Man, I feel like a woman.

Awwwww Yeah!! I've been fighting the inevitable wean with Abby but slowly starting to come to terms with the limits my body has given me. Apparently, the return of my menses has given my body much to contemplate. She doesn't want conflicting hormones doing the tango week to week and just seized up the old milk supply.

I was devastated.

Now I'm fine.

We're still kinda sorta nursing at night because I'm very lazy at 2 am and she doesn't care. She wants her mother and the physical comfort nursing gives her at night. So technically, we're still nursing. I'm okay with that. The same thing happened with Emily except she just up and quit cold turkey and I was in tears for a week.

Until I took my stash out of the freezer. Then I was listening to the Dead and sneaking out into the garage at night. Miraculously, I was fine after that.

With the dreaded return of aforementioned women's issue, I suddenly feel like I have wings again. I'm ready to swing from the chandelier and get a little jiggy with it.

Jamie say's you can't take a guy out of the desert and give him a gallon of water. WhaaaaaaaT?

I told him he needs to strike while the iron is hot. Lucky for him, he did.

I know that's a little TMI but after two back to back pregnancies I'm pretty stoked to find small parts of myself returning. Abby is still just 6 months and there's a LONG way to go still. But it's looking up and I couldn't be happier.

The best part bar none? I CANNOT GET PREGNANT AGAIN (right Dr. Herzlbetz? RIGHT DR. HERZLBETZ!)!!! Now I only have to read about OTHER people being preggo and shout GLAD THAT'S NOT ME!!

.

Thank You, Mr. President!

For just being you.



YOU FOOL ME!! WE CAN'T GET FOOLED AGAIN!

Bwahahahahahaha!! Oh MAN!! I love this shit.

Something you didn't know maybe?

I am a Pisces. Pisces is a water sign. And these???



My children's initials. In that order.

The stars sent them to me.

Who wants to see kids?

Only memories remain.

My mom moved out of the trailer I grew up in and into an elderly "community". It's an apartment building for low income elderly and handicapped. Her sister lives in the same building which will make their Skip-Bo and Yahtzee playing all the more accessible.

It is a good thing for her. Rising fuel costs make it next to impossible for her to live off her social security and disability. Plus she won't be alone all the time. I'm grateful that her life will have more in it. Even if I'm not part of that physically.

I miss her so much sometimes. I don't talk about it or let myself go there because it causes me a lot of sadness. It's different when you're raised by your grandmother. I miss the mother she is, I miss the mother I wanted her to be and I miss the mother I need in my life right now. She's a good person and a good mother given her up-bringing and her own relationship with her mother. Tough, strong women. Life experiences have added to that shell. The softness and understanding that I needed as a child and the friend I need as a woman are there but our age differences have kept me from experiencing it firsthand. At least not in the way I would have chosen. But we don't get to choose. We just get to love.

This is the next step in her life. It's her right to move on and let age take it's course. But it hurts a little to see the changes. It sucks to be so far away. I'm not able to identify a new home with her or find where I fit in. It's unnatural to watch your mother slip away from old age when you're just barely coming into your own.

Eventually I will accept that my kids will not go to grandma's house for Thanksgiving or help her make donuts at the kitchen table. They won't spend the night or eat one of her popcorn balls. All that's left of that home are memories. I'll just have to share those instead.

There are no words.

I'm not talking about the election, though a momentous occasion for us all to witness, it's not where words escape me. I've got lots to say about how proud I am that we let our voices be heard, just not today.

Today I'm talking about Emily. My baby girl, born just two years ago this week. I intended on a nice long letter proclaiming my adoration for this child. But there are no words.

I'm incapable of penning just how big my heart has become since she entered my life. How incredibly big it has to be because sometimes it's just.so.hard. being her mother. How it's bursting at the seems because of her precious dimple and naughty little grin. And how it's overflowing with gratefulness that I get to witness this child's life blossom.


I love her. So much so that it hurts sometimes and not even because she's kicking me in the shin. It's like a tender ache that never really goes away. I love her when she hurts me, I love her when she pleases me and I love, love, love her when she's being her whimsical, vibrant self. She never ceases to amaze me at every corner.

She came out screaming and has since continued. She has a lot to say. A lot of passion. A lot of thoughts and needs she wants to express. It is at the top of her lungs that she informs you she's happy, or mad, or sad. It's all announced at a ten. Never a two, or even half way at five. It's *always* ten. And I couldn't be any happier or more exasperated at the same time to experience this tiny child proclaiming herself to the world with such intensity.

She is going places, that one. And if you're lucky, she just might take you with her.