all these days there's your answer. Part of it I was having a blast with family and friends and seeing places I haven't been for a long time, especially in the summer months. And part of it I was/am wallowing wishing I could return and get a few more days of old fashioned county fun.

Summer Vacation

So far life has been rather exciting here at the crazy house. Summer vacation is underway and the kids all have permanent flavor ice brain freeze. I just have the plain old losing my mind brain freeze. Life is good.

Wildlife abounds everywhere we turn. Butterflies are fluttering, birds are chirping, slugs are slimming and snakes are slithering. Even baby turtles are making appearances on nature walks. Oh, and spiders are laying their egg sacs in the kid's goggles....


and cool frogs are appearing out of nowhere...


and did I mention that adorable babies are having tea on my kitchen counter??


She's also doing other cutsie things like crawling and pulling herself up. We had to lower her crib mattress the other night and just in time because she's now standing up in her crib. And she's oh so proud of herself. We always cheer her on and give her loud applause when she does something cool. The dimpalicious smile she flashes in return is only the most adorable thing you ever did see.

I must admit, I am very lucky that I'm surrounded by little people. Adorable happens a lot here with the babe, 2 year old girl, 3 year old boy, and even the 7 year old girls manage to kill me with cuteness once in a while. The toddler boy is always making deals and having heart attacks..."if I eat this all, I'm gonna watcha movie!", the toddler girl is melting my heart every day with her baby blues staring up at me. That and the fact that her bathing suit sounds a lot like "baby soup". The older girls are just funny, reminding me daily that even though they seem much bigger than the others, they are still very little. Because they still eat hamgurbers and tell me how that baby's heart sure is beeping fast. Even if they're saying all these things while applying cherry berry lip gloss and flipping their hair over their shoulder.

I'll tell you, I may be losing my mind but it's much more appealing that sitting at a desk in some stuffy office somewhere pounding out mundane chores on a keyboard. I may get sick of wiping fingerprints and asses, but at least I'm loved. Loved in the simplest of ways and without expectations other than a safe place to play and food to eat. Sure, it's a thankless job, but the thank you's come in other forms. Like giant hugs and a quick "wuv you" when they're heading home for the night and tiny whispers begging to "please just let me stay wiff you." That you absolutely will not get from any office.

Father's Day

I can't really tell you from experience as a daughter what the definition of a father is. My own father died when I was three years old in a tractor accident. Sounds really strange and very county-ish. But it's true. He raced stupid tractors at the pulls during the summer fair in August. He would practice on old field roads, which are a dime a dozen where I'm from.

One hot summer day in July he was out horse-playing with that silly tractor he and his buddies had tricked out with testosterone, preparing for the big day that was only a few weeks away. I'm not sure how it played out exactly, except that the tractor somehow tipped over and landed on top of his chest and suffocated him. He died before help arrived. I seem to remember someone saying that my mother was there watching him goof off, though they were divorced. She has mentioned that they used to have a beer together once in a while after they split.

Not the most ideal of relationships. Two young kids who fell in love, one was barely 17 and the other 14. Somehow in the messed up life of horny teenage misfits, the younger of the two, my mother, became pregnant with my oldest sister. The marriage arrangements were made swiftly as pops came from a devout pentecostal family and we couldn't have a little bastard running around. So there they were, baby on the way, barely old enough to have a driver's license, neither old enough to vote taking vows they knew nothing about. Talk about your bad decisions.

Not that my mother would change it all now. They went on to have 3 more children over the next 5 years. Shortly before I was born they split. The odds were stacked against them. Too young to know any damn better. My mom ended up giving me to her mother to raise when I was a baby and she kept my older siblings. What other choice did a single mother with 4 kids at 20 truly have. No education, no chance in the world really. Not with her baggage, something had to give and that was me. After Dad died a few years later it all just stayed that way and seemed normal. At least for a long time it did.

I don't regret growing up the way I did. But I do regret, for my father, that he chose to drive that tractor and just happen to up and die that day. I can't imagine if he had it to do over he would chose the same fate. I wonder what parts of me are him. I guess I know in my heart he's always watched over all of us, sharing in all our lives from a distance. I only wish I could have known him up close.

Reality is I don't know him and never will. Not a single memory except for a faint moment of him cold in his casket. Seems so freaking crazy when you really think about it. A memory of a corpse, but that is mine. Don't feel bad though, I don't have a recurring dream or any uncontrolable ticks because of it. Just a bit sad today as I quietly wished him a happy Father's Day.

Lucky for me I have had another chance to witness the bond between a father and his baby girl. So lucky, in fact, that I get to see it happen twice. Happy Father's Day to you too J. I am so grateful that you are my baby's daddy.

Shit

I'm tired. Just plain old dog tired and could most likely sleep 15 hours straight if I were in a cool dark room undisturbed. A couple of bong hits wouldn't hurt either. But that is neither here nor there.

I started caring for a new kid this week. A three year old boy that jumps off counters and spits carpet lengths, not long after he's beaten up every single monster imaginable and eaten 5 tuna fish sandwiches and a bag of chips. So if I seem a bit out of touch that could be the biggest reason. I have lots going on therefore lots to talk about, however, there isn't enough time in the day. Summer vacation is about to begin and in a couple of weeks I'll be going on a much needed and long overdue vacation to the county (northern Maine for those who are wondering where this county I speak of is). Two other valid reasons for my absense.

Eventually I'll get a handle on things and will be able to juggle a post here and there but for now any down time I have I'm in full rest mode....barely allowing breathing much less actual finger movement.

I am still reading when I get a moment, so please tell me stories. Give me a three minute escape if you can. I'm gonna need a place to chill whilst I'm knee deep in pb&j and worms.

The second half

You're 7 months old today E. I am in awe of you every day and can't believe we didn't do this sooner. Is there ever a right time to have a baby? I know people plan their children to a degree, but you're never fully prepared for what you're about to embark upon. A roller coaster ride for sure. Another life. Another human being in my world. Someone else to love and one to return that adoration.

So you and I broke the breastfeeding tie this month. You had what I believe now was a nursing strike, only in that strike you decided that you would drink formula. Surprising to me because you had never liked formula up to that point and I thought it was a shot in the dark trying it again. It was funny how you quickly changed your mind about what you wanted to be eating. You still like to cuddle and sometimes pretend you want to nurse again but you quickly lose interest and move on to your next thought. Since you seemed so happy with your new feeding schedule and set the pace all on your own I thought I would respect your wishes and not push the issue too much. It was truly heartbreaking early on but we quickly adjusted and I came to my senses and saw what a positive transition this was for us. No, it's not breast milk, but it's not poison either. And if you're happy, I'm happy.

You're growing. I can't believe the change that seems to have happened over night. I'm amazed everyday at how big you're getting. It's as if I've finally woken up from the 6 month daze I was in and noticed you, really noticed you and how big you had gotten without me even knowing it. You're sitting up on your own now, you're up on all fours rocking back and forth and getting braver by the hour. I know you will end up crawling this month, maybe even within the next week or so. The progress you're making is exciting and new to all of us here at the crazy house. Every day is a learning experience for you and you're enjoying every minute of your new found talents and soon your freedom.

Sleep is getting a little better. You're usually waking once to eat and early morning to get into bed with mom and dad. Dad also takes night duties every other night which is FABULOUS. I so needed to catch up on the sleep deprivation from the past year or so. It feels good to feel a little more like myself again. Our house is much cleaner since this new development too which is very refreshing. Exactly what have I been doing since last summer??

You're such a cuddler. I don't know how I got so lucky with you wanting to love on me so much. S was never like that, in fact, S was much the opposite. She and I never really had that kind of relationship, or at least not on the scale that you and I do. I thought our bond would change a lot once we stopped breastfeeding but that has not been the case, which I'm very happy about.

You have stolen your daddy's heart and he has fallen head over heals IN LOVE with YOU. It's adorable and I enjoy watching the bond between the love of my life and his daughters. If I did everything wrong in my life and had only one accomplishment worth speaking of it would be that I chose, hands down, the BEST father I could have ever wanted for my own children. I am very thankful for your daddy and all he does to make his girls happy. We'll have to think of something special to do for him coming up on Father's Day. He deserves it.

I can't imagine what the next 5 months are going to be like. Your changes are going to be endless I know and in such a short period of time. It won't be long and you'll be eating chocolate cake and wearing a party hat and chasing your sister around the kitchen. Wow, time flies when you're having fun. For now we're doing our best to enjoy the moments given to us each day.....and hoping we get a good picture out of it every once in a while.

I'm too sexy for my hair.

I am at a loss for words.....but I have pictures.

A fresh look

She finally went for the short look. It's fresh and light for summer. I really like how it opens up her face. I'd like to keep it this way for a while.

It's not really my choice anymore though.

A lot of people think that she looks like me. I can see the resemblance most every single day. Not only does her face validate shared genes, but the personality is near identical. On days it's like looking into a time machine; one that plays backwards.

Progress

I'm getting better. Energy is returning and I'm remembering what it was like before I was a) carrying a human in my uterus, or b) sustaining another human with my breast.

Holy.

There was a plethora of emotions coming to the surface as our ties were abruptly severed. A loss of our unique bond that confirmed I was hers and she mine was taking its toll on my heart.

Friday I accidentally got drunk. Oooops.

Saturday I felt guilty about getting drunk and was on the verge of tears or in tears nearly all day...and hung over.

Sunday was much the same sans hang over.

Monday. The sun came out. I began running around the house cleaning this and throwing away that. Granted it took me an entire day to clean the kitchen and dining room entirely, or almost entirely. I did not tackle the inside of cabinets, but I was busy working on drawers and floors, redoing the table. Things that had been put off for a loooong time.

It felt good. Light. A description I haven't been inclined to use in over a year.

I wrestle with the notion that Monday was a fluke. My clouds will return tomorrow. Or the next day. I am not out of the woods yet.

Today. My sun is still shining. I'm planting seeds, pulling a weed or two and watering flowers outside. Still purging clutter and freshening up my surroundings. Spending more time playing with the baby and enjoying the moments that come with that down time.

I'm wrestling with the notion that today is also a fluke. I'm skeptical, still believing that my clouds will reappear with great vengeance. I have been struggling in the heart of that deep dark forest praying someone would hear my desperate cries and save me from myself for what seems like months. Waking, eating, sleeping. Existing. Nothing more. Running out of steam as each day passes.

Am I approaching a change? Am I finally seeing a recovery of the mind, so to speak?

I hope so. I have felt the hovering darkness for far too long. It's time for the light to break through and bring me out of the shadows.

I can't even begin to share with you what a relief this is for me.

I am still sad about weaning and will miss our quiet times. But mama is ready for changes. Changes that come through the release of that tie.

I am slowly adapting to the idea of becoming me again. A new me, a me with two kids instead of one. But me none the less.

Hormones?

Dude, I feel like I'm losing my mind. Emotionally speaking I feel as though I just gave birth yesterday! What is up with the fluctuating moods?

Anyway, it feels good to cry a little bit.

Stupid period, stupid breastfeeding, stupid baby making business screws a girl up for sure.

On a lighter side....

I don't know why I didn't take that damn bink out of her mouth....but it just happened that way. Still a great picture of my two beautiful girls.

How am I supposed to feel?

Emily is weaning, not from "milk" entirely, just from me. She is now drinking formula and lots of it.

She's hit her 6th month spurt recently and I am having supply issues, have been for the last month or so. No matter the length of time nursing or the frequency, my ability to make extra is failing me. So, after a screaming fit at 11:00 pm the other night and my inability to calm her, I made a bottle. She drank 3 oz in 3 seconds flat and passed out. The next day I had J pick up a can of the same formula just for supplementing purposes. I wanted to see if this was a one time deal or am I going to be able to give her one of these regularly to give myself a break. Turns out she'd rather the bottle now. And I don't know how to feel about this.

She's still kinda nursing a bit, but not really. Not for lack of trying, though. Oh, I imagine I could just not make the bottles and let her be satisfied with my meager supply and listen to her wail all day long like I have been for the last month. Or I could just let it happen.

Why am I so ridiculously sad? Tears are welling in my eyes right now because I know in my heart that our nursing relationship is coming to an end. And so fast. A week ago I was in for the long ride, my new goal was 1 year. I felt like I had come a long way since my initial thinking of 3 months. Now all of the sudden she's setting the pace and I'm not ready for this. It's not supposed to happen yet.

Then again, I am ready. I am ready to allow her a tighter bond with her father. Our bond is cemented and now it's his turn to strengthen his while I sit back and watch her gain independence and expand her boundaries.

Pros of forcing the issue are the health benefits, obviously. All the information available on breastfeeding stresses 1 year, or more, if you can. The convenience of having her food always ready all the time is huge. I never need to carry anything but myself, a change of clothes and a diaper or two. That's it.

The pros of allowing this change is my own independence. A little bit of me can resurface. Maybe I can start to get more sleep. I'm to the point right now that I can't sleep when I am supposed to. I'm so tired at the end of the day but when I turn in for the night there is no sleep going on. I can't leave her for any length of time. Not that I'm ready to take off for the night but if I want to take S to check out the yard sales on Saturday morning and take her to lunch, I can do so without watching the clock. She could use a little more time with her mom and a little less I'm sorry, but your sister needs me home.

I can't help but feel such a strong emotional pull to continue nursing and get back on track. I am hesitant to let this time pass us by so quickly. I'm just sad, sad, sad.

I don't feel holding her back will work, so I am going to let her wean because I think she's ready and I think deep down so am I, at least on a physical level. She's happier, she's sleeping better and she'll still be healthy regardless of our breastfeeding status. But it's hard on poor mama. My eyelids are heavy from crying. Something I haven't been able to do in months. Not sure why I couldn't ever let the tears flow, I know on many occasion I sure needed a good bawl over the last 6 months, it just wouldn't ever come. Perhaps I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop once I got started, I don't know.

Anyway, that's the news here at the house of the crazy lady. I'm sure I'll get through this with my sanity still in tact. It's just hard saying goodbye. I was the only one available to provide her with such comfort and sustenance and now that time is coming to a close. It's just the beginning of the inevitable whirlwind...your children grow up in what seems like an instant. Before I know it she'll be walking and talking and this time will be a old, but precious memory. :-(

Crunchy Munchy!!

Summer is my favorite time of year for many reasons. New York, well The Finger Lakes, are home to numerous state parks loaded with spectacular hiking trails and waterfalls, which is partly the reason I agreed to move to this area. I'm a sucker for nature and this place seemed like New England's mecca of sorts. That and my husband's PhD. is coming from Cornell University. An offer that neither of us could afford to pass up.

All this aside, another reason I love summer is because of the growing season. There are a lot of farmer's markets around here where you can buy nutritious organic produce, but why buy when you can grow your own. And that is what we do. The first year we lived here (in our house, that is) we didn't have much to brag about other than a small patch of tomato plants. There wasn't any time to plant on a larger scale because our back yard was one giant overgrown mess and we didn't end up moving until July.

The second summer I had cleared much of the upper level of the back yard and we began digging the earth, preparing it for growing lots of yummy vegetables. I was pregnant last year though, so I wasn't of much help. Even still our garden was much better than the previous year except for the ground hog that ate our watermelon and pumpkin plants, broccoli, beans, beats, spinach...you get the idea. The only thing he truly left untouched was our tomato and green pepper. He didn't eat our strawberries either, but we have a dog that ate those. Go figure. This is what it looked like early on.

The bushes to the right of the garden are red currants and black raspberries. The dog liked those, too. We have blueberry bushes as well. Luckily those are not in the fenced in area....so we got to eat lots of blueberry pancakes and muffins.

So far we've he has turned the ground and seeded our cold weather crops.


This year we are taking a new approach. I don't want to capture the ground hog and move him from his home, I don't want to harm him in any way, we just want him to stay the hell away from our food. So....we are fencing the garden in this year. The hubby even worked his butt off digging a small trench around the garden to deter the wittle waskly gwound hog from digging this way into our oasis of fresh goodies. The hubby has also lengthened and widened the garden from last year. I want more stuff and he insists on growing corn. So...I insisted on more garden.

It's finally starting to take shape and evolve into the garden we want for the rest of our time here. Only two more summers and we'll be moving and hopefully starting this process all over again. The people who buy our house when the time comes will probably hate gardens and throw grass seed down. Oh wouldn't that just be the way the story goes. Anyhow...this is the garden so far. I'll put more pictures up when things start to grow...and I'll throw in a few of the flowers I'll be planting around the yard, too.

For good measure....one more of the garden...with a cute little baby in the middle.

Mile Marker

I've been breastfeeding you 6 months now. That means you're 6 months old. Oh, where has the time gone, little one. Really? In the midst of all the sleepless, never ending nights you have turned into this little baby. No longer an infant, but a sweet little baby that interacts and takes in the world with enthusiasm and wonder.

Boy do you love your mama. When you're lonely you want me, when you're tired you want me, when you're sick you want me, when you're happy you want me. You just want me all the time. Our bond with one another is very strong and I truly believe that breastfeeding has played a major role in that. I hadn't the slightest notion that I would nurse you the entire first year of your life and now that you're half way there it just seems like the natural thing to do. To be honest, I can't really see us doing anything else and feel a bit sorrowful when I think of the inevitable weaning.

Lately, with gentle coaxing, you have started to acknowledge other people in your tiny circle. Daddy is no longer just part of the decor, you are finally showering him with smiles and attention. It's nice seeing your bond with him mature into something special. It's your daddy that's going to be your everything in the coming years. He's the one who will be getting out the Easy Bake on a Saturday morning while mama sleeps in. He's the one who will be giving you piggy back rides and endless horsey rides. He's the one who will protect you, provide for you and love you with every single fiber of his being. Mama will be there, too. I'll be loving, protecting and providing but it will be much different for you and your adoring father. And I'm grateful for that relationship and feel lucky that I get to watch that take shape and blossom into something beautiful.

You're an active baby, constantly bouncing, grabbing, pulling and touching everything within reach. I'm cherishing the days of keeping you contained because once you're mobile there will be no stopping you.

You love to eat. When it comes to food you mean business. Whether it be breast feeding, snacking on a cracker, or eating one of your meals you always do it with vigor. It's fascinating to watch you enjoy all the new flavors. You like everything and are always eager to try new things.

Intense would be a good description for you, little one. Everything you do is whole hearted, be it laughing or crying, you give it your all. I love your determination and think of you as an all or nothing kind of kid. We'll work on the all being your best qualities later, hopefully.

Sleep? Who needs sleep. Certainly not you. I think once you woke up out of your month long newborn slumber and saw that there was more than amniotic fluid and umbilical cords to look at you decided you're eyes were better off open. I am all day putting you down for cat naps because you sleep so lightly and for such short periods of time. You still aren't really that close to sleeping through the night yet, but you do go to bed easily for me. You just like to wake up and you'd prefer if I just let you sleep with me and nurse any old time you wanted to. I do love having you close to me but I'm not much of a co-sleeper long-term, so I'm trying to keep you from getting to used to sleeping next to mama.

You have shown me just how much love can grow. Life just seems fuller with you around, not just for me, but for all of us, including your big sister. She has told me more than once how much she loves you and is quick to protect you, even from me if she deems necessary. It's really quite endearing. I love that you have such a great kid for a big sister and role model. Hopefully you two will be there for one another as my sisters are for me.

I hope the next 6 months are as fun and eventful as the last have been. Something tells me life with you will never be boring my sweet little girl. We love you.

Can't win them all.

Last night's contest was phenomenal. There was a full house with forty singers in all and over three hundred fans cheering them on.

I didn't place last night like I did last year but I did well. The competition was fierce. The winner was an outstanding vocalist and he was not far ahead of the remaining four contestants who took prizes home, two of which placed 1st and 2nd last year. I certainly didn't envy the full plate the judges had deciding which were the best.

All in all it was a great contest. I am really lucky to have participated and plan on entering again next year. Who knows....maybe it will be my lucky year. Either way I know I'll have a great time and see some excellent talent showcased. Who knew karaoke could be so entertaining.

Tonight?

I will be a rock star. Whether I win or lose, I'm still going to kick some major buttarooni and not even feel sorry about it. But if I do win there is $500 in it for me. How cool is that?

Who would of thought my tiny little place of residence would have such a grandiose karaoke following. Seriously.....they have an msn group they love it so much. They post pictures from different contests and keep a karaoke kalendar (yes, they spell calendar with a k) with a list of venues around the area. Yes, there are karaoke venues it's so popular around here. There are some serious karaoke fans around these parts and they ain't playin' round either.

Tonight, song choice is everything. I can kick butt all night long but if my song choice is less than desirable I've gone and lost the whole gig. I'm starting off with a number by Martina McBride, When God Fearing Women Get the Blues...only I have changed it to SAHM's getting the blues. Not really, but I think that would be funny. After I was done I could squirt the crowd with breast milk. No? You don't think? Hmmmm....well there goes that plan.

I practiced last night. It sounded great in spite of the nasty cold I've been pampering all week long. Today my chest congestion is loosening up and my voice is feeling less strained. Yay for me!

So wish me luck, break a leg, whatever you're feeling. I am working on owning that shit because anyone that knows me will attest to my outlandish personality, until you stick me in a room full of people watching only me. I tend to freeze up unless I'm drunk, but that wouldn't work because I actually have to sing without falling off the stage (which has happened to some people who can't monitor their intake before they sing the second song. No, it wasn't me.). Anyway. For lack of a better phrase.....tonight...I'm gettin' er' done.....county style bitches.

Note to self.

Never, under any circumstances, do you up and quit your morning coffee to "boost your immune system". Duh.

Feeling healthier....no? What? You have a throbbing head ache? Wonder why moron.

In attempts to thwart off a lingering cold I gave up caffeine. For one day. And today, whilst my head splits in two, I am returning a broken woman. Powerless to the drug that captivates my soul.

Even the baby was having withdrawals.

May the Lord have mercy on my evil, black heart.

UGH!

Today was just one of those days. You know, the kind of day that makes you want to go back to bed all day long. I am draggin' ass BIG TIME. Could be the spring cold that has cycled back to me for the second time. Could be that I am feelin' a bit of post partum frump. Could be that I'm living in a place that is a.) waaaaay to far away from the people I hold close to my heart, and b.) this place is waaaay to far away from where I want to be living. Either one is reason enough to count the days until we leave this place.

Sure, this is just a cobble stone in our meandering path of life, but honestly, could this stone be any bigger? Sheesh. Enough already. I truly hope the husband appreciates the fact that I gave up my job and cozy life within safe driving distances from family and life long friends to support his career and his goals in life. I am all for supporting his aspirations but the sacrifice, to me, has been daunting at times. And even though I share the same dream, I can't help but be a little resentful while he's working towards a great accomplishment and I am at home changing shitty diapers and getting puked on. Someone please tell me, just where's the glory in that?

I know in the end, I am the lucky one. A career will last, and last, and last, and last until you're ready for it to be over, and then some. But your children? Well, they have a funny way of growing up and leaving you to fend for yourself. Every minute that passes is one less minute we have them in the safe clutches of our home. When you count the days you spend raising your children it's a very small amount of time compared to your life as a whole. I know how fast my childhood passed me by, I can only imagine that of your children, when time has a funny way of rushing along just a wee bit faster than the days of my youth.

I took a left turn somewhere in this post and am not quite sure how I got here, but either way, the babbling and run on sentences help me shrug it off another day. Thanks blogspot, for giving me my place to vent, my piece of the web space pie to call all my own. That way, when I'm having one of those days, I can come on here and get lost in it all and somehow find my way to the other side.

Ugly.

Unimaginable. Putrid. Horrific. Frightening.

Sad.

When does rage become so unbearably strong, hatred so dark, loneliness so deep and hallow that you could calculatingly take the lives of other innocent people?

I will never understand one's ability to take human life. I will never be able to grasp the desperation one must feel in order to justify that kind of action.

I can not put into words the needless pain fellow students/faculty must feel since Monday's
Massacre. I just cannot wrap my head around the aching sadness the victim's families are experiencing during this time. I am left speechless, incapable of justly describing the heartache invoked by this inconceivable tragedy. But I couldn't just say nothing.

My heart bleeds for everyone affected by this heinous crime, including the disturbed young man who committed these horrific acts. The disbelief his parents must feel, the guilt they must shoulder knowing it was their son who stole precious life from so many undeserving people.

I pray for you all. I pray that peace comes into your life, that you are able to rise above the ugliness that was Monday, April 16, 2007. That with time, your heart will allow healing. That your memories live on forever. That love and compassion prevail. May God be with each and every one of you during this dark and trying hour.

Spring?

A myth no longer....


reassurance came, informing me nature was taking it's first breathe of the season...


...afternoon walks were possible. Smiles were taking form on my otherwise glum face and the children were once again able to play outside without mittens and snow pants.
















Then one gloomy morning...


are you kidding me?


nope, not kidding.


Wwaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!! Please make it go away....


Monday morning, the supposed return of school after April vacation...


kids are home, the power is out. There's talk it will return at 4 pm. Thanks, hon, for calling the electric company and giving me such positive news, 4 pm you say? How great. Thanks, I needed to hear that as much as I needed to get a pimple on my ass. Thanks for thinking of me. Have fun at work. Enjoy your hot coffee and warm muffins. Oh, don't worry, we're all fine here. Our snow suits haven't been packed away yet and the baby likes frozen turkey noodle. Loves it even.

Mid morning crazies have set in. Arrests have been made...


the baby has joined a new gang...


she's quite ambitious, by noon she was head honcho...


But we're all handling it well and dreaming of better days...

And I'm pretty sure The Cat in the Hat made bail.

Nothing inspiring going on here...

Just one sick baby and one sick mama trying to low crawl her way through the endless nights and arduous days without losing her sleep deprived mind. I want to cry but I don't have it in me. I'm not kidding. There just aren't any tears to shed because my body is otherwise occupied making other bodily fluids that keep the wee one alive. I'm tapped out.

I'm not going to sleep this year, am I? Just tell me the truth already. I did this once before and don't remember it being this difficult. Why do we suffer memory loss from that first year? Oh, right, to continue the species. I would not be doing this otherwise had I remembered. Or maybe I would have but I would have slept more that year before my pregnancy. And felt less guilty about getting drunk.

I feel so bad for the babe. She's miserable. I can only imagine what it's like for little people. She only has to see me from across the room to feel separation anxiety. Being held by daddy is doing nothing for her. She spots me and it's over. I thought she was going to hyperventilate at 4:30 this morning when I briefly passed her over to him before I literally melted. She just can't handle the two feet between us.

I wish I had more motherliness in me when my baby is sick. On one hand I'm 100% there and on the other...well, not so much. I'm just tired. Did I mention how tired I am? How I haven't slept a straight 5 hour stretch in a very long time? My child is nearing the 6th month mark. Shouldn't I be getting more sleep now?

Okay, I won't bore you any longer with the public pity party I'm having for myself. Babies are cute and mine is one of the cutest in the world......so I'll shut up now.

We should write a book.

On parenting. That is what S's teacher said at her conference with my husband this morning. I'm so proud of her. Knowing your child is smart, helpful, organized, attentive and a role model for other students to emulate is like winning the lottery. I can't even begin to put into words how happy I am with her.

I know we got lucky in many ways. My daughter is who she is just because, but as her parents we do get to take a little credit. I love who she is blossoming into. Her ability to empathize and show kindness to others, but most of all her genuine humility and giant heart bring me to my knees with respect and admiration.

I've said more than once that I see myself in this child. Sure, there's no mistaking she belongs to me, anyone can take one sideways glance at her and pick me out of a large crowd as her mother. It's her likeness inside that has surprised me. How closely she resembles a younger version of myself that renders me speechless daily. And I don't mean that I am/was all those things I just described, I just mean that our personalities are nearly one in the same. I'm wierd, she's wierd, I'm shy, she's shy sort of thing.

I smile inside and am grateful that with her I can make a difference. She is nurtured and deeply loved. Her father hangs on her every word and her mother is always available. She is encouraged and stimulated as an individual. We have gently prodded the insecurity in her and turned it into quiet confidence. She believes in herself and her abilities but isn't too flashy about it.

For instance.

She hugged a boy in school one day, a boy that has behavioral issues. Why? Because he got a gold star two days in a row and she was so proud of him. She told me because she almost kissed him on the cheek by accident and wanted to make sure I knew that she didn't kiss him, only hugged.

She encouraged and praised another kid for a reward that she didn't need or want to receive. For a seven year old kid in this day and age, I think that is amazing.

I won't lie, she has her days. She's not always a shining example. Trust me. But I love, love, love who she is when I'm not looking.

Am I a good mother? Sure, I think so. But she's a good kid, this I know for sure.