Pendulum

The thing that surprised me the most about parenting, that continues to surprise me on an almost daily basis, is the wild arc of emotions which kids can unleash within an otherwise patient, rational person.
In the car or on a playground, I feel an intense, borderline-paranoid fear that my children will somehow meet danger. I check on them in their sleep, laying my hand on their chests to feel that they are indeed still rising and falling reliably. Yet other times, laying around the house in the evening, wanting to read my book and eat my cookie, or watch The Office and eat my cookie, or even to sit zombie-like and EAT MY COOKIE, I feel frustration that my children's safety requires my constant vigilance. There's Eli, pulling a blanket over his head. There's Addy, careening around the house, narrowly missing sharp edges of furniture at every turn. Can't they just lie still and not need protection from themselves EVERY second? I think.
There is the wonder I feel at my luckiness in having them at all, after reading countless stories of people losing babies and trying so hard to have babies, of having had some small experience with miscarriage and fertility drugs myself, even. I lean down to kiss one of their little blond heads and am overwhelmed by the animal love that the smell of them brings. But then, sometimes within moments of that love-rush, there will follow a feeling of restlessness and resentment at the caged-in monotony that life will small children inevitably brings. And we even get out quite a bit, I would say, compared to lots of parents. We are lucky enough to live around family, and to have a reliable and trustworthy babysitter. It is hardly dire, our situation. But I stiff chafe at its confines, sometimes. Times when the reclusive winter sun is shining and I want to just go, but one baby is sleeping and another has just pooped and I myself still haven't even brushed my hair, and the whole process of going just seems overwhelming and not worth it.
Most of all, there is the surprise of realizing how much anger you can feel at a child, even while awash in the baby-love. Flashes of anger, which are immediately followed by guilt and self-chastisement, of course, but anger nonetheless. When you have done literally everything you can think of, yet for days on end, your baby is fussing and yelling the majority of his waking hours. Those waking hours run through the night, as he gets up sometimes three times to nurse, while still refusing more than a taste of solid food during the day. You begin to take it personally, to think defensively, "Wait, I've DONE my job here, kid. Yours is to sleep and eat and play, not to scream at me furiously all day as though there is something I am not providing."
The guilt about the anger is of course followed by self-doubt about your fitness to be a parent in general, about the wiseness of embarking on this whole scary, IRREVERSIBLE journey of parenting, and feelings of profound pity for your poor, poor children, suffering your incompetence and your frayed nerves.
Then you delve into the Easter basket stash for that lovely legal drug, refined sugar, and the kids do, finally, fall asleep, and everything seems fine and manageable again. But you wonder, how can your baby be six months old already and you are still finding yourself sometimes feeling like you did when you first brought him home from the hospital? How can you still be floundering?

Gimme Five

Okay, this is an unapologetically lazy post, because I am rushed due to having had to read all of YOUR blogs with a baby in my lap and therefore having to comment one handed. Which is tedious and slow and leaves me with approx. zero minutes to write my own post. Darn babies, always interfering with the important stuff.
So I'm pretty sure somebody tagged me for a Five Things meme, yes? Shelly? (No, I will not link. Refer to above paragraph.) She used a theme, so I'm attempting to follow suit.

Five Things About Me, The Last Time I... Edition

1. The last time I cooked an actual dinner was probably over a week ago. I'm really not sure what happened in the time between then and now. A lot of pizza, is what I'm thinking.

2. The last time I shaved my legs was two days ago. That's respectable, right?

3. The last time I cleaned out my car (beyond dumping the accumulated trash) was right before Eli was born. There is also a ginormous spray of mud up one of the sides because I drove into my in-laws' yard accidentally. Suffice it to say I mentally cringe every single time I get in the car. I was raised by a dad who FREAKED if you so much as fingerprinted the GLASS, you guys. I actually take car cleanliness pretty seriously, though you would never know it from the STATE of my vehicle. Its filthiness weighs on my conscience.

4. The last time I ironed anything was at LEAST three months ago. Probably a lot more. Our ironing board is basically a decorative prop strategically placed in the laundry room to make it APPEAR like normal, shirt-ironing type people live here.

5. The last time I flossed was... Never. I mean, I seriously could count on one hand the number of times I've done this. I've only had one cavity and always get congratulated by the dentist on the state of my teeth, btw, so don't give me that "you disgusting, rotten-toothed person" look. My teeth are SERIOUSLY close together, though. Before I got braces I had to have four teeth pulled just to make room in my mouth for the others to be straightened. It's CROWDED in there, is what I'm saying. Flossing, beyond being a general pain, is a LITERAL pain for me. I have to forcefully saw through my teeth, inevitably stabbing my gums with the wire, to achieve anything like flossing, and it ends with a mouth full of blood. Not worth it, my friends, not worth it.

And thus ends yet another eye-opening look into my life! Happy weekend, everyone. Everyone who doesn't live around here and isn't facing another ten inches of snow, that is.

Movie Reviews

Firstly. The Other Boleyn Girl. Soap opera-ish? Check. A wee bit campy? Check. A one-dimensional character for Scarlett Johansson and an overly hysterical one for Natalie Portman? Check and check. Not nearly as engrossing as the book itself? Check. A very rushed timeline which squeezes the events of ten-plus years into a little under two hours? Check. A director who seemed PHYSICALLY UNABLE to segue from one scene to the next without placing a camera behind lattice work or a pillar or a tapestry, as though there were an Unseen Presence watching the movie with us the entire time? BIG CHECK.
And yet I loved it. And yet I will undoubtedly buy it and watch it and stroke its glossy case like one of the doomed puppies in Of Mice And Men. Because despite its drawbacks, which I was warned of ahead of time by reading other reviews, it still had all that I require for a satisfying movie experience. Exciting yet not quite porn-like sex scenes? Check. Lots of shots of various European castle-y structures with elaborately costumed actors frolicking about in them? Check. Much intrigue and romance and frantic horseback riding to and fro? Check. Lots of pregnancies and having of babies? Big fat CHECK. And we have a winner, folks!

Now, on to another recently viewed film, Silk. This movie, to quote Linda's husband, was a hell of a way to spend a Saturday night. It has Keira Knightley, who usually chooses decent films. It has elaborate costumes and is set in France in the vague "olden times" period of which I am so fond. It seemed set up to win with me. Yet how it disappointed. Minutes and minutes of drawn out travel scenes in which NOTHING happens and NO ONE speaks. A romance for which a man risks his nearly perfect marriage, a romance which is based only on EYE CONTACT and in which the two star-crossed lovers have never even SPOKEN. Love letters full of cringingly awful "erotic" prose. A forlorn Keira Knightley wasting away tragically, fainting in gardens, and being "aged" by apparently having someone liberally streak her hair with baby powder.

Check back next time for another exciting installation of "At The Movies With Semi-Desperate!"

Because I Know You Love The Randomosity Of My Posts

-Grocery shopping on a Saturday afternoon is enough to make you hate humanity and want to move to a commune and grow your own food so you're never again at the mercy of The Man (aka Meijer.)

-Cleaning like crazy for two days to have an open house to which NO ONE shows up is enough to make you hate the whole process so much you want to stay in your current home until you die.

-Getting your hair trimmed by the only person in town who knows how to cut it so you actually feel hot is FLIPPIN' SWEET. Sweetness is only slightly tempered by the tiny hairs stuck all over your face and neck for the rest of the day.

-Having to drive an hour away to see The Other Boleyn Girl really burns my biscuits.

-But being able to finally go see The Other Boleyn Girl (and with cute hair no less!!!) is making me irrationally excited. I'm doing little countdowns in my head (less than ONE HOUR until we leave!) as though it were some sort of vacation to the Bahamas instead of a trip to the Cineplex. Clearly I need to get out more.

-BUT. Getting my hair cut and going to a movie all in one day is getting out QUITE a LOT for a stay at home mom of two little kids, no? Look at me, all Angelina Jolie! I can be a doting mom AND a jet-setting humanitarian/actress! (Guess which celeb I was reading about while my hair was drying?)

Soy Free

I have a little mission for you, should you happen to know anything about soy-free cooking. My friend Jess (the one who gave birth to her son a day before I had Eli) has recently found out she is allergic to soy. She has been having health problems for quite a while, and while she is happy to have hopefully discovered the root of them, giving up soy is apparently a very big deal. I hadn't realized it until I started checking labels, but soy- or more specifically, soy lecithin- is in EVERYTHING. Jess can basically only eat rice and vegetables right now, because she is a vegetarian, and dairy sometimes causes her problems as well.
So here's what I'm wondering: any of you know any great soy-free products she could order online? We have very limited resources around here. Not even a Whole Foods, if you can believe. Or maybe you know some yummy recipes for cakes, cookies, or breads without soy? She has a sweet tooth almost as bad as mine, which means we both echo Swistle's sentiment: I almost feel like I cannot be happy if I don't have sweet things to nibble on. You can imagine how bleak this would be, to be facing a LIFE without normal candy or ice cream or birthday cake.
Recipes, please!

The Morning After

To: Large dog who appears to think he was put on this earth to whine.
Re: Ya'll gon' make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here. Ya'll gon' make me act the fool, up in here, up in here.

It doesn't bode well for your day when DMX lyrics say it best.

Moving on! Jim and I had our first session with a personal trainer last night (we're actually getting a group rate because we're working out with two other couples, which is even more motivation to push through the pain. Everyone is watching! Must not collapse on the floor and cry!) Man, am I out of shape. I've been doing aerobics for a few months now, but let me just say that Zumba seems like a brisk walk compared to last night's torture. My muscles are so sore I was afraid I wouldn't even be able to lift Eli today.
My lower abs in particular are shockingly weak, even though just to look at it my stomach seems mostly flat again. I had no idea how much two pregnancies take out of you in terms of muscle tone. It was really embarrassing. There were a couple of exercises that I literally couldn't do because I didn't have enough strength in my lower abdominals to keep my back on the floor. The trainer assures me in a few weeks I'll be surprised at my progress. I'll be surprised if in a few weeks he's still alive. Sometimes the only way I could make it through a whole minute of whatever circuit station I was on was by thinking, F you, Dennis, F you. Except the word was longer than f.
Also, it's kind of weird to work out strenuously with people you know well. There you are, sweating like a pig, feeling sick to your stomach, and making noises like you should be in a delivery room, all in front of people you otherwise mostly just watch movies and have dinner with.

In other late-breaking news, you all DO know which movie comes out tonight, right? RIGHT?! I have actually convinced Jim to go see it with me, even though I also have plans to see it later with some girlfriends. Because they can't go to it tonight with me, and after waiting four months, I am INCAPABLE of waiting even a FEW MORE DAYS.
Oh, you don't know which movie I'm talking about? Skimmer. But I'll tell you. TOMORROW, when I review it extensively! You'll just have to wait!

And also, because apparently I have abandoned completely the idea of continuity in writing, here is a link to an article about women in the workplace during WWII that I thought was hilarious. And is genuine, according to Snopes. I'm betting that in the back of their minds, a lot of male bosses still adhere to some of these rules. Do any of these ring true to those of you working outside the home?

Edit edit URGENT EDIT: GAAAAAAA! My movie- fine, it's The Other Boleyn Girl, and yes, it's MY movie, as in, I HAVE RIGHTS TO SEE IT IMMEDIATELY- isn't showing in this town OR the one closest to it. I'm sorry, I wasn't aware this was some sort of FOREIGN film with SUBTITLES and ANGST and VAGUE PLOT LINES. I'm pretty sure this is a regular old Sony Pictures release full of partial nudity and elaborate costumes! What the frickity frick, people? Ya'll gon' make me LOSE MY MIND!

Good/Bad, Part Deux

What is lovely: The snow outside, sparkling in the bright, bright winter sun.
What is not: The bitter, biting cold, which feels like a betrayal every time you step out the door. It looks so PRETTY though! you want to say. Why are the hairs in my nostrils freezing?

What is lovely: Having family pictures taken for the first time since the newest addition was born.
What is not: Having to wait a half hour because there is only one person working at the portrait studio. There was only one other customer, and she was wrapping things up, so this shouldn't have been a problem. Except that she happened to be the Most Infuriating Fellow Customer Ever, and was standing at the monitor examining twenty-four gajillion different poses of her "little guy" in seventy-bajillion different outfits and backgrounds and was literally losing her MIND trying to decide what she wanted to purchase. "I just don't know," she mused about thirty nine times, shifting her son back and forth from hip to hip. "I love the naked one on the blanket, but the naked one in the bathtub is great too..." I was THIS close to screaming, "It's all the same face! It's just that ONE kid in all of those pictures. How different can they really be? For the love of ALL THAT IS GOOD just pick one!"

What is lovely: Having had a good- or at least not BAD- showing.
What is not: Having an open house scheduled for this weekend, meaning not only did I have to clean the entire house Tuesday, but I have to KEEP it clean until Sunday afternoon.

What is lovely: Having food to eat, not worrying about starving, etc. (I was kind of reaching on this one.)
What is not: Quaker's Weight Control oatmeal. It tastes like rubber cement.

Thus ends yet another thrilling installation in my current series of Boring Topic-less Posts!

Shoes and Showings

Well, my mom and I took the kids shopping for Easter outfits Monday night, and Swistle, you'd have been proud. Not of what we bought the kids- I couldn't find anything I liked for Eli. For Addy we did find a beautiful dress, but it was neither on sale nor could I find a picture of it online to show it off. So, still fun, but not impressive.
No, what I was proud of was the stuff I found for ME! I got three pairs of shoes for twenty bucks! That's for ALL of them. Hello, giant end-of-season clearance sales! I couldn't find exact pictures of any of those, either, despite extensive (ten minutes) research, but here is a picture of approximately what one of the pairs of shoes looks like. They are Keds, but they're not slip-ons, they're skimmers. And there's a blue stripe on the side. The other pairs are more dressy- one pair has about a two inch heel and is kind of a coppery brown with a thin buckle strap and a round toe. The other are just sensible, brown leather, square-toed slip-ons with about an inch heel. Not thrilling, those, but infinitely practical for me. I am not a tennis shoes for everyday kind of person. I prefer having my hands free at all times, so neutral looking shoes that I can just shove my feet into while holding baby/purse/mug of coffee the size of my head are a staple for me, and I am constantly wearing out my current ones and scouting for replacements.
Wow, this little shopping run down is way more boring than I anticipated without visual aids... I'll try again to find pictures to post, but I am too lazy to go take pictures and post them myself, so if I can't find them, you're up a creek, folks.
In other, arguably more exciting news, our house showing went really well yesterday! The realtor said the couple told him that so far in their search it was "between our house and one other one." The woman likes the updates (new flooring, remodeled bath and kitchen, fresh paint) in our house, plus the yard and location are better, but the man likes the floor plan of the other house. And it has amenities such as two bathrooms and a two car garage which ours is sadly lacking.
I am SO hoping that the ideal location of our home (less than five minutes away from the kindergarten, elementary, middle and high schools of the best school district in the area) will win out over the double sinks and central air of the rival home. Also, the realtor mentioned that they have a toddler and that the woman is pregnant, which made me immediately want THEM to have the house. It would be like replacing us with... Us! I want there to still be little kids in this house. Weird, huh?
You know what else is weird? Having strangers go through your home and TOUCH stuff. I mean, open closets, examine kitchen cabinets and look at the cleanliness of the shower all you want, but when I can tell that you have been picking up and examining our FAMILY PHOTOS? That's a little creepy. But whatever. I love you! Please buy our house!

Flesh Pacifier

This is apparently the new function of my face in general and my chin in particular. See, when he's upset (which is ALWAYS,) I hold Eli to my shoulder and pat his back. Usually he settles down, sucks his thumb, and falls asleep. But lately, rather than sucking his thumb, he has been wrenching his face around, LATCHING ON to any bit of my face he can get in his mouth, and sucking voraciously. I have mini hickeys all over the lower portion of my face, and it's getting somewhat painful as well, the UNLATCHING him part. I just... I have no more words on this subject.
Which is lucky, because our house is being shown tomorrow at four and I have to clean like mad now, not ramble on about my piranha son's desire to suck the flesh off my bones.

P.S. Spellcheck, I knew you'd come crawling back eventually. You thought you could do better...

Public Humiliation, Part Infinity

So, you may be wondering, what could be worse than getting called to the front of the class during aerobics? How 'bout finding out at a nice church lady function that some people from your past, with whom you have kind of an iffy relationship due to some mutual acquaintances with whom you have a BAD relationship, have been WATCHING YOU do your dance aerobics from the track above the gym? Stellar.
Also fun: stuffing yourself into a push up bra immediately following nursing, then realizing, a few hours and a few ounces of milk build up later, that your NIPPLES HAVE BURST OUT OF THE BRA and are going berserk under your WHITE SWEATER. AT THE NICE CHURCH LADY FUNCTION.

You people probably think I make this crap up for your benefit, but you would be wrong. I'm just THAT lucky.

Would You Rather...

...Do without toothpaste or shampoo?
This is going to be a FUN post today, yes sir. Further ridiculous poll taking, because I am tired and for various reasons overwhelmed, despite the fact that Eli SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT. He did wake up once and stir and snuffle around quite loudly, causing me to hunch over the baby monitor and WILL him back to sleep, but he never actually fully achieved consciousness in order to demand food.
So there is that cause for celebration. And apparently around here we celebrate by not showering and eating frozen corn dogs for lunch.

Ahem! On to the good stuff. (Yes, I know, I'm playing it loose and fast with the term "good.") Would you rather:
-Refer to first sentence.
-Have a maid, a cook, or (if applicable) a nanny?
-Have a hairstylist or a makeup artist?

AND WHY.

Lordy, I'm sorry. Just pretend you never read this and click on out if you must. I won't hold it against you. I'm going to try to sleep now. Or shower. Or eat something not from a Schwann's box.

Exercise! It Appears To Burn Calories!

Well, I'll be darned if I didn't fit back into two pairs of pre-baby pants I had nearly given up on. Then I got on the scale for the first time in three months, held my breath and hoped for a miracle- and there was no miracle. I am still overweight. But only ten pounds over my weight when I got pregnant, and the last time I braved the scale it was closer to twenty pounds over. (I excitedly reported my findings to Jim, adding, "Plus it's the nighttime, so I'm REALLY probably a few pounds less. Plus I'm breastfeeding, so probably five of those extra pounds are in my BOOBS! Plus last week I ate an entire box of chocolates, so if you factor those out..." "I know!" he agreed supportively. "Really you're probably only about a hundred and twenty pounds!" In case it's not clear, this was a joke. I would have to lose a lot more than water weight to be a hundred and twenty pounds. Like a thigh.)
So yeah... Much to my shock, working out, even just a few times a week, appears to be causing WEIGHT LOSS and a THINNER WAISTLINE. Who knew?
It also caused profound humiliation last night. See, I am a firm Back Rower. I stand in the center of the row so I can still see the instructor just fine (at least until Freakishly Tall Rubber Band Girl gets in my line of sight) but I in no way am eager to call attention to myself. I just want to get in there, work up a sweat, and get out. No forging of friendships or getting suckered into helping lead one of the routines.
But last night, on our very last routine, I realized that the sharp eyes of the instructor were meeting mine. "You. Green shirt! Come up here and show them!" she yelled, when her subtle eye contact and gestures had been ignored. I slunk through the rows of people, waiting for the familiar Nervous Tummmy and red face. Amazingly, they never came. I stood on the raised platform, helped demonstrate a not very difficult move which I was apparently doing correctly, and then finished the rest of the cool down ON THE STAGE. Without even blushing.
I know, go me, right? Now do you want to hear what the move was? It was LEANING, people. Keep your feet together, flat on the floor, and just lean as far as possible to one side and then the other. I was demonstrating how to NOT FALL OVER.

Whiny McBitchandMoanerson

Last night my mom watched the kids for a few hours, and fed Eli some rice cereal, per my instructions. He hasn't had it again since he threw up last week, so I figured his stomach should have been settled down by now. But no sooner did I arrive to pick them up than he started puking down my back (and down my pants and into my underwear, but I can't even speak of that right now.) It was just like the last time- horrible screaming, multiple retching episodes involving multiple clothing changes, and then after an hour or so he settled down and fell into an exhausted sleep.
I don't know what to think. Could he be allergic to something in the actual cereal? I mean, rice cereal is about as plain as it gets. But maybe he has a whey or gluten allergy or something? Grrr. I'm afraid to try it again to see if the same thing happens a third time because.... Well, because I don't want the same thing to happen a third time! I guess I'd better call the doctor AGAIN. Anthem Blue Cross/Blue Shield is gonna be lovin' me, what with the doctor's visits every week or so.
He woke up to nurse twice last night, which was a good sign but left me grumpy and out of it this morning. I had gotten used to just one feeding a night, and hell hath no fury like a me with a screwed up sleep schedule. It's just been one of those days; nothing is getting done and I feel like all I'm doing is putting out fires.
What IS it with mornings and everybody needing, needing, needing, and all at the same time? The baby is hungry and wet, Addy is crying and needs her diaper changed and her nose wiped and her juice cup filled, and the dog is whining incessantly and pacing in front of the door. And of course my bladder is wanting to be emptied and my stomach is hungry, too, but these needs will not be met, probably, for another half hour at least.
There is laundry to be done, dishes to be cleared, coffee to be made (yes it MUST be made) and another diaper to change, and now Eli is fussy and tired and needing to be rocked and I haven't even brushed my teeth yet...
Addy is bouncing around, climbing all over me while I try to rock Eli, begging for her Barbie movie already. I am so not in the mood to see it again, but nor am I in the mood to be a human jungle gym. I put it in the DVD player, and as the saccarine music fills the air, so does the smell of coffee. I tell myself I'll be all better in just a second.
I pour a cup of coffee, and the dog is whining again. The laundry buzzes, and I hear something crashing in the living room. By the time I return to my coffee, it is lukewarm and there is a dog hair floating in it. (BONUS POINTS to whoever correctly identifies the speaker of this Friends quote: "Drink your hair.")
Addy is in one of her Moods today- she is perpetually on edge, upset about some little thing which she cannot explain to me, nor can I satisfactorily correct it or distract her from it. We are both snappy and whiny. Finally I put her in a time-out, for refusing to stop leaping over precarious piles of toys, thudding loudly to the floor, and then screaming while I am trying (again) to rock Eli to sleep. This is not the best thought-out plan, as her furious screaming from the bedroom is far more distracting than the gleeful screaming from the living room had been. I let her out after the requisite two minutes, putting a not sleeping Eli down on the play mat so I can cuddle Addy.
I am trying, but this is one of those days when I feel like all the energy I can muster is not enough. I feel like I am barely holding it together, like my nerves are unraveling one by one. I feel, come to think of it, like a babysitter, who is desperately counting down the hours until the real parents arrive to take over.

And now Addy is playing nicely with Legos and Eli is sleeping and I am, in fact, complaining about problems which are now resolved. But it still feels good. I think a brownie with ice cream would feel good, too.

Pretend You're Interested

All right, I'll bite. Chelle tagged me, and as I was in fact digging DEEP for post material today (i.e., I was contemplating writing about Eli's ingrown toenails,) I will grace you with the ever-popular Seven Weird Things.

The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.

1. When I was little, I went through a phase in which I would literally cry if anyone touched or- oh the horror!- SAT on my bed after I had finished making it up with military precision. It was a long year for everyone.

2. I never liked normal kid food when I was in fact a kid. I hated Doritos, hot dogs, Spaghettios, etc. I preferred "fancy" food, like tea cakes. Or, you know, Little Debbies.

3. I have a very large collection of Willow Tree figurines. I sure hope Adelay likes them, 'cause they're all hers one day!

4. When my sister and I were about seven and eight, we were CONVINCED that we were really twins and that our parents told us we were a year apart just so our youngest sister wouldn't feel left out. We took it so far as to dress alike and speak in pig Latin to one another ("No one can understand us! We have our own twin language!")Now, we did look SIMILAR, but I was a good inch or two taller, and had also seen both of our birth certificates with DIFFERENT DATES, so I'm not sure why I so staunchly clung to this theory. Perhaps it was all the Sweet Valley Twins reading I was doing at the time...

5. I used to obsess over the names of my baby dolls. I would literally make lists and consult them for WEEKS, and I would force my family to learn the names and refer to the dolls as such.

6. I sucked my thumb at night until I was NINE. I'm pretty sure I only gave it up out of shame, too. Otherwise I might still be doing it.

7. I have always fantasized about being on a talk show, and sometimes have imaginary mental conversations with journalists who are fascinated by my extensive humanitarian efforts or brilliant bestselling novel.

I'm pretty sure this list just serves to emphasize what an especially odd kid I was. (One of my friends, with whom I got close in high school, once told me she was glad we didn't meet younger, or she would probably have been mean to me. To be honest, I wouldn't have blamed her.)

All right, now I know a lot of you have probably done this one already, but if not, here's my tags:

Cady

Maggie

Clueless But Hopeful Mama

Fine For Now

Carrie

Miss Mairzy

Musings Of A Mom

Go crazy, kids.

Meaningless Drivel

Because I can think of nothing clever to write about tonight, and because tomorrow I absolutely MUST clean this house and NOT spend three to four hours online, I only have a question for you. A fun one, though, I believe, if you follow celebs at all. I would say I follow them to an extent. I do not subscribe to any mags, but I do read them while waiting to have my teeth cleaned, and I do scan the headlines while in line at the grocery. So while I don't know, say, the current state of Tori's relationship with her money-grubbing mother, I do know that J.Lo is pregnant with twins, and that Britney of course is a train wreck.
The question is, if you HAD to, who would you choose as your celebrity boyfriend/husband/meaningless fling?
I THINK I would choose Clive Owen. Or wait! Colin Firth. Definitely Colin Firth. Mmmm... But I'm open to suggestions.
Go!

Behold The Cute! Behold It, I Say!

That's right, suckahs! I lure you here with wedding talk, and then BAM! You're hit with excessive kid pictures right between the eyes.

Now here we have Jim with his Mini Me. This picture, while I love it, does not do justice to the FREAKISH similarity in profile that these two share. They also both have the exact same browline, and pull their eyebrows together into the exact same Lofty Gaze of Disdain. It is frightening.




I got two of these towels (the other being a yellow duck) for the kids for Christmas, and this was the first occasion which Adelay actually allowed me to pull the animal hood over her head without a colossal freak out. Apparently animal hoodies are right up there with clowns in the list of Things We Want Kids To Like That Are Actually Terrifying.




Eli sporting same towel, with only slightly less enthusiasm. (On different days, though, I swear. We didn't wrap him in her wet, discarded towel.)




This is my first documented evidence of the kids playing together. I plan to trot this thing out for proper guilt trips as soon as it is useful. "See!? See how you used to play nicely together? See you how you used to LOVE each other?"





Now you might at first glance believe this picture to be a showcase of the adorable pigtail braids. It was actually taken to forever immortalize Adelay's odd choice of movies: She does of course dearly love all the Barbie films (who doesn't, really?) but her first love is "Robin Hood: Men in Tights." For real. Followed closely by "The Goonies." My kid is cooler than your kid! Or maybe just... Weirder.




And lastly, in case you were thinking, "These are nice, but they're really lacking that serene yet slightly inebriated Madonna-and-Child tone," I present this heavenly pose for your viewing enjoyment.

Bridesmaid Dresses: Friend or Foe

I think I have mentioned before that Adelay and I are going to be in my friend's wedding this September. This will be my first time as a member of a wedding party, my own aside. Because I am cool and got married at nineteen, thereby beating all my friends to the punch.
Anyways, particularly with that one movie coming out- you know, about bridesmaid dresses, starring that one chic from Grey's Anatomy (yes, I did my research before sitting down to type)- I have been thinking about my excitement over wearing a fancy-pants dress, and how relieved I am that I didn't hate this particular dress.
My question for you is four-fold: How many weddings have you been in, besides your own? Did you like the dress(es) you had to wear? Can you describe the bridesmaid dresses worn by your own attendants? Do you have any regrets about the choice you made?
I have already answered the first two questions, but as for the last ones, my bridesmaids wore strapless, silvery-purple colored dresses that were floor length, had beaded corset bodices, and were kind of a shimmery satin fabric. I still like them a lot, and in fact wish I had gotten to wear one as well as my actual wedding gown. Definitely no regrets.
And you?

P.S. Does this new template make me look fat?

Post-a-licious

Yes, yes, two in one day. Settle down now. Here is some complete and total randomness, none of which provides enough content for a single post, but all of which seemed interesting enough to be floating around in my brain saying, "Write about me!"

1. While the Samoa version was weak and disappointing, Edy's Limited Edition Thin Mint Ice Cream is possibly even better than the cookies alone. What is your favorite Girl Scout cookie? I can eat a whole box of those Samoas. Alas, I find the Tagalongs highly overrated, though they seemed to be most people's fave.

2. Today I gave Addy a bath and was jealous of how small she is in relation to the towels. One of the many perks of being a kid- the towels seem giant and thick and actually wrap around your whole body like a blanket. I remember that feeling, and miss it. Possibly I will sew a whole bunch of towels together and make myself a Big Ass Towel. Sarah's Big Ass Towel, I will call it.

3. Eli's diarhhea is finally gone. I wasn't sure if I had mentioned that, and am even less sure that any of you CARE (from bloggersphere: resounding NO!) but on the other hand I had left the whole subject kind of without a wrap-up, and didn't want you to think that he was STILL pooping ten times a day and that I was just ignoring it. He has not thrown up any more, either. There you go. Both ends reported for.

4. Jim played that freaking "Brothers Forever" song from American Idol about a gazillion times this morning on YouTube, and it has been resonating in my head ever since. Kind of like my head is inside of a gong that is being struck repeatedly.

5. When does a child need to have their teeth brushed regularly? Because it seems like, a, Addy still doesn't have a clue how to do it herself, and just gnaws on the bristles while sucking the toothpaste off (but no more than a pea sized blob, be assured!) and b, she'll only let me do it properly about once every three days, on average. Should I start pushing this whole issue more?

6. I have found lately that my standards for Retail Therapy are getting embarassingly low. Example: It makes me excited to buy a fresh tube of toothpaste, new bodywash, or even to use a new kind of cleaning product (Clorox ReadyMop: Now with a new Zesty Orange fragrance!) I mean, not PEEING MY PANTS excited or anything, but I get that little thrill of pleasure that used to be reserved for at least a new pair of PANTS or something. Before long I'm going to be looking forward to gassing up the car. Look at that, it's on F again! What a high!

Mother's Intuition. OR NOT.

Last night found me happily spooning rice/cereal applesauce mixture into Eli's greedy, baby-bird mouth, enthusing to Jim, "Look how much he's eating! This is nearly twice what he usually takes! Maybe we need to start feeding him MORE!" I glowed with pride in my boy's appetite, sure that this was a sign he was finally feeling well and healthy.

Two hours later found me rinsing a whole crapload of distinctly apple-y smelling barf out of Eli's hair as he screamed bloody murder. I'm SO not exaggerating about the bloody murder part- it was terrifying, how loud and how piercing this scream was. The fact that Addy slept through it is nothing short of miraculous. I felt so bad- clearly his stomach had been overloaded and had no choice but to empty itself. He seemed to be uncomfortable for awhile, even after the first major spew, which woke him up around eleven thirty. I held him and rocked him, wrapped in a towel, as he continued to simultaneously retch and suck his thumb sleepily. After awhile there was nothing left in his little belly, and he fell asleep again.

It reminded me of all those Catherine Newman barfing posts- her children seemed to get an awful lot of stomach viruses. But this is actually the first time I have experienced such sheer volume of puke from a child. Addy never really threw up much at all when she was a baby, and has never had the flu. So hearing that ominouos gagging over the baby monitor last night was the first test of Jim's and my virgin skills in tandem barf cleanup mode.

We did pretty well, I think- I ran and picked up the baby, who was wailing piteously and lying in a pool of regurgitated cereal. Jim went to run a bath while I comforted Eli, who continued to barf all over me and his clothes. We got him undressed, and I bathed him while Jim gathered up the barfy clothes and sheets. Then when he was in clean pajamas, I rocked him while Jim hovered nearby with burp cloths and a bucket (me: "He's a BABY; we're not going to hold his head over a BUCKET!" Jim: "You'd rather have it down your sleeve?")
When he seemed finally to be done with the puking, I rocked him back to sleep while Jim put clean sheets on the crib and helped me remove my yakked-on shirt. Ah, parental bonding.

Not sure how to segue that into Happy Valentine's Day mode, so we'll just jump right in. I made blueberry pancakes and bacon for breakfast, and presented Addy with pink, heart-festooned socks and Jim with a card. Tomorrow night we'll go out for sushi- we were THIS CLOSE to finagling a reservation for tonight, the OFFICIAL Day of Love, but while we were calling to arrange babysitting, the spot was taken. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET, LAST MINUTE SLACKERS! seemed to be the unspoken message from the guy on the phone.

Happy V-Day, everyone! Hope you all get lucky!

Efficiency, Or Lack Thereof (See Also, Laziness)

The morning routine. For some, probably those of you who work outside the home or who have school-aged children, there are certain things that MUST be done at certain times in order that everyone is where they're supposed to be at a designated time. I find this sort of amazing, that people manage to get so much done SO EARLY. Yet, I do not envy you, even though you are probably smugly blow-dried and reading blogs by nine o' clock, while I am still dealing with Pop Tart crumbs and coffee breath.
I am Bad at Mornings. Even on my good days, it's still prettty dismal, frankly. We usually get up between eight and nine in the morning (I KNOW, you hate me now) and even when I'm functioning at my peak, the whole morning routine usually isn't complete until around eleven. In theory, it doesn't seem SO bad- change two diapers, nurse one baby, feed one toddler, feed self, let dog out, dress baby, dress toddler, dress and groom self...
I think my problem is estimation. I always underestimate the time it's going to require to do certain things. Just as I generally underestimate how much it's going to cost to grocery shop per week. This is another of my pitfalls- shopping. Not even unnecessary shopping. I'm really not a big clothes or shoes person; as long as I have what I reasonably need, I'm not too tempted to buy ANOTHER pair of shoes or ANOTHER bag just because it's cute. No, my problem is just in not budget shopping for necessities very well. I never remember to use coupons, and invariably forget to buy enough of something at the cheaper big box stores (like DIAPERS) and end up having to run to CVS down the road and buy it at twice the price.
So my goal this week has been More Efficiency! Less Laziness! For example, I used to do showers in the morning, and that was usually okay, but I had to set Addy up with a movie in order to accomplish it. Lately I've been trying to shower at night to cut down on time in the mornings, and to avoid having Addy start her day with TV constantly. I mean, it still happens, but I've been trying to at least DELAY resorting to movies to entertain her.
Also, I made a list of the things we ALWAYS need, and split it up into two categories: one for produce, meat, dairy, things which are really better purchased at the local grocery store or at Meijer. The other is for hygiene stuff, paper products, baby care, cleaning products, dog food, cereal, crackers, etc. This stuff is ALWAYS cheaper at ye olde Wal-Mart (gag cough hate.) This is doubly true for diapers. I have had time to experiment WIDELY with diaper brands since having Addy, and have found that the best brand for non-leakage is... Parent's Choice! Who knew. I did a diaper run to Rite Aid the other day, forked over ten bucks for thirty Huggies, and the frickin' things leaked all over the place every.single.night. I don't know if my kids have weirdly shaped butts or what, but the cheapies work better (and also have less dye in them, I've noticed, which for some reason comforts me.)
So there you have it. Belated New Year's Resolutions, if you will (Lenten Resolutions?) to be more efficient in time/money management. May the force be with me.

Favorites

I am blatantly ripping the general tone of this post from Swistle and Marizy's recent stroll down doll-naming lane. So MANY people mentioned that their name preferences had to do with certain favorite books, notably the Little House series and also The Babysitters Club. I couldn't stop thinking about all my other favorites, although those two series certainly ranked high for me, too.
There was The Secret Garden, which, while not providing a lot of exciting name fodder, was magical. There was of course Little Women, which I loved to act out with my Barbies (yes, I was a little... Different. No fun and games with Barbie and Ken in the Beach Jeep. It was classic literature for me.) I was a big fan of The Babysitter's Club books for several years, as well as The Sweet Valley Twins series. Anyone remember those? (Twins' names: Elizabeth and Amy, I THINK. And Amy's best friend was Lilah, which is a pretty great name.)
The Little House series goes without saying, naturally- I have lots of good memories of my mom reading those books to us before bed. And did anyone else love love LOVE Anne of Green Gables? I read all seven or eight or however many of those books there were, and can still name all her children. (Oh all RIGHT: Joyce, who died in infancy, James, called Jem, Walter, Anne, called Nan, her twin Diana, called Di, Shirley, and Bertha Marilla, who went by Rilla. In all, not a lot of winners there, name-wise.)
I also loved The Boxcar Children books, but I don't hear many people talk about that series. I read some of the old Nancy Drew books, too, but don't remember being passionate about them or anything. Oh, I know Jim liked the Hardy Boys series, as well as something called Choose Your Own Adventure stories. I missed out on those, I guess.
One of my favorite books was called Baby Island. Really, it was my dream come true- two adolescent girls are on a ship sailing to meet their father and help take care of all the passenger's children, ship crashes, girls are shipwrecked on deserted island with four little BABIES to care for. I wore this book OUT rereading it.
I also really liked the American Girl series that went with the dolls- I got Kirsten one Christmas, and my sisters got Samantha and Felicity (I love that name!) But I'm pretty sure we had ALL the books, even for the other dolls.
Man, I could go on and on (more than I already have.) But I'll give you a turn: What were some of your favorite books/series of books when you were a kid?

Slacker Neighbors

Are you guys friends with your neighbors? And here I'm meaning, did you BECOME friends with them based on their proximity to you (if you were already friends, it doesn't count.) Do you chat casually when you walk your dogs, or are you so close that you maybe even hang out socially or babysit each other's kids? I've been trying to figure out why it is that despite the reasons why I should reach out to my neighbors (they are around our age, they have kids, BECAUSE IT IS CRAPPY NOT TO) I have yet to make even the slightest gesture beyond waving when I pass them.
I think these days it just doesn't seem necessary to be anything more than cordial to one's neighbors. We all have cars, we all (hopefully) (more or less) get out and do things with our friends, and of course we're all busy. There's no real need to make friends out of the people over the fence like there was in the fifties, when housewives usually didn't even have access to cars during the day, and once they had dusted and vacuumed (in their high heels and apron) and sent Johnny and Susan off to school, they had nothing to do but head over to each other's kitchens for the afternoon and discuss their mutual discontent and boredom over Irish coffee. (Geez, Sarah, traffic in ridiculous stereotypes much?)
Now, I don't necessarily think there's anything WRONG with this evolution of social relationship, per se, but it does seem like it would be NICE to at least be on a first name basis with the people living around us. The ones next door have at least one small kid, because I see her coming and going with an infant carseat. Yet they moved in about three months ago and I have yet to go over and introduce myself. I'm pretty sure she's a stay at home mom, too, so I could THEORETICALLY do this during the day. The neighbors across the street have a daughter about five and a son about Addy's age. She's a teacher and he's a fireman, or at least a volunteer fireman. Aside from his annoying habit of backing into his (very short) driveway and swinging his headlights directly into our front window every night, they both seem very nice. We have talked to them a few times, when out trick-or-treating mostly.
Jim was out on Saturday canvassing the neighborhood for his presidential candidate of choice (yes, that's right, we are ACTIVISTS!) and his last stop was their house. He was talking to the husband, Matt, and found out that he had recently been injured when a local business had a gas leak and exploded. We had heard about the explosion (the business belonged to an acquaintance of ours) and I'm pretty sure I even got an email telling me that our neighbor had been injured. But I promptly forgot about it, and then promptly felt TERRIBLE when Jim told me about our neighbor's injuries. I mean geez, I couldn't have sent a CARD? Brought over some COOKIES? Offered to watch the kids so she could go to the hospital in the evening? SOMETHING?
Yuck. There are some things not worth feeling guilty over, but this I do feel genuinely bad about, particularly as someone who espouses Christian ideals (i.e. love your NEIGHBOR!)
So is it too little, too late to go over with some Get Well Soon baked good? Or would that just be weird? Maybe just let this situation pass and then try to, I don't know, watch in a hovery way out the front window until I see one of them come outside with the kids, then dart outdoors and wave frantically, "Hi, neighbors!"?

The Family Cold: A Photographic Essay

Please note the half emptied industrial-size bag of Peanut M and M's. Also the fact that we have converted our coffee table into a makeshift wastebasket for tissues. Efficient, no?




The floor is where we seem to have decided to hang Eli's snowsuit these days.





What? I'm not SUPPOSED to do laundry- must focus on CHILDCARE!




Medicinal chocolate.

Hypochondriac, Or Just ALERT TO DANGER?

Boy, I am ALL ABOUT revealing my Inner Crazy to you guys this week! Yay for honesty! Wheee!
ANYhoo, am I being paranoid to think that if my lymph nodes under the right side of my jawbone are swollen and tender, but the left side is fine, that... That that's BAD? Because I thought it was your GLANDS that swell when you have a cold or sinus infection or whatever. This is like, right under my jaw, not along my neck or throat or whatever where doctors usually feel for swelling. And I've never heard of only one side swelling. I mean, is this like CANCEROUS? Or are glands just another WORD for lymph nodes, and am I in fact not only crazy paranoid but also frighteningly ignorant of basic anatomy?

Also, I'm just gonna throw this out there: If you have to have a bad headcold, it's not such bad timing to get it when your son is also pooping four to five times a day.

A Day In The Life Of Florence Nightingale

Note: Spelling errors are most likely RAMPANT today, so please move right along and try to pretend that you still think I'm intelligent.

It is germapalooza around here, seriously. I can pretty much guarantee that any surface in this house has had enough used tissues and/or mucus covered little fingers on it to render any visitor automatically infected pretty much upon entrance. We should be quarantined. We are GROSS.
My surly mood isn't ALL about the Emergency Levels of Snot situation, though. I was pushed over the edge when, in an effort to cleverly humidify the air so as to comfort my congested children, I freaking scorched the crap out of my pretty shiny tea kettle. I had filled it up, brought it to a boil, opened the spout and turned the heat down a bit, then just let it go to work as a kind of homemade humidifier, right? And I was feeling all proud and efficient and nurse-like for a, thinking about humidifiers in the first place, and b, thinking of a way to accomplish air humidifying without dragging in the dusty Vicks contraption from the garage. A serene, efficient nurse probably wouldn't have just IGNORED the kettle for the next hour, though, until the sight of the FLAMES within it grabbed her attention.
But really? Really the worst thing about colds, scorched kettles-turned-humidifers aside, is the inability of small children to blow their noses. It's a serious handicap, and results in a nose that needs wiping roughly every five seconds. That's not even an exaggeration; I've been doing a case study all morning, and I estimated that that's what it takes- dabbing with a Kleenex LITERALLY EVERY FIVE SECONDS- to keep Addy from absentmindedly swiping at her mucus-covered lip with her sleeve. It is not possible for me to do this, however, considering I have to take breaks occasionally to deal with my own seal-bark of a cough, and to care for the eternally needy Eli, and the eternally messy kitchen, and the eternally empty sippee cup. Oh yes, and to BANG MY ETERNALLY POUNDING HEAD AGAINST A BRICK WALL.
I MEAN, and to go on children's Tylenol runs! (Rite Aid is my new bff, by the way. They have SUCH GREAT SALES on chocolate! All the time! It feels like poor consumerism to pass up bags of Russel Stover Private Reserve when they're only two for four dollars!)
While there, besides getting side tracked in the candy aisle, I am inevitably perplexed by the vast array of medicinal products. What do you guys give your kids when they have your run of the mill bad cold with excessive sneezing, stuffiness, and watery eyes? I've just been doing Tylenol, as when I was in the throes of this bug I felt really achy, and I'm just going to assume they do as well. But should I really be medicating them at all? And are those homeopathic treatments, like the Sniffles and Sneezes tablets or whatever the h they're called, any good? (Side rant: What is UP with all the Dimetapp, Robitussin, etc.? Did I HALLUCINATE that whole children's cold/cough medicine debaucle? I thought they weren't even supposed to sell that stuff anymore! So as to not confuse me with their array of multi-symptom treatments!)

Tallying Up; Also, Boring Maternal Fretting!

The polls are closed! And well, you all do like your sex! But you like your chocolate just a LEETLE better. Those voting for sex over food had convincing arguments, but the foodies had the solid numbers, outvoting you nymphos eleven to seven.
I was actually surprised that the numbers were that close- I had kind of assumed everyone would be all in one camp or the other. Some sort of female solidarity or something. But it seems that the preference depends greatly on both the place we are at in our relationship, and our physical health. Many of us still find sex so new that it's more of a thrill than, say, flourless chocolate cake. Others have been, er, having fun with the same person for over a decade. They look at the bed and think, "Well I've had THAT. But there's a new flavor of ice cream I haven't tried in the freezer!" Or we are pregnant/breastfeeding/have small clingy hellbeasts (phrase credit: Tessie,) and sex, for a variety of reasons, is no longer convenient or even pleasant. We are physically imposed upon almost constantly, and sex can feel like just another invasion of personal space.
That said, I'm still going to push the numbers just a little closer to even by joining ranks with those who would regretfully say goodbye to dessert before sex. And ya'll KNOW I like my food. Anyone who's ever joined me for a meal knows not to even ask if I'd like some cake with my coffee, or some cake with my lunch, or some cake with my CAKE. Now, I could probably give up "real" food fairly easily, but my tastebuds would be in major chocolate withdrawal for some time.
Nonetheless, I still think I would miss the sexual aspect of my life even more than I'd miss Ghiradelli. I'm kind of a tactile person, in so many ways (i.e. I CANNOT shop for things online because I have to actually touch and handle it before I feel comfortable committing,) and I don't think I could do without that physical connection. For me, it is grounding and comforting almost as much as it is exciting. And also, as Mairzy mentioned, I do really like my husband.

All righty then! Before I veer into dangerously romantic and nauseating territory, I will turn this discussion sharply in a different direction: bowel movements! My son's, to be specific. I apologize that I haven't updated on his diaper situation of late, so as to set your mind at ease, but be assured that he has neither roto virus nor any other strange or dangerous intestinal infection, including but not limited to e. coli. HOWEVER, he is still pooping (through his clothes) round the clock, and all of our patience is wearing paper thin. The doctor nonchalantly guessed that he has "some kind of peristent virus" that must be let to run its course, but what the heck, nonchalant doctor? If it's such a strong strain of virus, how come no one else in the house has gotten it despite repeated exposure? This child has had the runs for nearly three weeks, you guys, and been fussy as heck to boot. Do you think I should be worried at this point? Be honest. (But if you can think of a reassuring reason such as TEETHING to explain it, that would be the PREFERRED form of honesty, kthanx.)

A Pointless Poll To Make You Question Your Priorities

If things like starvation weren't an issue, and your only concern was pleasure, would you rather give up sex or food?
You can answer this anonymously if you wish, but by all means weigh in. I want enough replies to compile a comprehensive study of the female psyche! Or the state of most people's sex lives, or the quality of restaraunts, or something.
Anyways! Vote, and tomorrow I'll give you MY answer. (You: A whole day on pins and needles? How will I get anything accomplished?)

Edit: Ahem. That's restaurant, isn't it? Blogger SpellCheck (*cough cough notsomuch*) you are a pain in my lazy arse! Now get off yours and start WORKING, because I cannot be expected to stay sane AND know how to spell COMMON EVERYDAY WORDS LIKE RESTAURANT!

Truth or Dare!

I'm a wuss and always picked truth, so here goes... I've been feeling pretty down lately, a combination of approximately a zillion things. The weather is gross and gray, I've been sick and then sicker, the house isn't selling, Eli's diarrhea seems never-ending (and the dirty clothes and sheets along with it.) I always feel let down after the holidays, I've been feeling depressed about my body lately, and to top it off, I've been having anxious thought patterns which are making me worry that the PPD anxiety which I experienced after Addy was born has sneaked up on me after all. I've basically been experiencing all of this, just a little late this time.
But I think it's turning a corner. First of all, I've been emailing Kara a lot, and I just wanted to thank her publicly for making it okay to talk about depression, anxiety, dark thoughts, and the private things which usually make us feel so ugly and ashamed. Just telling someone else and getting perspective can make it so much better.
Also, I talked to Jim about my mood (which has basically been despondent and detached, unfulfilled and fearful) and he made some good suggestions. One was that I stop thinking of keeping the house clean as my job, because, as he put it, "You don't stay home so that we don't have to pay a HOUSEKEEPER. You stay home so that you can be the one to take care of the KIDS." He has made this point multiple times, actually, and I think I should really take it to heart this time.
SO! I am on strike from housework. I am just going to get up in the morning and get to work HANGING OUT WITH THE KIDS, and do housework only as needed to keep us from sinking into filth. But I will not be cleaning windows or dusting baseboards. While I actually LIKE cleaning, trying to keep the house perfect makes me feel both anxious (I have to do THIS and THIS and THIS...) and also kind of like a hamster on a wheel. A RESENTFUL hamster. So NO MORE!
I also had a talk with my mom awhile ago about my body image (BAD) and she really helped me snap out of my obsessing. So at least my stretch marks aren't tormenting me multiple times a day anymore.
Perhaps the biggest change is that I am trying to incorporate my faith more in my daily life instead of just attending church and letting it go at that. When I forget the truths that I believe in and listen to the negative voices in my head instead, I can quickly spiral into feeling that my role in life is pretty pointless and that none of us really matter anyways, life is just a giant rat race ending in death, etc, etc. Cheerful. So I've been really concentrating on feeding myself a steady stream of healthy, positive messages that I know to be true (I am loved and needed, there is a purpose for my life beyond changing diapers) instead of anxious, fearful thoughts all day (I am a bad mom, I am fat, the sun is never going to shine EVER AGAIN, etc.)
To further cheer me up, today Addy leaned over to kiss Eli and out of the blue, for the first time ever, murmured, "I wuv you, Eli." If that can't make you feel better about your job...
AND my mom ran into my OB-GYN today and mentioned that she and I have been working out lately, and the doctor replied, "Well, that's good, but Sarah's in good shape already." Mwahh, KISSES!!!! And THEN he said that I'd had a pretty rough pregnancy but that I was a TROOPER! I heart him so much right now. It makes me want to schedule an extra Pap smear just so I can bring him a plate of cookies.

How To Feel Like Crap

1. Get a cold/cough which seems to be getting better, than turns around and gets worse.

2. Arrive home to a distinctly unpleasant odor. Search house and find that the dog has vomited all over your bed.

3. Be up half the night with apparent food poisoning.

4. Live in a state where it is gray and gloomy and foggy approximately one hundred and five percent of the time.

5. Have to drag children out in said gloomy rainy weather to a well-child visit, meaning you have to carry your eight pound purse, your ten pound diaper bag and your seventeen and a half pound child in one arm while holding a toddler's hand with the other.

6. Have child take enormous crap while in doctor's office, and realize that your diaper bag is out of wipes. Spend ten minutes scraping poo particles off child's bum with damp Kleenex while a nurse waits impatiently. Feel like an incompetent idiot.

7. Have to comfort TWO screaming children while baby gets his shots, one of which is red-faced and breathless with outrage and pain, while the other is screeching in a voice probably only dogs can hear, and staring at you in horror for allowing her brother to be injured.

8. Arrive home to realize you are out of toilet paper.

9. Prepare yourself tasty leftover tacos, only to bite into them and remember that you have a cold and therefore, no taste buds. Nor is eating even PLEASANT because you cannot breathe while chewing.

10. Dude. EATING IS NOT EVEN PLEASANT. Is there no comfort in this world?

Pet Hair Eraser. Bissel Pet Hair Eraser.

Here he is, ladies. My new main man. You can look, but don't touch...

There is a special pet hair lifter that proceeds the actual vacuum, which supposedly results in greater pet hair pick up than regular vacuums provide. Who knows if this is true, but it did SEEM as though the carpet looked cleaner, and the pet hair lifter reaches really far under furniture. This part definitely works, and is nice when you're reaching under the couch for a lost crayon and you don't have to dig through mounds of dog fur to find it.

The Pancake Effect

I really like making pancakes. I used to suck at it, inevitably whipping up batches of burnt-on-the-outside, alarmingly-batter-y-on-the-inside breakfast treats. But I have practiced and learned, and have now perfected the chocolate chip pancake, the apple cinnamon pancake, and even the (personal favorite) pumpkin pecan pancake. I bought a griddle specifically so that I could be cooking six pancakes at a time, thus allowing me to make double batches, freeze half the pancakes (you can SO do this!) and still be able to eat my own helping while everyone else is still at least IN the kitchen (have you noticed how usually the generous pancake maker ends up eating alone an hour after breakfast began because they're still at the stove flipping pancakes to use up the batter while everyone else has poured a second cup of coffee and is moving on with their day?)
Ahem. My point being, we like us some pancakes around here. BUT. I have noticed a serious problem. Upon consuming said pancakes, usually with a glass of juice and always with a cup of coffee, I feel full and happy. But a couple hours later, by the time I realize I'm getting hungry for lunch, my blood sugar has plummeted wildly and I feel shaky and dizzy and faint. Yesterday it was so bad I actually felt drunk, which is not a feeling I'm particularly fond of. Tipsy, maybe, but...
What I'm asking from you, my friends, is this: Cure my pancake shakiness without taking the pancakes from me! Do I just need to pair the pancakes with eggs to balance the carbs? Do you have a delicious, "hearty" sort of pancake recipe that is filled with whole grains and will break down slowly in my system, sparing me the sugar crash?
Just don't take my pancakes, okay?!
Also, for some reason spell check is refusing to work today, so disregard any errors as being, not evidence of my lack of basic knowledge, but of the pain-in-the-arse-edness of Blogger.

Alternate Uses For Plastic Wrap

So! I finally caved and took Eli, Addy, and the Poo Diaper Baggie downtown. In the five degree weather. Only to be told that the liquid poo had been dissolved and compromised by the absorbent gel of the diaper, and that in order to collect a usable sample, I needed to PUT SERAN WRAP IN HIS DIAPER to catch the diarhea. "Just listen really closely," the helpful tech suggested, "and as soon as you hear him go, run in to change him and try to make a little bag out of the seran wrap, and hopefully you'll catch enough of the liquid in there to get a culture from it."
I'm pretty sure I said very little to the people at the lab as I bundled the children up to leave, so hard was I working to keep from screaming in frustration, both at the doctor, who TOLD me to bring in a diaper, and at the NONSENSE of it all, because I'm about ninety percent sure he doesn't even HAVE roto virus. But what if he does? Or what if he has some horrible virulent form of malaria or something?
So we went home, I cut a strip of plastic wrap and put it in the middle of his diaper, and we waited. Of course the little bugger didn't poop for like ten hours then, so it took til this morning to get a proper "sample" of the liquid poo, which of course flooded off the seran wrap and all over his clothes. But I'm pretty sure I caught enough to provide a legitimate sample!
On the bright side, I'm very happy I'm not a lab technician who has to test other people's feces!

Whiny and Wistful

I've taken a new lovah, my friends. His name is Bissell Pet Hair Eraser. We've been busy making sweet, sweet love on the floor of every room in the house, which explains my neglect of my poor blog.
No, actually, the truth is a bit less glamorous (not that being hot and bothered over a new vacuum is all that glamorous to begin with...) Eli has had diarrhea for a week now, along with a horrible rash which turned into a yeast infection and required a doctor's visit and a prescription. The rash has all but cleared up now, but the diarrhea continues, so the doctor wants me to take a dirty diaper into the pathology lab to see if he has roto virus. My thoughts on this are as follows:
I really don't think he has roto virus, as he has not vomited, is not running a fever, does not seem dehydrated, and has only been cranky and lethargic when his rash was bad. He doesn't seem SICK, if you know what I mean. Am I a bad mom if I ignore the doctor's instructions? It's not like they would do anything different even if he HAD it, right? Just up the fluids (we've been trying to give him Pedialyte in between feedings) and change diapers frequently and wash hands and all that jazz? Because I can do THAT without taking two kids and a poo diaper in a baggie downtown.


My other Thought Of The Week is this: How is Eli such a big boy? He has begun eating cereal (another attempt to halt the diarrhea) and LOVES it. He snarfed down a whole bowl last night in under five minutes, barely spilling a drop on his bib. And he finally slept through the night following his cereal binge- the first time that's happened in over a month. He is in size 3 diapers now, and is wearing mostly nine month clothing. He weighs almost eighteen pounds, and we are moving him this week into a rear-facing convertible car seat, as he is so heavy in the infant carrier that I have begun having chronic shoulder pain from carrying him to and from the car in it. In a few short months he'll be crawling, and... And then I'll want ANOTHER little baby, I suppose. Sigh.

How It Is For You

This is something I wonder about a lot: What is normal for you all? Is it normal for you to still be in your sweatshirt and pajama pants at one o' clock in the afternoon because there hasn't been a good window yet for showering (and you are way too fond of sleep to get up before the kids to shower?)
Do you usually sit down and eat lunch with your kids, and all have the same nutritionally balanced meal, and talk happily about your day? Or do you usually take the opportunity of having your kid strapped in a chair and busy eating spaghetti-os AND shredded wheat to unload the dishwasher without her grabbing at the steak knives? And then do you find that it's four o'clock and all you've eaten is bits and pieces of whatever your kids were snacking on and suddenly you are STARVED?
Do you space out at the computer in between diaper changes and sippee cup distribution and baths, then jolt back up in an hour so, feeling guilty, and morph into Mary Poppins for the next hour to make up for your negligence?
Do you find grocery shopping still to be confusing and frustrating? Do you buy oranges, only to have them rot in the produce drawer forever, and then a month later buy some and watch your family eat their way through two bags in a week? Let's make up our mind about the oranges, people! Yay or nay?!
Does your toddler have a special pooping spot in the house, which is not the actual potty, of course, but a room into which he or she must run and hide, and then emerge from moments later demanding a diaper change?
Or this all just me?

De Ja Vu

Want to make your house so clean and pretty that you never want to leave it? Have an open house in which you try to convince OTHERS to take it from you. Gaze around in awe that every room in your house is clean AT THE SAME TIME, all the dishes done, all the laundry folded and PUT AWAY even. Make breezy comments to your husband about how you're not going to know what to do with yourself the rest of the week since EVERYTHING IS DONE.
Realize on Wednesday that there is a sink full of dishes and two loads of laundry to be put away and that all the surfaces and floors which were so shiny and clean are looking dusty and crumby and smudged. Remember, as you begin to sweep and wipe once again, that you used to ENJOY doing this sort of housework. That it felt like PLAYING HOUSE. Laugh bitterly.

Then laugh in a normal, non-deranged manner at this picture, in which it appears that we are playing "Stiff As A Board" with poor helpless Eli.

For All You Front Rowers Out There

Heaven help me, I'm doing this twice a week now. And I LIKE it. What has the world come to that I like ANY form of exercising?
I was originally doing hi/lo aerobics, but I quickly discovered that in that class I spent more mental energy frantically trying to remember the fancy-pants steps ("and lindy to the RIGHT!") and much less energy trying to keep going physically. So I switched to the Zumba class, which is WAAAAYYY more fun and also a better workout. I'm actually psyched to go tomorrow.
Here is my question for you all (I am looking at YOU, Tessie): what do you wear when you work out? If I were home I would just rock out in pajama pants and a sports bra, probably, but I'm at an actual gym where there are tiny little blonds running around in coordinating outfits with moisture wicking and what not (I get a good view of these women because they are of course always the ones in the front row, whereas I am firmly in the middle-to-back row,) and here I am in my yoga pants, circa 1998, and an oversized tee shirt. How do I gradually upgrade my workout wardrobe without breaking the bank?

Oh Thank You, Sweet Baby Jesus!

That I am NOT pregnant. I drove like a madwoman to make it to the pathology lab before they closed, because Jim called them (and was irate and demanding, presumably) and they finally agreed to give me the results, but only in person.
I was a little afraid that I was going to feel somehow disappointed if the results were negative. Just because it always seems like you should be feeling pro baby, and I worried that maybe there was a part of me secretly cheering on a pregnancy. It would not be unlike me, let's just say. But I was so relieved when I got the results, I was actually shaking. There was no disappointment. And it's not that I don't want more babies. Just not now. I SO did not want to have to go through another pregnancy. Pregnancy does not seem to like me.
Anyways. Thanks for putting up with my obsessive worrying, you all. I am going to chalk this up to a Sobering Lesson in why you don't let those moments of passion get the better of you when you are all out of birth control!

GAAAA!!!

Oh my gosh, you guys, I am seriously about crying with frustration right now. I called the office at three and my results still hadn't been faxed in. The nurse said to call back "in an hour or so." So I dutifully waited an hour, and then gave it an extra twenty minutes just to be safe. Called back, waiting with bated breath, only to get the doctor's answering service! Because everyone is gone for the day! I called the pathology lab then, probably sounding like a frantic lunatic, only to be of course told that they aren't allowed to actually release that information, only pass it on to doctors and doctors only. IT'S MY F-ING BLOOD TEST WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TELL ME!!!
But no. Looks like I will be waiting till Monday. Son of a beotch.

Just Killing Time Blogging

I sincerely wonder what people must think of me when I'm out in public with the two kids. Is she nuts bringing both kids shopping with her? Can she not see that she doesn't even have room for PURCHASES in her cart once she piles in baby and toddler? Can she HEAR the screeching of her child as she clings to the slide of the indoor McDonalds playland even though she is not big enough/old enough to play on it? Why is this woman torturing us with her kids?
I was sweating bullets yesterday, trying to pull a screaming Addy off the play equipment with one hand while holding Eli with the other as older, retiree-types sipped their coffee and watched with curiosity and/or judgement. Probably thinking I should either be sterner ("My mother would have tanned my hide if I acted like that in public!") or gentler ("That woman is practically dragging her kid by the arm!") or at least calmer ("Look at that, her jeans are riding down as she bends over to talk to the kid and it looks like her back is covered in nervous perspiration!")
I got practically nothing accomplished on the outing save providing a convincing demonstration of my incompetence as a mother. Then I got home, tried to get them both fed and settled down and changed and ASLEEP, and then there were what seemed like endless things to do: cleaning, of course, laundry, of course, dishes, of course, and then also the dog is whining whining WHINING at me all day, and there are countless phone calls of people needing things and asking questions and PEOPLE, DON'T YOU SEE I HAVE NO ANSWERS?
Two is enough, I think.
Oh yeah- just called the office, and the results aren't back yet. THE NERVOUS TUMMY PERSISTS.

Taking Deep, Cleansing Breaths

Well, you guys, I did it. I couldn't take all the complaining and impatience, so, despite the fact that I was perfectly willing to wait another week and was not getting squirmy and nervous AT ALL, I went ahead and got the blood test this morning JUST TO APPEASE ALL OF YOU.
Was it just me, or was the receptionist at the pathology lab shooting me weird, slightly sympathetic glances as I plodded out the door, Addy in one hand, the stroller containing my clearly not very old baby in the other? Probably just imagining things, I'm sure.
I'm feeling pretty terrified, to be honest. I think it's just the SIGNIFICANCE of getting actual blood work done rather than peeing on a stick. I've peed on sticks roughly eighty seven times, and they've only turned up positive three times. But the blood tests? So far I'm three for three. And even though I'm pretty sure (at least MENTALLY sure) that I'm not pregnant, there is the fact that EVERY TIME I've gotten the call with the results, the results have been positive.
I'll keep you posted.

Pictures! And No More Crazy!

Eli as "Deer in Headlights."




Addy with her toy MP3 player. Which we quickly hid because it is just the sort of toy that sends her THROUGH the ROOF when she can't figure out exactly how to use it BY HERSELF. ( Oh and DO enjoy the sight of my rear end clad in worn Hanes Her Way sweats. HOT STUFF.)


* Also, by "No More Crazy," I merely meant that I will no longer torture YOU with the details of the crazy. I myself am still in full on Obsessive Panty Checking Mode.

What To Say, What To Say...

(Drumming my fingertips on the table) Hmm, let's see... Shall I write about being moody beyond belief, and forcing Jim to engage in an "assessing the health of our relationship, i.e. do we talk enough do we cuddle enough do we have enough romance yada yada yada" discussion at ten thirty last night? Shall I talk about how Eli seems to have digested my moodiness and has been fussing and/or screeching almost nonstop for two days no matter what I do?
OR do I write about how THE SPOTTING IS GONE AGAIN?! And again, lasted only for an hour! OH MY GOD WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!! I am getting ridiculously freaked out, and the two negative tests are not really comforting me because A, it is possibly just too early for a positive to show up anyways and B, when I was testing with Eli, THREE different tests showed up negative until I finally got a blood test. I finally called the OB's office to talk (read: flip out on) a nurse, only to be told that all the nurses were busy. Was it an emergency? I was asked kindly.
YOU TELL ME, people, YOU TELL ME!

Ahem. On a completely different note (except not that different, as it still involves babies. You: "Shocker.") I have a lovely little linky which you should totally go check out. I WANT TO SEE THIS so bad! The Business of Being Born is a documentary about birth practices in America produced by Ricki Lake. LOOKS AWESOME.

Come Obsess With Me! Part Three

Hi! Yes, we ARE still talking about this. You have apparently found your way to the all TMI all the time station.
Now I'm spotting again. I feel crazed and hormonal and have, as Catherine Newman says it, "hurt my own feelings" several times today over comments Jim made which were in fact completely benign. I also took a test with first-morning urine and it was negative. So based on these facts, I'm thinking period. I know it would still be really early for a test to come out positive even if I were pregnant, but I'm going to relax about and just assume this is the cycle grinding reluctantly back into gear.
That said. I am not enjoying the mood swings and the bleak winter scene outside my window, nor the fact that my knees, after just two aerobics classes, are creaky and cracky and threatening to slide out of place all the time. Am I fifty years old, here, body? You can't handle a high/low aerobics class without starting to go all arthritic on me? Soon I'm going to be able to feel it in my bones when a hard rain is coming.

Still Mentally Curled In Fetal Position

Okay, I guess I won't take the other post down, TMI be damned. Now I just want to hear stories. I want THE INFO, people. Has implantation bleeding ever happened to anyone else? It never has to me, but nor has random spotting. When did you get your period back after breastfeeding? How did it happen- spotty first, then full on a while later, or just, boom, back in business? Did you have PMS beforehand at all? DETAILS, give me DETAILS. Preferably ones to reassure me that this is just my cycle coming back. SET MY MIND AT EASE.

And, for easy reference/nagging worry: (taken from http://www.justmommies.com/articles/implantation-bleeding.shtml)

What does implantation bleeding or spotting look like?
Implantation bleeding, also called implantation spotting, does not look like a regular menstrual period. Implantation bleeding is scanty and usually pink or brownish discharge.


What if I feel like my period is about to start?
If you have had spotting and think it might be implantation bleeding you may be paying very close attention to your body. If you are trying to get pregnant, the good news is that early pregnancy symptoms feel very similar to the start of your period. If you are pregnant you may begin to notice symptoms of early pregnancy right around the time your period would normally start and sometimes sooner than that. If you suspect pregnancy you can test for pregnancy as early as ten days after ovulation.


Particularly enjoy the bolded section. WTF?! How is that GOOD news?

Flipping The Flip Out

Um, this whole post is too much information. I will probably take it down within twenty four hours, so if you have a comment, please make it now or forever hold your peace.
I thought I was getting my period back all last week. Crampy, exhausted, cranky, bloated, but no bleeding. Yesterday I spotted for a few hours. Thought, "Hooray! The cycle is returning." And now? Now nothing. Nada. I think back a little to that one oops time when we didn't use protection. It was eight days ago.
Holy. Crap.
Implantation bleeding, no?

*Edited to add: Took a pt test this afternoon, which was negative. Whew. HowEVER- it would probably be too early to tell yet even if I WERE pregnant, right? (Which I am NOT.) Eight days past (hypothetical) ovulation = too early to test. But I couldn't HELP it!

Wake Up Call

Here's a fun game: Who can guess the number of inches I have added to my waist since my sophomore year of high school (that being the last year I remember measuring my waist)?
No? Not a fun game? Well then, here's the answer. Seven. SEVEN. Good grief. Why does this always happen- as soon as I write about making peace with my body, I get slapped with renewed self loathing after seeing myself in a picture, or getting on a scale, or some other form of COLD HARD FACTS. Bah.
On a more cheerful note, the reason I was torturing myself with the tape measure is that I had to send in my measurements for my pretty BRIDESMAID DRESS for the WEDDING I'm going to be in come September! Yay! AND Addy is going to be the flower girl!
But seriously, folks. I need to whip this body back into shape, and I don't think two hours of aerobics a week is going to cut it. My first plan is to stop buying all the #%$^#ing chocolate just because it is on a major sale. The calories are not seventy-five percent off, Sarah. But I think it will take more than that. My love handles are stubborn little buggers. I need dieting ideas that are both nutritionally acceptable (so no cabbage soup only diets) and okay to implement while breastfeeding. How do I get the pounds to melt away while still providing good milk for baby and also keeping up my energy for toddler chasing (my method for keeping up energy heretofore having been to alternate doses of caffeine and sugar)?

Why I Am A Loser

-I entered Adelay in the Live!With Regis And Kelly Most Beautiful Baby Search. And I cannot help myself, I have visions of scholarships dancing through my head. Here is the picture I sent:


I should have cropped it closer, but I think they do that anyways once you send it in, because all the pictures on the website were close ups of faces. The faces of all the poor LOSER babies.

-I showed up to my first aerobics class, EARLY even, and no one was there. No one. Turns out the instructor had cancelled class in honor of a football game which is pretty important to most people around here and forgot to call me. So instead of working out, I went to a diner and ate pie and sulked.

-My husband and some friends of ours were having a spirited political debate tonight, and instead of taking part, I totally zoned out and drank coffee heavily laced with Kahlua. Either I was too tired to join in, or I just don't give a crap anymore. Either way, it's pretty sad that I'm already too lazy to think about campaigns and it's only January.

-I am obsessively checking The Other Boleyn Girl websites to see if there are any new trailers out. I am marking the release date on my calendar.

And Now For Something Completely New... A List!

1. It is starting to feel like we are never actually going to move; it's just this hypothetical idea swirling around, which we occasionally discuss. I go to the realtor's website sometimes and take the video tour of our house just to "visit" it and remember that it's still out there, waiting for us. (Hopefully waiting for us, and not whoring itself out to other families to be bought out from under us. *Sniff.*) Also, another house in our current neighborhood, just across the street, went up for sale a few weeks ago, and they are asking ten thousand less than we are. Not good for The Desperates. Not good at all. I took their video tour and I think ours is nicer inside, but who knows what other people will think? I am obviously biased. And unfortunately, lowering our price significantly is just not really an option.

2. Kindermusik is over, and I am not re-enrolling Addy. I think I might try tumbling at the Y or something a little more... Unstructured, I guess. I just felt like it was the adults who were more into it than the kids were. The toddlers just wanted to run around and play, and most of the time weren't really participating anyways. Which meant four kids racing around laughing while four adults pranced in a circle to ethnically enriching music, trying to coax the kids to join us. It wasn't BAD or anything; Addy liked the other kids and enjoyed playing with the instruments. I just feel it was maybe a little overrated and not worth the expense. I think she probably enjoys the FREE church nursery just as much if not more.

3. My sister-in-law hooked me up with the website for an orphanage in Guatemala which does basically what I was wanting to do here awhile ago. I am going to try to donate to them on a regular basis, and I encourage you guys to go check them out too! Also in relation to my desire to DO something for underprivileged kids, I am going to take the advise of one of the commenters and look into being a teacher's aid once a week at one of our city schools. Has anyone done this before, and want to weigh in? (Not that everyone attending city schools is underprivileged, necessarily; it just seems more likely, at least in OUR city school.)

4. I have watched Barbie as The Princess and The Pauper roughly fifteen times since Addy received it for Christmas. I have caught myself several times now singing the songs while working around the house. Singing them with feeling.

5. I think I am reaching a healthier place in terms of body image (crossing fingers fervently.) I realize that I am pretty out of shape and could stand to get more active, but I am coming to terms with the fact that no amount of weight loss and/or physical fitness will change the stretch marks all over my hips and abdomen, and that my skin will probably remain weird and almost scar-like on a portion of my lower belly. I have been quietly (and not so quietly) grieving over this ever since Eli was born, though I haven't posted much about it. I guess it seems both shallow and kind of obvious to complain about post-baby body, but it really does bother me a lot.
Anyways, last night as I was putting Eli to bed, I experienced yet another one of those in-love kind of pangs for him as I snuggled in his chubby baby sweetness. Then I went to put my own self to bed, and as I was changing into my pajamas, found myself staring with hatred at my stomach for the zillionth time. And it just seemed so stupid, suddenly. Weren't my babies worth those marks? They are battle scars! If anything, I should be proud of them! Why should I expect that my body come out of such a transformative and HARD experience as childbirth unaffected and unscarred? My body had to stretch to make room for my babies, and now I think it's time my mindset about physical beauty stretched, too, to make room for the beauty of motherhood.

You can all go barf now.

Real New Year's Resolution: No Babies In '08!

Hello, old friend.


Tessie posted recently about Health Kicks and making resolutions to exercise, not eat Doritos while sitting on the couch watching Biggest Loser, etc. So in her honor, here is my confession: I am signed up to take an aerobics class twice a week. I realize I'm about, oh, two decades late in climbing aboard the aerobics bandwagon, but I'm still feeling cautiously excited about it. Listening to a peppy instructor, bouncing around to music, all while wearing Lycra! What is not to love in that scenario?
Oh, but about that not eating crap part? Will not be happening so long as all the delicious Christmas candy is fifty to seventy-five percent off. Let's just be very clear about that. And I blame Jim! He is my enabler! He actually called me from CVS to say, "All the good chocolate is on sale... What should I do?" What should you do?? Do you need to ask?
Apparently, my thighs and Lindt chocolate truffles are having some kind of twisted, dysfunctional love affair. I'm just their channel, people!