Conversation Stoppers

A few tried and true conversation stoppers if you happen to have some little person (or big person for that matter) who asks "Why?" 1,608,324 times after each statement you make.

Food Related Queries: Because our bodies are happy when they eat rainbows.

Argumentative Behavior: Because....Look! Was that a spaceship?

Of or Relating to Moving Objects: Because it ran out of gas and the gas truck broke down.

To Baffle or Confuse into Silence: Because the earth rotates slowly (works best if near a globe.)

To Simply Hush a Chatterbox: Because Mommy's ears need a break from sound or else they will need batteries too.

Random Words that Evoke Magical Mental Pictures and Buy You Precious Moments of Distraction: Fire pit. Lollipops. Rhinestones. Pirate Ship. BatMan. FlyBoat. SpiderMonky. UPS Truck. Chocolate. Bubbles. Pancakes.

The Trump Card: I love you.

Koombaya

For the past two days I've been the audience for a soliloquy on marshmallows. Grayson has discovered a bag of Jet-Puff biggie sized marshmallows we bought with the intentions of making S'mores. As will not surprise you, however, we ate all the Hershey's before I even found the graham crackers and Oh now we're paying because the bag of sucrosepillowyness is left over and has made our three year old absolutely rabid to cook them over a campfire. He will not condone simply taking them out of the bag and cooking them in the microwave. He will not even consider removing them to eat one raw. What kind of animal am I. No, he must have the Swiss Family Robinson picture in his sweet little noggin that is his family sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows and singing The Wonder Pets theme song. I can't say I'm not down with this scene but he won't accept the living room version. It has to be real-deal camping out "in the woods with a real fire and sticks and a radio when Daddy gets home." Dear God. In the woods? I was going to start you out in the backyard there kiddo. I'm not even sure I'd tent in the woods anymore unless there is a pop-up trailer with my dental floss and fuzzy socks nearby.

I am glad he is becoming brave in his own mind. Maybe this is the first step to conquering those fears that leave him petrified in his own room alone at night or sadly even during the day at naptime. He now won't even take a nap unless I'm sitting right next to him with my eyes wide open surveying the land for goblins. Maybe if we really do take him camping in a tent outside he will see there really aren't any monsters and we can have our bedroom back.

For now, until we can make his Hudson Trail Outfitters dreams come true I will tuck him into his sleeping bag beside our big bed (now his obsession is all coming together) and listen as he talks to me despite my attempts to keep him quiet and sleeping.

Non Sleeping Boy: Mommy?

Harried Mom: This is the last time talking, Grayson. Then it's night night. Yes, what is it?

NSB: I'm thinking about camping.

HM: I know you are, Honey. You've been thinking about camping all day.

NSB: I love camping.

HM: Yes, you do, this we know. We will take you camping soon, I promise. No more talking now, Sweetie. Night Night.

NSB: Mommy? You know what else I love?

(I try to ignore and pretend I'm sleeping but he knows better and tells me what he loves anyway.)

NSB: Marshmallows.

HM: I should've guessed.

NSB: I love you, Mommy.

HM: I love you too, Grizzly Adams.

You'd Think I'd Be Better at This by Now

Ground turkey thawed in the fridge, almost 4pm, and I still haven't a clue what to make for dinner tonight. Kind of over tacos. Kids won't eat a loaf of meat. Make that Grayson won't eat a loaf of meat. Abby would be thrilled at the prospect. It's raining so I'm thinking soup. Taco soup it will be.















(The kids are taking matters into their own hands. Who can blame them?)

Goodbye Milk Jugs

So the time has come to wean the littlest one. I can hardly believe it's been a year but in six weeks we will be celebrating Abby's first birthday and I would bet my nursing bras that by that time she'll be fully weaned. It's been going on gradually for weeks now. She is such a social butterfly and can't stand to face away from the action that is her brother so day time nursing sessions have been few. Recently, however, she has been too flibbertyjibberty to nurse at night as well. This one is a tough one to swallow. I have cherished our night time together and have so loved nursing her to sleep for the night. Luckily, she takes the bottle from me now so I'm not without entirely. And now many other people can enjoy putting her to sleep by bottle and get that same intoxicating feeling that is helping a little innocent bundle of relaxed neurons drift off into LaLaLand. It's the most delicious feeling.













Knowing it's almost over is bittersweet, to say the least. It marks the true independence of my "baby" who is quite quickly becoming her own creature, great and small. It also marks the beginning of me getting out of those ridiculous tops that contain all this mammary. When I say huge, trust me, they're obscene (see them below? I wouldn't lie to you, Dear Readers and P.S. I'm sorry for making things awkward, Steve, and talking about my boobs so I won't be offended if you skip the rest of this although you've made it through the ickiest part so go ahead, the coast is clear.) Coming from a modest size pre-pregnancy chest size, it always makes me laugh when I catch a glimpse of them in the mirror. If they didn't come attached to the extra mid-section blech (such a winning consolation prize for years of sleep deprivation and feeding an entire human from your body, no?) then I'd have a chance at hot but alas, I'm obviously just a very nursing mom. And soon, I think like tomorrow soon, I'll be just a mom with a bottle or a sippy cup. Wow. How quickly the tides turn back.







































What I'm looking most forward to is running again. Well, that's a hyperbole if I've ever written one. I've never actually run unless there was a screaming in pain toddler or a runaway dog at the other end of it. I'm a galumphy jogger at best but even with the shin splints and side stitches I miss it so much. Last night I had a mini-pity party for my plumpy self and took Sadie for a slow jog. She was thrilled. She was smiling. Her paws lifted high into the air as applause for our outing and she bit at her pink leash.



















After we set off for our adventure away from sedentary I looked down at her and saw the one year old dog we adopted almost seven years ago. She is nearing eight now and it breaks my heart. Both of my girls are getting older and I am twisting from the inside out because while one of them I can accept for now (Abby), the other is far too accelerated and it is gutting me. Gutting. Me. I do the dog math and she is already over-the-hill and doing Pilates to keep her tush firm and her librarian arms at bay. She is aging as gracefully as anything I've ever seen and if the snow around her muzzle and ears wasn't there, I'd never know she was a day over four. But the snow is there. She has the tell tale age spots on her sweet raisin nose. Her nails have yellowed and her teeth no longer look like a commercial for Eukanuba Puppy Food. My girl is getting older and I'm a total mess about it.

These morose thoughts coupled with the hormonal roller coaster that naturally comes with weaning have made living inside my head a crowded place. I am not great in crowds (think situationally catatonic and you're close) so I press on to find the silver lining. So while I am sad to graduate from the nursing world permanently with my AbbyCakes (and believe me I could write another twelve posts on that sadness alone), I am also excited. Any excitement I can derive at weaning Abby is certainly 99.9% due to knowing that soon I will get out w/my canine "first born" more often during the week. Just the two of us on the open road (more like a series of cul-de-sacs and straightaways really but that's cool too) with the gait of a baby elephant, me not her, but the heart of a sprinting gazelle, her not me. We will break a sweat. We will burn calories. We will get into that little black dress. Sadie will look better because blonds just do but that's okay with me. I am simply looking forward to spending time with just her again, being her mom again and if I didn't know better, I kind of think she's been waiting patiently in the wings all along.

One Sandwich Short of a Sandwich Shop

So the kids are in bed, the dog has circled her section of the foot of our bed fifty-seven times before committing and my husband and I crawl in to catch the end of Top Chef. He then says to me, "I think when I retire we should open a sandwich shop."

Me: Oh Yeah?

Him: Yeah. You know, with so many great family recipes we have, it'll be perfect.

Me: Which recipes are those?

Him: My dad's coleslaw, my sister's potato salad, and....(his voice trails off and I give him at least 60 seconds to reconnect but the line is dead.)

Me: So let me get this straight. We're going to open up a sandwich shop with your * dad's coleslaw and your ** sister's potato salad. ***

Him: Yeah.

Me: Clearly, you've thought this through. I'll start drafting the menus tomorrow.

Him: Do that.

The End.

* His dad's coleslaw is phenomenal.
** His sister's potato salad is to die for.
*** Maybe he has something here.

Fall'ing

We just got back from a beautiful afternoon at the park. Since I'm pretty sure I'm the only stay-at-home parent in this neighborhood, we had the place to ourselves. I remembered to bring my camera this time because yesterday I forgot and cursed myself as I stood beneath a blaze of cinnamon and spice colored leaves high-fiving each other way way up high in the sky. And the sound of acorns falling to the ground adds to the excitement of being outside on a gift like today. It's the same sound you'd expect from a small object meeting the pavement but it's rapid fire and makes you think you should've brought along an Uzi instead of a camera. So here we are, enjoying our day. But before you scroll down, I have to ask you to look carefully. There is a *surprise* in one picture that I just noticed while loading them up for this post. Here's a hint: background check. I laughed right out loud because in a position like that, one can be doing only one thing. Can you find it? By the looks on Abby's face, I think she caught it all happening and chose to keep the secret to herself.

The Pink Jacket...

...just kills me.

Returnsies

Not sure why this is but I have the returnsies lately: Buy something. Bring it home. It doesn't fit, work, or match. Bring it back to the store the next day. The suburban Hokey Pokey. It's so bad that the woman in Customer Service no longer asks if something is wrong with item in question. She simply lowers her eyes when we pull up to the counter and turns her hand up for the receipt. She automatically puts amount back on the credit card and mumbles a thank you to let us know we are officially dismissed (and officially the most annoying tripod of returners she's had to deal with since probably 8 am.)

It's not like I'm making snap decisions inside the store. Quite the opposite, really. With the level of multi-tasking that must go on with a 10 month old in a stroller and a 3 year old making pirate costumes out of women's apparel there are tens of things going on any given moment. This could throw some people, certainly, but I am so awful at multi-tasking in public that it just forces me to stop what I'm doing, focus, find my shopping chi, and spend more time internally contemplating item in question. Even after zenning on it for a whole 47 seconds and finding it the perfect purchase it is inevitably going to find itself back at the store face down in a red cart to be shelved when someone finishes their lunch (text) break.



















The most recent purchase to be returned soon is this. Keep in mind I was looking for an organizational system that will help store toys in an accessible-for-tiny-hands sort of way while still keeping fun stuff in view. The toy trunk is not an option as it is pretty much a place where toys go to die around here or a huge rattan landfill that is dumped upside down so it can breathe every few months. The cubby system rocks in my mind also because little helpers can lessen parental insanity by helping us put things away when it's time to clean up (it is always time to clean up). I also picture the cubby system working well because OMG look how adorable they are in the Land of Nod catalog! What isn't? I want to crawl right through those pages and frolic around in those playrooms until the end of time. Or until Social Services shows up. Whichever happens first. Mox Nix.

Notice how in my purchase above the cubbies are 4 inches by 5 inches. They are clearly made for bottles of wine. And Smurfs. Obviously not designed to house the massive amounts of bulk we have here like Optimus Prime or remote Tyrranosaurus Rexes. 4 by 5 inches and I believed this was the solution to all my can't-see-the-carpet-is-it-even-dirty? nightmares. My finger is almost 4 inches and yet somehow, in my Target induced haze, I joyfully plunked this wooden contraption into our cart wholeheartily believing it would bring world peace and heal souls. Until I got home.

Didn't even open the box because, well, the extra oxygen and happy latte crack wore off the minute I turned the key to the front door (no offense loving family or warm cozy house that we live in) and it all became painfully clear that another very poor shopping decision had been made.

Perhaps it's all a ploy to retain the need to go back to the store to return the item in question? Gah, that's even more pathetic to consider so let's go with the notion I'm completely incapable of making sound choices when my brain is more concerned with shushing a red-faced Graco prisoner while also reigning in a clompy free range zig-zagging boychild. Who knows, maybe we'll keep the wine cubbies. I have a few stray strands of uncooked spaghetti that I don't know what to do with or hey, I know! I'll use it for a place to finally store that pack of gum I just can't squeeze into my purse. Who am I kidding. Customer Service Girl, we're baaack.

Wendless Wordsday

I flipped a guy off yesterday in an act of retaliation for him calling me a B. I can be a B, sure Mr. Pedestrian with the right of way, but you haven't seen anything yet. Come hang out for a few days and I'll give you something to be really upset about. My vehicle (accidentally) inching two centimeters toward your crosswalk will be a distant memory as I ask and then demand you to eat real food and not just crackers, clean up after yourself because I have already cleaned a bajillion messes, get your socks off the kitchen table, stop chasing the dog with your samurai sword, stop pushing your sister over because you think it's funny, stop talking in that voice that makes me want to chase you with a sword, and the list goes on. Oh yes, you got away unscathed and you don't even know it. The B powers I possess would likely leave you speechless so next time, please don't rob me of the many masterful ways I can show off my B-ness to you and your eloquent bravery for cursing out a mom with her two young children in a minivan. At least my bird came with a smile.

Perspectives

Since his birthday, Grayson has been enjoying hearing the story of the day he was born. His rosebud mouth melts into a smile when I talk of him being such a sleepy and hungry baby and how he curled up on his Daddy's chest to nap for a long time. Grayson asks to hear the part about his first homecoming and how Sadie licked his face once and walked off like one taste was all she needed. He chirps "again, again!" when I talk about how Nammy & Pop brought Mommy donuts the morning after he was born so we all had a picnic in the little tiny hospital room. He wants to know exactly what songs I sang outloud to help with the onslaught of contractions that helped bring him out of Mommy's belly. He wants to know everything.

Interested in what I may have forgotten or simply how his father may interpret the story, I asked my husband to iterate his version for Grayson. After a long, thoughtful, and serious pause over a sink of sudsy dishes he waxes from his heart.

"It was a long day, Bud."

And that is the male perspective.

Proceed with Caution

Grayson teeters between caution and adventure. He is down for a fun time but in moderation. This has been true ever since he was a baby. He would always soberly consider a funny face before cracking a smile. He'd inch himself toward the edge of the bed but stop a foot before nearing the dropoff. I was under the impression that's what all babies did. (Until I met Abby.)














As a toddler, Grayson is experimenting with new comfort zones. He is still cautious but very interested and curious of the unknown. One of his favorite games is to have Daddy spin him round and round by his arms. Since Daddy and I aren't in a rush to dislocate an elbow or a shoulder he has started to spin him around by his legs/ankles instead.

It's new, it's fun but still a touch unsettling. Judging by his face (second picture below), it looks like Grayson isn't sure what to make of the new position.




















(Uh oh, the calvary in pink is coming.)





















And then we have Abby. Fearless, no bounds Abby. She is my Parachute Girl who will, in my humble opinion, be the first in the family to jump out of airplanes and scale rock walls just because. In fact, the only thing getting in the way of her and a quick descent on this stairwell here is Sadie's leg. Something tells me there aren't enough Sadie legs or gates in the world to keep her "in" for very much longer. Hopefully her brother can teach her a thing or two about boundaries. That's if he can catch her.

Paparazzi

Sometimes I climb over the gate and hop downstairs to "check the laundry" while the kids are still upstairs playing (or if you're Abby eating tissues and if you're Grayson stabbing Sadie in her sternum with his plastic sword.) Sometimes I just need a breather. Some personal space. Two minutes without baby saliva or answering "why did that thing make that noise the other day ago."

No matter how enthralled they are with their respective game or toy this is what I come back to find. Every time.




















I feel like Madonna. Or at least Kathy Griffin.

Atonement

Don't you hate it when you leave the jar of peanut butter in the sink (husband - not me believe it or not) or tuck the house phone in between the coffee filters and Gerber snacks? It's always a struggle to keep things where they need to be so you can find them later. And double whammy in this house because Lord knows I'm the farthest thing from a neat freak as ever there was. Definitely a neat freak wannabe but my DNA gets in the way and makes messes out of thin air because my great great grandmother probably was a liberal arts major too.

How I can keep track of my car keys, cell phone, and purse is nothing short of a miracle. Actually it's a routinized method I taught myself to use (my special ed training comes in handy) when I almost had to hail a cab to the pediatrician's office a couple of years ago. A cab instead of driving because one would need to locate their keys to drive themselves anywhere. After a twenty minute panic attack that included stripping the bedsheets and moving mattresses in hopes of finding a sliver of silvery keyness I finally found them. In the freezer. The freezer?

In light of my executive functioning handicap I bought a little purse that holds only my car keys, cell phone, and lip gloss. This little purse now hangs on our key rack in our kitchen (oh and here's a map of our entire house, robber blog stalker person. please don't wake us while you're taking everything we own. you're welcome) so I know where it is at all times.

Yesterday I went to grab my cell phone from my little purse and found an empty spot instead. Hmmm. Diaper bag? Nope. Coat pocket? Good suggestion but nope again. Okay, this could go on all day, let's call it from the house phone.

Riiiing. Riiiiing. Bzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzz, said my cell phone from somewhere that sounded like the upstairs, downstairs, garage, and washing machine all at the same time. I kid you not. I called my cell at least seven times running around my house like a coyote with its snout in the air first right, then left, upwind, then downwind. Hard as I tried, I could not discern its exact location. Where are you cell phone?! Hellooooo????



Then I put it all together.














Yep. In there. Way down in there.













Next to that upside down McCafe cup.














In with the hot cakes and sausage debris. Can you see it? No? I'm sorry, more specifically it's due south of the York peppermint patty wrapper.


I think someone needs to stop wasting time looking for lost cell phones and more time in the produce section of her supermarket. Damn latte. Sang like a canary.

The Swine Flu Blues

Is it me or does the swine flu vaccine scare the shit out of anyone else?

I have no doubt that it is better to vaccinate your child rather than watch him or her suffer what could be the worst symptoms you've ever seen inhabit that little body. I'm not looking forward to that party. Of course we all know the vaccines are necessary to protect against a pandemic and avoid last minute sojourns to the ER. And (I think) we all understand the ramifications if we don't. Yet so many of us still struggle with inoculating our children with this H1N1 vaccination. Why? Educated on the topic or not, it is counter-intuitive. We, as parents, are put on this earth to protect and teach. In that order. And we are the ones holding our little babies in our lap while the needle dripping with all kinds of ugly is aimed to perforate their perfect skin. It feels crazy to inject poison into a toddler or baby size portion of sweetly unadulterated blood cells even if that poison will then produce even sweeter antibodies in their system. Science is grand but holy tomoley is it overwhelming too. I can't pretend I understand every single iota about administering the H1N1 vaccination over not administering it but I'm definitely trying to learn. I'm a few steps short of inviting Dr. Sunjay Gupta over for a house-call and dinner so he can explain things to me in a way I'll not only understand but believe.

This is the part of parenting I don't enjoy: the playing God part. I want to protect my children with no (scary threat of side effects or worse) strings attached. I want to know that when I put my arms around their chubby elbows, I will be the one to feel the sting instead of them. In a perfect world this would be the case but man is imperfect and so is the world in which he resides.

My kids just got their regular seasonal flu shot yesterday. Our doctor's office did not have enough swine flu vaccines to go around so I'm on a waiting list. This is fortunate for me because while I "wait" the mama bear in me wants to stomp around awhile and read about the H1N1 vaccine until I saturated my brain on the topic. In my search, here are a couple of links that I found interesting.

Debate Over H1N1 Vaccine on NPR
Study Finds Most Parents Won't Have Their Kids Vaccinated- LA Times
To Vaccinate or Not To Vaccinate
CDC Info
****New Jersey Moms Blog- Cristie's POV- adding this post publishing b/c it's exactly how i feel too. see? lotsa mommies (and daddies and grandparents, etc.) worried and concerned. what do you think?

In my opinion, it does seem safer to give the swine flu vaccine than opt out but that does not make picking up the phone to make the appointment for that course of events any easier. It's the part of parenting I may not like so much but could make all the difference in the world. Literally.

Bedside Tables

His:














Hers:













If the outside is any indication of what goes on inside then one of us is a complete cluster-eff. The other one just has the munchies.

Grayson's "Canceled" Dino Party

Click here to view these pictures larger

Cancellation Policy

So the Dinosaur Party went off despite my attempts to cancel the poor thing. It's not that I wanted to cancel my son's 3rd birthday party. To the contrary, I was heartbroken when I woke up Friday morning (day of official bday but day before official dinosaurious celebraticus) to find Grayson sniffling, stuffy and then 24 hours later, feverish. I made the phone calls to the family and the friends to inform everyone that not only would you eat cake and open gifts but you'd likely get a nice fat mug of Thera-Flu and an appointment with your pediatrician in your goodie bag if you showed up to our house on Saturday. It just seemed like the best decision to protect everyone's health and well-being.














(Just so you have a visual, this is what Grayson looked like Friday night. Agreed, that's a cool katydid but that little swollen face behind it is suffering!)


I was bummed all day Friday. Grayson had been hearing the hype about this dinosaur shindig for weeks and now he was bummed it wasn't going to happen. Then, Saturday morning I made more phonecalls to those stellar few who wanted to come anyway to let them know that while, yes we were still decorating and calling it a party, we (the already achoo-ed upon and thus positively contaminated) don't recommend anyone else come within coughing distance of us because now Abigail had the yuck as well. And wouldn't you know....my dear family (Yes, Lisa, you are included in the family category whether you like it or not) braved the germs, runny noses, and explosive baby sneezes and showed up regardless (See above posted slideshow.)

I don't have to tell you that this was the best damn UnParty I've ever hosted. I'm going to have to cancel them every year to lock in such a fantastic turnout. Thanks for the memories, everyone. And I sure hope your doctors will be able to work you in this week. Until then, fluids and rest.

One, Two, Three!

Three years ago today I was hee-heeing and whistling (weird, I know but for some reason it worked!) my way through contractions that brought our firstborn baby boy into the world at 4:43pm.

the beloved ice chips, yay for ice chips!

(seeing Grayson for the first time. i think i look relieved-how about you?)

The best first advice I got as a brand new mom was from my doctor, the greatest OB in the universe (she had already delivered five babies in a row and came in to check me last. I was 9 cm. She picked up the phone, called someone and said, "I'll be a little late, I have one more baby who wants to meet his mom tonight." See? Love her.) She told me to bring a pen and paper with me to my recovery room because you'll never "be able to reinvent those first few precious moments you have with your new baby," once you get home and life gets underway. I followed her advice religiously for 9 months with great result so I wasn't about to stop now. I'm copying what I wrote free-hand so I can have it on this here bloggity to visit when I'm feeling particularly sappy.

Happy Birthday, Grayson. You are getting to be such a big boy but you'll always be my baby.

10/10/06

2:30 a.m.

Little heart-shaped face

stares back at me and

I forget where I am.

Already reminded of becoming

your mom, I smile at

the thought of seeing

you, of greeting you

every day ahead.

You are a precious gem of strength,

sweetness, and not yet

defined beautify that

is pouring from those

light-shy eyes. I've known

you one night and I've known

how to love you forever.

Easy-going nature, I

build my dreams around us-

the new family of four

here to give you the best

of ourselves as thanks

for the blessing that is you, that

is our son.

Love you always,

Mom, Dad, and Sadie

xoxoxoxoxoxo

What to Wear?

What does one wear for her very first blog nomination? I've always wondered how these things work and wouldn't you know, my talented and generous friend Cristie over at The Traveling Circus went and added me (number four in a pretty darn impressive list of 7- wahoo!) to her nominee list after her awesome blog was nominated itself. First, I have to tell you about The Traveling Circus. I once virtually yelled all over Facebook that her blog was where I got my smart and sexy and I wasn't just adverstising for a friend. She simply has a way with language that makes you feel like you stepped into a cool professor's lecture hall who happened to be discussing current events...and Louboutin shoes. Yes, Cris is my personal friend who I have had the pleasure of knowing since high school but she is also a rock star mom who has three beautiful (no seriously - striking- I kid you not, look here) charges to raise. But mostly she is a working woman who does blur the lines (in the best way possible) of work, parenting, and keeping herself balanced. I admired her in the past as my quick witted roommate in college. I admire her now for her crafty words, sense of humor, and ability to keep her adult world not only together but extremely polished. She is the fine wine of this blogging universe and I can't thank her enough for nominating me, a bent up box of white zin.

To Those Who Are Nominated: Here are the "rules" of the award:

• You must thank the person who has given you this award*


• Copy the logo onto your blog (in post or sidebar)* Link to the person who nominated you for the award*


• Name 7 things about yourself people may find interesting*


• Nominate 7 other Kreativ bloggers*


• Post links to the 7 blogs you nominated*


• Leave a comment on each nominee's blog to let them know they have been nominated.

Here's where I get to choose 7 interesting things that will probably make you think less of me. Okay, read 'em and wince:

1. I would love the opportunity to decorate my home (and myself) in what I find in thrift stores. Musty or not, some of the things I find there are treasures from another plane altogether. The sordid and fantastic tales they could tell are reason enough to warrant a new home with me. I will always wonder about them and isn't that the best compliment about anything - to always wonder where it came from, what its story is, and how it got to be exactly right here. I think so anyway.

2. Since having my second baby, I am always on some level a little bit nauseated. It's something I don't talk about because drawing attention to it seems to be a bad idea. I ignore it like the first few sneezes of a bad cold in hopes that one day I'll wake up and find it gone forever. And to answer your question, no. And to answer your next question because I have taken enough pregnancy tests each month that the tests themselves look up at me and go, "Seriously, we're expensive. Why not just get your own sonogram wand and save yourself a few hundred trips to CVS?"

3. I have zero tolerance for narrow mindedness in the form of negative slurs. For me, if you can't put yourself in someone else's shoes then you best keep your maw shut and closed around me.

4. I have an unhealthy obsession with Bravo TV once the kids have gone to sleep. I'm still mourning the fact that Project Runway has moved to Lifetime. Can't keep the channels straight in my brain so end up missing Tim and Heidi too often.

5. I also have a thing for (Take Home Chef) Curtis Stone and (Adventurer) Bear Grylls. I would never stray from my man but oh my gawed would I have a pretty long moment of silence to think about it if Mr. OutbackSexyHair and British Wanderluster ever extended an invitation to his kitchen or dark cave, respectively.

6. I ate 12 mini candy bars in a row to "celebrate" losing 2 lbs this week. I'm still a little sick about it.

7. I use parenthesis too often in my writing because, well, I don't know really but even I think it's irritating if not a little 6th grade note to your BFF-ish.

And Here's the Really Good List of Writer Extraordinaries I Visit Just About Daily:

1. All & Sundry is funny with a capital F. Linda has such an honest command of language that I find myself going "me too, I know!" at least every other sentence. She is unapologetically hilarious with a soft side that comes through in her pictures.
   
2. PajamaMom is probably my favorite blog of all time. I found her through the Traveling Circus and am so grateful because she is my daily lifeline to wit and circumstantial hilarity. She has a self-deprecating humor that wills you to both laugh right out loud and relate right away. A must go see.
3. Amy from Amalah.com is another funny girl blogger lady. She has the real-life mom stories to beat all other mom stories out there and then some. Amy will take you on her journey with two small children and trick you into believing you know them all personally. You will find yourself going back to reread entries just to "visit" with your new friends. Her kids are both insanely precious so that never hurts. And she uses more parenthesis in her writing than I do which I did not think possible.
   
4. Adventures in Babywearing Stephanie is the author of this lovely blog. She has a strong sense of self that comes through in her short prose about her beautiful babes and family. I love her insight and warmth. Though we've never met in person, I look to her for moral support when I'm feeling anemic in the parenting department (you know, like every single day) Oh, and she has a little boy named Grayson too!
   
5. FreeAnissa This is an excellent blog written by another awesome mom who wears her heart on her sleeve. She has a mean right-hook punch style with words and gets her point across with as few words as possible. I find myself choking up without much notice while reading her blog. If you visit, grab your tissues because she will suck you in to her family's story in no time too.
   
6. Jessica from This is Worthwhile I just stumbled on this excellent blog recently. Jessica is a smart and earthy mom who says what she means and means what she says. I agree with her point of view quite often and love the fact that she is sharing her struggles with finding the right balance in "momming" along with all the happy that goes on in her life. She is definitely someone I'd love to meet in real life too.
   
7. Cristie's Working Chick Yay, I found the loophole! This is Cristie's other blog and one I love because it gives me hope for life after being someone's mom. When I'm craving a 9-5 outside world I visit her blog and find myself inspired to work toward a goal of becoming a working parent. Some day I'll take that leap. For now, I will live vicariously through her.

So there you have it. A wonderful list of ladies I know you will love as much as I do so get cozy in your seat, press links and enjoy!!

Renewal

Fall. Sweet pumpkin and sweatshirt fall. There is just something delicious and homesick about this all-too-short season. Trees shimmer, leaves cartwheel, and chilly air moves me closer to the place stamped in my kid memory as home. Fall is always home, no matter what roof is over my head or what state is on my license plate. It's like the friction that built up all summer long is ushered right on down the lane as red, orange, yellow, and brown smooth over the bumps and bruises. Fall brings tea and asks if you need anything else while it's up. Fall is family you can't wait to see over the holidays, weddings, or birthday parties. Fall is... (all right, shit! get a room.)














Today, for me, was the first day of renewal. It couldn't have been more gorgeous so we played outside for a good long time. The air chased Grayson while he and Sadie padded around the yard in their
bare feet. The leaves caught in Abby's lap so she feasted on their stems. The sun warmed my shoulders and cast a soft sheen on everything around giving plenty to enjoy with my Nikon (and without). There are better shots but these were the ones I will remember from our time spent outside today on our first day of fall.