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September 2005
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Ready for some Deep Thoughts?

I've been officially TAGGED. Nisa was challenged by Kristi to do this little exercise in philosophy, then challenged Susan, Jessica and I to follow suit. The game is to go to the 23rd archived post of your own blog (or the nearest to it), find the fifth line, and make note. Find the deeper meaning in it. The Zen of Blog, if you will.

So here's mine:

In our giddiness to get going I walked out without my Birks and my wallet ... ended up spending the rest of the day in turquoise flip-flops and mooching money off my carmates.

Wow. Profound.

{Reference sentence from this post, regarding the Two Peas crop in Madison, Wis.}

But let's try to find some nugget of insight, shall we?

Here's my take: I have "mommy brain." In a big bad way. I can't put my thoughts together. I can't get the words out of my mouth for the thoughts I do manage to gather. I slur. I stammer. I come across like a freakin' idiot half the time. I wonder where my intellect and conversational skills have gone. People, ya think you like me now? You shoulda known me WHEN! When I could speak, articulate, cogitate. (Starting to sound a bit like an old INXS song now ...) I used to be fun. I used to be funny. I used to be the designated driver, and now I always sound like Crazy Aunt Ethel who sneaks gin into her tea and always smells like cocktail hour. It's scary, and I miss me. How else do you explain forgetting things ALL the time? Tired? Maybe. Brain tumor? Possibly. Motherhood? Most likely.

And then I read an article stating that researchers have found "mommy brain" actually is a false concept; moms actually have HIGHER brain waves and are SMARTER than non-moms because we excel at multi-tasking, etc. Pardon me while I laugh my ass off. That is such BS. I don't know a single mom who is actually mentally, emotionally, and intellectually better off now than pre-kids. Seriously, I don't. Whoever these researchers were studying must have been dumber than rocks before kids but the scientists weren't aware of that. Who is in the control group? Have these moms been tracked since before they had children? I'm confused. And skeptical.

Or maybe that's the motherhood talking.

Now, who to tag ... hmmm ... who reads this besides my husband (who doesn't blog) and hasn't been tagged? Well, okay ... if you're reading this, haven't been tagged, and haven't yet done this little exercise - go for it!!

Talk about random!

(and why do my fingers automatically think there should be an "e" at the end of the word "random"? It's like they have a mind of their own and overrule my brain every single time I type that word. Huh.)

We have, literally, (and Sweetie, correct me if I'm wrong) about 70,000 mp3 files on a server at home. Yes, they have their own server. I love music, but I know there is no way on God's green earth I'll ever listen to 70,000 songs. So now and then I go sit in front of the mp3 player and generate 15 random (damn! did it again!!) songs, just to see if there's anything awesome that I never would have found otherwise. Today I decided since I have nothing more interesting to share with the class, I'll share the list, in random mp3 order:

  1. Elliot Smith "Coast to Coast"
  2. Baby Einstein/Baby Galileo "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"
  3. Elvis Presley "Blue Christmas"
  4. Pearl Jam "Nothingman"
  5. Squirrel Nut Zippers "The Interlocutor"
  6. DMB "Cry Freedom"
  7. Eagle Eye Cherry "Falling In Love Again"
  8. The Be Good Tanya's "The Littlest Birds"
  9. The Cure "The Same Deep Water As You"
  10. John Hiatt "Mile High"
  11. REM "Saturn Return"
  12. Mozart Sonatas "8. Allegro Assai"
  13. Collective Soul "When the Water Falls"
  14. Eminem "Rabbit Run"
  15. Lemon Jelly "'79 aka The Shouty Track"

All in all, a pretty decent mix of stuff. With some Xmas music and baby music thrown in, apparently, just to keep the listener on her toes!

Good stuff.

Nine years.

Nine years ago yesterday I said "I do" to my soulmate. We may not be "soulmates" in the romantic, sweeping, chorus-of-angels-singing sense of the word, but in the "destiny wanted us together and no one else in the world would ever fit me as well as you do" way.

Weddingpic_1In nine years we've ...

lived in two different states
four different cities
two different apartments
two different houses

gotten poorer
happier again

we've had three pregnancies
two babies
three cats
no furniture
new furniture
cheap dates
expensive gifts
too many trips to Indiana
not enough trips to places we want to see

we want stability
many, many years

we have many plans
many dreams
many prayers
many hopes

much love

I love you, Babe. You were wonderful nine years ago, but I had no idea how great you - and we - would become.

Answer me this:

Why is it that mommies dress their sweet little girls in head-to-toe pink and people STILL ask if Baby is a boy or a girl?


This happened at the grocery the other day. Harper was dressed as she is in this picture (grocery trip was actually about 20 mins after the photo was taken) and this nice little old checker approached and asked THE question.

I'm sure it's safer to ask than assume, but seriously ... the next time someone asks me this I am prepared to answer, "It's a boy, but we're hoping for gender confusion."

overwhelmed by life

There are days when I truly feel like I don't have a chance to sit down and breathe. Take yesterday, for instance.

My sister and her fiance left at 8:30. Marc left at 9. Henry was fed. Harper was fed, changed, and dressed. Henry had graduated to his camo belt in taekwondo the night before and wanted to put on his uniform, go through all his belts, and I would be "Miss Gleisner" (his instructor) and preside over the graduations, so we did that for half an hour or so. Then Harper was ready to lay down for her nap around 10:30, so she got changed, a bottle, then she was down. Then Henry needed lunch, got dressed, brushed his teeth, I packed his backpack, and we waited in the driveway and read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire while we waited for the bus. It arrived. Waved the kid off to school. Went inside, reheated some lunch and ate. Started to clean the kitchen but Harper woke up. Changed her diaper (like, the third poop of the day). Played with her for a little while then she wanted lunch. Fed her, changed her again (this time because she got sweet potatoes everywhere), then we left for the ATA school so I could talk with Miss Gleisner about Henry's progress, signed him up for leadership training, got the first half of his arsenal (weapons in the hands of a five-year-old. Brilliant.), then we were off to pick him up from school.

Got the kid, took him home, Harper was getting crabby so Henry went off to play while I tried to give Miss H a bottle and lay her down. Nope, she didn't want to sleep even though she desperately needed to. So I got her back up, we went back downstairs, I started a load of laundry, brushed my teeth (realized that hadn't happened yet ... nevermind that it was almost 4 p.m.). Took Harper back upstairs, put her in her seat attached to the counter so she could play while I finished the kitchen. Five minutes later I realized that was a pipe dream. I plied her with Gerber Wagon Wheels while I managed to get almost all the dishes loaded into the dishwasher, then realized she was absolutely without a doubt DONE in the chair. Got her out, cleaned her up (sort of), told Henry to come up and get dressed for TKD. Off we went for 45 mins of watching him use the short stick, break training boards, learn some new moves (pretty cool ... he now trains at the same time as the upper belts and one black belt recommended kid), all while Harper was generally grumpy, antsy, clingy ... sucking down Puffs (ah, Gerber ... making kiddy smack with a delightful strawberry scent! Genius!!) and trying to climb up me. Henry finished his class, I tried to put Harp in her carseat, about which she was ever so thrilled, then we drove home as Henry chattered incessantly about how much he LOOOOOVES leadership and how much he LOOOOOOVES his gear and how much he LOOOOOOOOVES that he's in camo class now and Harper simultaneously screamed her fool head off.

I pulled in the driveway at 6:15 (Harper usually eats dinner at 5ish, has a bath, and is in bed by 7 ... and we had yet to even eat dinner yet; no wonder she was pissed), feeling great relief that Marc would be home within 20 minutes to help me out a little. Go in the house, plop Harper in her seat, go to get her dinner and see a message on the machine: Marc, saying he was just now leaving work (6:10) and would be home a little before 7. Tried real hard to not cry and lock myself in the bathroom after hearing that news.

Fed Harper between her howls of exhaustion and pissyness. Told Henry to go downstairs and practice with his sparring gear until Daddy got home, which Henry understood to mean "come upstairs and bug Mommy every five minutes about how awesome it is to have sparring gear and watch me do thisandthisandthis and let's talk about my weapons and and and ..." I finally told him to knock it off, go watch a show, I had to take care of Harper, and don't talk to me until Daddy gets home. Felt like a total schmuck too, but I needed to have him away for awhile. Harper finished her pseudo-eating, I popped her in a bath, and Marc walked in the door just as I was drying her off. He came in to say hi, to which I said don't come in here without a bottle. He saw his daughter for three minutes that day, then left to be with Henry while I put her to sleep.

Went into the kitchen to finish cleaning, Marc fed Henry, then as he put the kid to bed (it was now 8 p.m.) I gave up on the idea of cooking the fish I'd thawed that morning in favor of grabbing Thai. Off I went, into the rain, to get gas and milk and a Powerball ticket (didn't realize I had to buy that only with cash, so had to leave my place in line to go to the ATM to get a dollar), then headed over to Spice to grab dinner. There I managed to sit down, in peace and quiet, for ten minutes as they made my order. Got home a little after 9, we ate, watched Lost, went to bed at 11.

What a rewarding life it is. So full of inspiration and meaningfulness and quality time with my children and time for me to feed my soul and spirit.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! There must be some alternate reality where mothers actually are able to have a clean home, happy children, quality time with the family, time to work out, time for spiritual discovery, time for a latte. I don't live in that world. I live in that world's shit-covered, bags-under-the-eyes, disintegrated-Puffs-smeared-down-the-shirt, haven't-bathed-in-three-days, sleep?-what's-that, don't-you-dare-even-hint-at-wanting-sex-tonight, please-let-me-win-Powerball-so-I-can-sleep-in-tomorrow bastard step-world. It's not a great place to live. I won't be sending postcards anytime soon. I wouldn't recommend you come visit, unless you plan on being handed children as I run out the door, vowing to return in, oh, five years.

Why won't she sleep??

ResizeyawnharperLook at her. 7:40 in the morning and already yawning. And yet she'll play and play and be fine until about 10:30, when she'll start to rub her eyes. Another half hour and the crankies will come to visit. Another 20 minutes and nothing will make her happy.

Yet I give her a bottle, we rock, I lay her down, she sleeps ... and 15 minutes later she's screaming bloody murder and that's it. Naptime for the day is done.

Are six-month-olds really supposed to give up naps?

I hate to complain, because really our overnights are great. She's in bed between 7 and 8 every night, sleeps until 7ish every morning, rarely wakes in the in-between time. But sheesh! I want her to nap!! When is mommy supposed to shower? Eat lunch? Clean something?

It's getting very old.