Baby Watch Your Back

Being pregnant is something like an endurance race. For nine months your body is working hard to build and grow a new human being. It takes a lot of work to sustain that new life, but somehow our bodies figure out how to do it. In the process, however, the strain pregnancy can exact upon your body, especially your back and hips, not to mention your stomach muscles, can really take its toll. And, speaking from experience, I can tell you that the last thing a new mommy needs is an aching back.

When I mentioned previously that one of the best things you can do for yourself prior to becoming pregnant was to get in shape, I wasn't solely referring to body weight. I also meant that you need to focus on strengthening your core muscles. The core muscles, what we typically think of and call our abs, are the muscles that help support our backs, the place where you're going to be carrying much of that extra baby weight. Going into pregnancy with a strong and supported back can help reduce the prospect of lower back pain. Another benefit of having strong and toned core muscles prior to getting pregnant is that your pelvic floor muscles are also considered part of your core and when you work your abs, you can also strengthen the muscles connecting to your pelvic floor. This adds to your stability, helps strengthen the pelvic floor which can prevent incontinence, and can also help you bounce back more quickly following the birth of your child.

So, how do you strengthen your core? It's all in the abs, baby. One of the quickest and easiest things you can do, though, is to think about your body and start by contracting your abdominal muscles while you're reading, watching tv, surfing the Web, cooking dinner, or whatever you're doing. Just contract the abs, hold for 10-15 seconds, and release. It's important that you contract the abs as you are exhaling.

Start here and you'll be surprised how this simple exercise can make a big difference. As your core gets stronger, you will be able to feel the impact on your back.

Birdhouse in Your Soul

Well, I certainly had a bee in my bonnet today. I not only produced multiple blog entries, but wrote a lengthy apology to the MOMS Club membership in my chapter for blowing up via e-mail at one of our members.

Mothers judging mothers happens to be one of my pet peeves. Yesterday, one of our members, L., sent an e-mail to our group asking for advice on getting her son to take a pacifier. Several of us responded with our advice and then one of our new members responded in what I perceived as a judgmental tone asking why L. wanted her son to take a pacifier. I kind of went off on her. Just a little. Especially after she wrote that L. was the best pacifier for her child.

I said that L. was a human being, not a pacifier and that the AAP now recommends the use of pacifiers to help prevent SIDS.

I am totally in favor of breastfeeding, but I don't think that every time your baby cries for no obvious reason (i.e. isn't hungry), you should pop a boob in his mouth. I believe in feeding on demand and I believe in consoling your baby, but I don't believe that mommy is the human pacifier. Sometimes, especially when they have more than one child, mommies need to be able to put junior down for a minute to tend to the needs of other family members. Or, God forbid, their own needs.

Anyway, I said all this rather brusquely, feeling defensive for my friend's right to choose to give her son a pacifier without being judged by the Attachment Parenting and Breastfeeding police. Unfortunately, the mom who questioned the use of the pacifier was even more sensitive and decided she did not fit into our group.

So, I offered my apologies with a statement about how no one in our group had ever judged anyone else for her parenting choices. Hopefully she will decide she can fit in after all.

On another topic, I just want to clarify that I realize I'm also not winning any Pulitzers for my blogging, but I'm also not writing for a premier news magazine. Just to be clear on that.

Thanks, Sherlock!

I hate articles or conversations or debates that begin with the question, Is X overrated?. it pisses me off. Obviously the writer or questioner thinks so.

Anyway, this article in Time rubbed me the wrong way from the first paragraph. The writer is clearly some smarmy, child-hating, self-imposed arbiter of technological popularity, and poseur trying to make out like she's so cool. The article is biased and one-sided, as most writing on technology in major news publications tends to be.

In the battle between My Space and Facebook it clearly comes down to one thing: the question of taste. Either you like to look at pages that are junky, cluttered, and annoying as all hell or you prefer clean, easy-to-read, and tasteful. That's it.

I've been around long enough to see that good taste usually wins in the end. Clearly the writer of this My Space propaganda wouldn't know good taste if it came up and shook her hand.

Nor would she know the kind of writing we should be seeing in Time. The last two lines of her story are, shall we say, less than Pulitzer winning.

And it pisses me off that I wasted my time reading her lousy article hoping for some bit of enlightenment or entertainment.

A Spoonful Weighs a Ton

Before I got pregnant with Brendan, I worked hard to get myself to a healthy weight, but what I didn't work hard enough on was actual physical fitness. I've always been a fairly healthy eater. I'm not a fan of fried foods, fast food, and junk, so eating healthy isn't a big deal to me. Sweets are my downfall, but I've found I can manage that temptation fairly well. 

However, I learned that all willpower can go out the window when you're pregnant and if you haven't been regularly and consistently working out before you get pregnant, you're not too likely to be able to start working out at any meaningful level once you are pregnant. Even a tiny amount in the quantity you eat with no increase in your activity level is going to translate into weight gain and while you should gain a healthy amount of weight – 25 to 30 lbs. if you're in the healthy range for your height, 15 to 20 lbs. if you're overweight – I know from experience that it's far too easy to gain more than you intend to during pregnancy.

My first bit of advice to anyone planning to lose weight before getting pregnant or trying to lose their baby weight would be to look at what you eat. Keep a food journal for a week and write down every bite that goes into your mouth. Every meal, every snack, every bit you pick or pluck off your toddler's plate. It all adds up. And don't forget what you drink. Every cup of juice (100 calories), every Coke (150 in a 12 oz. can), every cup of coffee with cream and sugar (120 calories), every latte (300 to 500 calories), every glass of wine or cocktail (90 to 200 calories).

Once you know what you're eating, then you can think about ways to make healthy changes and you can't remain in denial about what and how much you're eating.

Carry That Weight

I was recently talking with a friend who is thinking about getting pregnant. She asked me what my best piece of advice for her would be, what one thing she should know before getting pregnant. I don't think I even had to hesitate. My advice for her and for anyone undertaking pregnancy for the first time would be to get in shape. Get yourself as healthy as possible before you conceive because pregnancy is probably the hardest thing your body will ever do.

I'm not an expert in terms of any credentials I have, but I've seen two pregnancies through and I've done it both ways. I have more than a few thoughts on the subject and more than a little advice to offer.

So, I thought I might start sharing a few of the things that worked for me and the things that didn't. If I can help someone else avoid the esteem crushing battle I faced to lose weight following Brendan's birth, I am overjoyed to do so.

Rainy Days and Mondays

I love being inside on a cold rainy day with the only sounds I hear being the rain and the sound of the dryer, humming along all warm and cozy in the basement. Knowing I'm here alone except for the sleeping baby, it makes me feel productive. If I didn't have to go somewhere, I could get a lot done on a day like this.

Time to Kill

So, what I want to know is how does one make her life fit the alloted number of hours given? How do I possibly make all the things I want and/or need to do fit in one day? I am open to suggestions. Here's my list in no particular order:

Pray/meditate

Think and plan for the day/days ahead (to-do lists, calendars, etc.)

Blog

Write assigned articles

Write articles to pitch

Care for children(feed, clean, nurture)

Play with children (just be present and having fun with them; take them to do fun things)

Spend time with husband (being present and enjoying each other's company)

Work at new part-time marketing job

Cook

Clean house 

Laundry

Spend time with friends (by phone, e-mail, im, etc. if not in person--at least one a day)

Exercise

Shower, dress, try to look nice

These are all the things I need to fit into most days or at least my week somewhere. Obviously, some of the things are non-negotiable such as time spent with my family. Work. Exercise, for me, needs to be a priority. I'm just having trouble making it all work. I feel like I could literally get up at 5 a.m. and stay up until 1 a.m. trying to fit it all in, be exhausted, and still not get it all done.

Oh yeah. That seems to be part of my problem. I seem to really need my 6 hours of sleep a night and would take all I could get. I think if I could force myself to get up two hours before the kids I could knock out working out and showering/getting dressed. I just can't seem to force myself out of bed until I have to get up.

How do you manage your time and make it all work without feeling like you're neglecting someone?

Here Comes Santa Claus

We have a new word for the cute file.

Brendan just asked me how Santa gets down the jimby. I'm consistently amazed and confused how he can correctly pronounce and use like mischievous when most adults mispronounce it, but simple words often seem to be misheard and/or mispronounced. Still, jimby's a pretty cute mispronunciation even if I am biased.

Home Cookin'

Scott and I were supposed to host our neighborhood supper club last night. The group meets once a month and we take turns hosting. The hosts provide the entree and everyone else brings a side dish, appetizer, or dessert. We usually try to do a theme, although we're not super consistent with that. The idea really is simply to get together with our friends from the neighborhood without the kids and have a relaxing meal and good conversation.

Because both boys were sick all week and I had work, I wanted to reschedule, but one of the other couples offered up their home if I could still cook. Worked great for me, so I still got to make the dish I've been dying to make for ages.

It's a very old traditional Southern recipe called Chicken Country Captain. It's a curried chicken stew that is served over rice with a variety of condiments to put on top ranging from shredded coconut and chutney, to a yogurt sauce, green onions, chopped boiled egg, bacon, and toasted almonds and peanuts. It has always sounded so delicious to me and I've been eager to try it, but it's a lot of work and a big dish, so it's not something I've wanted to whip up on a Wednesday night.

I used Scott Peacock's recipe from what has become one of my favorite cookbooks.

But this recipe from Food and Wine is very similar. Peacock's recipe omits the mace. I just realized, too, that I failed to put in the bay leaves for which his recipe calls. Still, it turned into quite a nice dish. I received a lot of compliments on it. If you're not a fan of Indian curries, you probably won't like this, but I really enjoyed it.

Chicken Country Captain (from Food and Wine):

INGREDIENTS
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tablespoons sweet paprika
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
One 4-pound chicken, cut into 8 pieces
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 green bell peppers, finely chopped
1 large onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup minced flat-leaf parsley
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons curry powder
1/2 teaspoon ground mace
One 28-ounce can Italian tomatoes, chopped and juices reserved
1/2 cup chicken stock
1/4 cup dried currants
1/2 cup blanched whole almonds, lightly toasted and chopped
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 325°. In a shallow bowl, mix the flour with the paprika, 2 teaspoons of salt and 1/2 teaspoon of pepper. Dredge the chicken in the seasoned flour, shaking off any excess.
In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil until shimmering. Add half of the chicken and cook over moderately high heat until browned, about 8 minutes. Transfer to a plate. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil to the skillet and repeat with the remaining chicken.
Pour off the oil from the skillet, then melt the butter in it. Add the bell peppers, onion and parsley; cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables soften, 12 minutes. Add the garlic, curry powder and mace; cook, stirring, until fragrant, 4 minutes. Add the tomatoes, their juices and the stock; simmer over low heat for 15 minutes. Add the currants. Season with salt and pepper.
Transfer the sauce to a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish. Arrange the chicken on top, skin side up. Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes, or until the breasts are just cooked through. Transfer the breasts to a plate and cover loosely with foil. Bake the remaining chicken for 1 hour longer, or until tender and the sauce is thickened. Return the chicken breasts to the sauce and bake for 5 minutes longer, or until heated through. Sprinkle the almonds on top and serve.
MAKE AHEAD The baked chicken can be refrigerated overnight.

SERVE WITH Steamed white rice.

hindi sad diamonds

I have no idea how, but for some reason, when I changed fonts recently, the transliteration button got turned on and suddenly I could only type in Hindi. But, it took my sleep-deprived and addled brain over 24 hours to figure out why everything was displaying in Hindi. 

Yikes.

म्र्स। दल्लोवय

I have received some kind and helpful comments on my rant, like yours Renn. And a thoughtful and funny one. Thank you, Chris.

And I also got one, which I decided not to post, commenting on my anger issues. Dude, why do you think I blog?

Sarcasm aside, I blog for lots and lots of reasons. But, one of my primary reasons is to process the broad range of emotions – including anger – that being a parent and living this incredible life of mine stirs up in me.

I've made no secret of the fact that I have held onto issues from my childhood and that occasionally through my own act of mothering these things spring up.

Writing allows me to release those feelings in a healthy way. When I write a post like yesterday's, it's as if I'm huffing and puffing really hard to blow up a balloon and once I'm done, I pop the balloon and it goes flying around the room releasing all that anger and energy. And it's gone and I feel incredibly better and saner and can move on with my life. It's much like therapy, except that it's free. And I'm telling hundreds of complete strangers instead of just the one, highly-trained professional.

I realize every moment of every day, even in the midst of two sick kids, no sleep, and piles of laundry, how incredibly blessed I am. And I appreciate every moment of it, even if there are moments (like the whining) that try my patience. In fact, I constantly remind myself how fortunate I am to be here. In this time, this place, with the people in my life that God has chosen to lead me to or lead to me.

I have a loving and supportive husband who works incredibly hard to take care of us and allow me to be at home with our sons. I have two beautiful and generally healthy little boys.

I constantly remind myself that there are plenty of women in this world who have it a lot harder than I do. There are women who have given up serious careers to be at home with their kids. Women who want to be at home who can't. Women raising their children alone. Women who want children, but can't have them. Women who struggle for years to conceive, who have multiple miscarriages, who go through incredibly difficult pregnancies and risk their own lives to be able to hold a precious little baby in their arms. Women who wonder how they're going to feed their children the next meal. Women who are trying to protect their sons and daughters from war, torture, and the cruelties of the time and place where they live. Women who sit beside hospital beds tending their sick children who may never come home. Women who find themselves in the unimaginable situation of burying their children. I think about these things almost every day and feel guilty for every complaint or frustration that leaves my lips or crosses my mind.

I think about my friends who long to have warm, loving arms to hold them, a good and kind partner to share with and celebrate with and I know how blessed I am to be in love and be loved and to share my life with an amazing man.

But, I'd be lying and a fraud if I didn't admit that parenting is a challenge some times. And if I didn't have a forum for expressing the good and the bad in a healthy and civilized manner, it would come out somewhere, somehow.

I am thankful I have a means of expressing myself and the self-awareness to realize that I need to do so rather than pushing it all down beneath a veil of vodka tonics and valium or leading a life of silent misery like so many of our foremothers did.

Crazy

For anyone who doubts that lack of sleep can make you crazy, I give you the events of this morning as an example.

Admittedly, my lack of sleep is exacerbated by a level of stress I haven't felt in a while. However, not having gotten more than 4 hours or so a night of uninterrupted sleep since last Thursday has certainly made me a little crazy.

Anyway, as Scott was leaving for work this morning, suddenly the thought of being home alone in my messy house with two sick children who will whine a lot because they are sick was just more than I could stand and I ran out of the house behind Scott for one last hug, in tears, begging him to take me with him. I was only half joking.

It hasn't been as bad as I thought it might. I did have to fight Brendan a little on the albuterol and benadryl, but eventually got him to take them. Both boys napped for a couple of hours and I did a little work that needed to be done for my new client, and took care of a couple of items for Beckett's birthday party and now this.

Hopefully things don't fall apart in the afternoon.

That Was Your Mother

With both boys in bed (although admittedly, Beckett, who is cutting two new bottom teeth, is whining in his sleep and keeping me on edge in case he needs me to pick him up), Scott not home, and dinner in the oven, I thought I'd have something amazing to say.

Yet, the only thing that springs to mind is the fact that I realize I have achieved the ability to psychoanalyze myself. I'm guessing most of us have that ability but may not realize it.

Tonight, I was beating myself up for getting angry and frustrated with Brendan for refusing to take his medicine. He has the croup and the doc prescribed an Albuterol inhaler for him. She also told me to give him Benadryl for his runny nose and to help him sleep so that I could get some sleep after three nights in a row with barely any of the sweet stuff. Yesterday and last night he amazed me with how readily he let me administer both medications plus Tylenol Meltaways. He did better than he has ever done at taking medicine. He slept most of the night in his own bed, then after being awake for about an hour or so, came into our bed around 4 a.m. and slept there until 9 a.m. When he awoke he was a little whiny, but after a bath, he was practically his normal chipper, super active self. And he wasn't coughing. Yay.

It all fell apart about 5 p.m.

So, now, picking up where I left off last night at 8:19, I have been awake for most of the time since then. Scott got home, we had dinner, talked a bit, and then all hell broke loose. Teething baby awoke around 10 and was up until midnight at which point Brendan woke up crying and was awake every hour from that point on until 6:00 a.m. when he finally went to sleep and slept until almost 9 a.m.

Much of the night was spent battling him to use the inhaler and take his Benadryl. I was, at one point, wondering where he got all the extra arms and legs he was punching me with as I attempted to administer the inhaler. And I was furious.

I realized.... And this was the original point of my post...that Brendan's refusal to take medicine and his willingness to put up a physical fight infuriates me so much because it reminds me of my mother. She was, as I have mentioned before, a juvenile diabetic and had been on insulin since she was 13 years old. When I was 9, I learned how to give her shots because she would sometimes just decide she was tired of taking her insulin. I learned how to force open her mouth and give her sugar or orange juice when she was in insulin shock (low blood sugar). I learned that a knee in the chest can hold a person down, pretty much, unless she's so outraged and messed up by her illness that she doesn't recognize her own daughter and throws her to the ground. I learned that if you can tell that's about to happen, a knee to the throat can stop it.

What I learned last night as I was about to put my knee into my son's chest to force him to take his medicine is how angry I still am at my mom for being such a fucking brat and baby all her life. Just take the goddamned medicine. Nobody cares that you wish you were normal. So do the rest of us. Fuck you.

Just try to be normal. Is it that fucking hard? Take your goddamned medicine and don't expect your child to be the adult! Nobody wants to be sick and if you just take the fucking medicine you can be relatively normal. You jackass.

And so, I realized last night that a lot of my frustration and anger at Brendan for not getting with the program has roots that run long and deep. I just want him to take his medicine and be normal. I want him to learn that there are rules and that if you just follow the rules, life is so much easier. And happier. For everyone.

I got really angry at my Uncle T. a couple of weeks ago because I told him some Brendan anecdote and he said that Brendan sounded just like my mom. I was so mad I wanted to hang up on him, but I love him so I didn't. But last night I saw it for myself, whether it's really there or imagined from too little sleep. And it just makes me angrier. I've never wanted to break someone's spirit before, but I cannot tolerate a child who is as selfish and self-centered as my mother was. My grandparents never dared to break her; my grandfather spoiled and coddled her because she was sick. And I paid for that. I'll be damned if I'm going to let this child turn out the way that she did.

Sick or not, he's going to start towing the line.

Swan Dive

Here's how my week's shaping up...

Two sick kids. One wheezing and requiring breathing treatments a couple of times a day. One with a fever I can't get down.
One house in need of major, major cleaning. A dinner party we're supposed to host on Saturday night. A deadline looming on Friday. A new job I was supposed to have a final interview for today. A husband with a major deadline of his own at work who can't afford to get sick right now. And three nights in a row with little sleep.

I guess it could be worse.

At least we have Duke basketball tonight. Whoo-hooo.

Friends to Go

Well...now I know how the first runner-up in the Miss America pageant feels. Pretty good, but not as good as she would if she got the crown.

Seriously, I have no complaints today about my experience in the Diva for a Day competition. I had a ball. It was about the craziest thing I've done since Capping in college when my friends and I were forced by the seniors to sing On the Road Again but in the voices of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

The contest was a lot of fun. It was held at Shout in Midtown. There were eight contestants, all with really great reasons for deserving to be treated to a little luxury in life.

The first part of the competition was Diva Jeopardy. The categories were: fashion, cosmetic surgery, celebrity news, cosmetics, potpourri, Sex in the City, and jewelry. I did really well, only missing one question. Of course, while it was going on I didn't realize I was doing so well. I also felt like mysterious divine forces were at work for me, because almost all of the questions I got were things I had specifically researched because I thought they might be on there. So, when I was asked who Jackie Kennedy's exclusive designer was while she was First Lady, I was prepared with Oleg Cassini.

It was also fortuitous that one of the bits of SITC trivia fed to me by Lauren and Barrett before the game began was the name of Miranda's baby. That was the last question of the game and when the judge read it, I simply couldn't believe it! How lucky is that?

Winning at that portion of the contest, meant that I was one of three to advance to the second round which consisted of walking gracefully with a book on my head (hell no, I can't do that!), lip synching and dancing to a song of my selection, and then an interview question where they asked each of us why we deserved to win.

I chose the Madonna song Material Girl and did a pretty good job, I think.

I felt as if I pulled a Miss South Carolina on the interview question. It felt like I was rambling incoherently because I was trying to figure out what I could say that could possibly compete with the statement by the girl who went before me. She talked about how she's a breast cancer survivor and all I could think was a) I can't compete with that and b) I don't want to. Just give her the crown, man. She deserves it.

And so it was.

I had a ball and I honestly feel like I did win because I had the biggest crowd there to support me. I had about a dozen of my friends there, all wearing boas and with signs they made, cheering me on. Scott wore a fuzzy purple hat and was as supportive and loving of his crazy wife as anyone could hope her husband would be. The only other time I have felt so special and loved by so many people was on my wedding day. It's a special and amazing and humbling feeling and it means so much more to me than any prize ever could. I am a lucky girl, indeed.

Trying My Luck

As if my life weren't strange and exciting and wonderful enough right now...

I have been chosen as one of eight finalists for Dave FM's Diva for a Day contest. Dave is a local radio station that I listen to in the mornings when I'm taking Brendan to school. They have a couple of really fun DJs whom I like. I just really enjoy the station when I'm not listening to my iPod. I especially like a midday segment that Mara Davis does called Radio Free Lunch. It's a theme hour, a different theme everyday with listener suggestions, and always really fun to hear. I've actually contributed a song suggestion to the show. (One day the theme was about obnoxious people using their cell phones and I suggested the 'Til Tuesday song Voices Carry.)

The contest required entrants to explain, in 100 words or less, why they felt they deserved to be Diva for a Day. I heard about the contest Wednesday morning and the deadline for entries was Friday. I immediately forgot about it, but remembered right after getting up on Thursday morning. So, in the brief silence before both boys awoke that morning, I sat down and entered the contest. I wrote on the fly and while I remember the theme and gist of what I wrote, I can't repeat it as eloquently.

The second part of the contest will pit the eight finalists against one another in a Jeopardy-like competition on fashion, makeup, and "Diva-y" things according to Mara. She actually called me in person to tell me and when I answered the phone and she said, "Hi, Dawn. This is Mara Davis from Dave FM," it took a minute for me to realize why she was calling. Like she just calls me up all the time to chat. Her son just turned one, we both love music, so theoretically, we could have a lot in common.

There's also a Diva Olympics portion of the contest, I think she said. Of course, I have no clue what that will entail. I'm a bit nervous. But, my friend Barrett made me an awesome, fantastic, super-cool Diva study guide. I'm pleased that I knew most of what was on there, meaning, I have a chance anyway.

So, cross your fingers for me. It sure would be fun to win. Of course, just having this experience is fun and exciting. I've decided I'm going to simply enjoy it rather than judge myself for doing it.

Caravan: Review of the 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan

If you had told me, just 8 days ago, that I would soon be yearning to drive a minivan, I would have looked at you as if you were a fool. However, driving a brand new 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan was life changing in the literal sense that it made the part of my life that involves loading two squirmy boys (one of them, increasingly tall and heavy) into my car each day infinitely easier. When the couriers came to take it away yesterday, I actually felt sad. I jokingly told Scott that he would be getting a call from the local SWAT team alerting him that his wife had locked herself inside the minivan and was holding people at bay with a kitchen knife.

I really loved it and I promise that if I didn’t love it, or found it to be a poor performer, I would be honest with you. So, if you care, if you find yourself in the market for a new minivan, read on…

The 2008 DGC, comes in two trim models – the SE or the SXT – and three powertrain choices: a 4.0-liter, V-6 aluminum engine with a six-speed transmission, capable of producing up to 240 hp with 253 lb-ft of torque; a 3.8-liter, V-6, six-speed that produces 197 hp; and the base model 3.3-liter, V-6, flex-fuel engine capable of 175 hp. The flex-fuel powertrain is only available on the base model.

I had the opportunity to drive the 4.0 liter, V-6. It…packs a punch. I was pleasantly surprised by how much power this thing has. It definitely outperformed my Santa Fe. My 6-year old Santa Fe which still kicks a little driving boo-tay.

I’ll be honest, the thing that most surprised me about the Grand Caravan was the way it handled. It drives as smooth as glass. The ride felt like that of a luxury car. It takes corners confidently with none of that SUV-induced sense of toppling over unless you’re driving 20 mph. On dry surfaces, it’s quick and smooth off the line. I easily took a couple of Odysseys and a Sienna without even trying. However, on wet pavement, it did not perform as well off the line and seemed to have some traction control issues.


Apparently, there is some controversy over the styling of ’08 Grand Caravan. A lot of folks just think it’s plain ugly. I, on the other hand, think it’s the best looking of all the minivans with the exception of the Quest. I’ve heard really negative things about the Quest, though, in terms of quality and apparently it hasn’t sold well. It’s also a bit more expensive than some of the other minivans on the market. I’m a fan of Dodge and Chrysler’s particular brand of styling. I like the edginess of models like the 300 and the Magnum and I honestly think the Grand Caravan picks up a lot of its styling cues from the Magnum – long straight lines, a boxy feel. And I will say this, call it ugly all day long, but I think it shows more personality than the Odyssey (no offense Odyssey drivers). I will say that I have a bias against Hondas even though they’re known for their reliability. I just think that a company once known for well-considered, innovative design (anyone remember the CRX or the Acura Integra?) has lost all credibility on that front, turning out really safe and reliable, but bland, boring cars for the masses. And that’s okay. Someone has to do that.

The interior is, naturally, roomy. The leather seats are comfortable and nice. I love the captain’s chairs for driver and passenger. The second row captain’s chairs are nice and they do rotate to face the third row. The Dodge Grand Caravan comes with a table that can be installed between the second and third rows. Passengers can use the table for… something…I guess. It seems impractical for use while driving, although it would be awesome on a camping trip or for tailgating.

I love the power-sliding side doors and the power lift tailgate. Very nice when you have a 25-lb. baby in your arms. However, I was warned that you should alternate between opening them manually and with the remote so that you don’t wear out the motor. Not exactly confidence-inspiring and I was honestly surprised to hear that.

The coolest thing about the Grand Caravan is probably the My Gig entertainment system. Wow. So not necessary, but so nice. It has Sirius satellite radio and TV, a DVD player, you can upload your music to the system’s hard drive, and of course, it has standard AM/FM radio. The satellite TV is nice, but, it’s not like most of our kids need to watch more TV. However, if you’re on a long trip and you want to keep the kids entertained, but don’t want to fool with dvd’s, then it’s kind of nice to have. You have to be careful, though. There are three channels offered: Nickelodeon, Disney, and Cartoon Network. There’s a lot of programming on Nick and CN that I find objectionable and the listings that are supposed to be available don’t always show up, so you don’t always know what’s on unless (unlike me) you can get the dashboard screen activated to see what’s on or your kids tell you what’s on. Brendan’s very honest, but I can see how a 6-year old might fib to Mom in order to get her to leave it on the channel he wants to see.

Speaking of the in-dash screen, I loved having the rearview camera. It instantly activates when you put the car in reverse. Now that I’m at an elementary school twice a day with kids running everywhere, I am hyper paranoid about running over a child. This eased that fear a good bit. You still need to check your mirrors and proceed cautiously, but it’s just one more tool in the safety arsenal.

Now, what didn’t I like about the GC? Well, the devil is certainly in the details when it comes to car design, and clearly the user interface designers and engineers either aren’t being listened to at Dodge or they simply don’t have any on staff.

Admittedly, some of these complaints probably relate to being used to my own car’s functionality and placement of shifters, buttons, knobs, etc. in my own car, but a lot of these are just someone’s failure to think about how people think and use tools.

In my Santa Fe, turn signals, wiper controls for front and rear, and the controls for the lights are all on two separate clickers on the steering column. You never have to reach for anything other than the radio controls, the fog lights (a push button), the rear window defrost, and the heat/ac. All of those buttons and knobs are on center panel to the right of the steering wheel. All easily within reach and intuitive in their functionality.

The controls for the Grand Caravan don’t make any sense at all and they’re spread all over the place. My goodness, it drove me nuts. First, the gear shift is on the dash. This, apparently, is a throwback to a ‘60s Dodge concept that failed. I can’t remember the specific vehicle (a ’67 work van, maybe?) that had this, but no one liked it, so they reverted to the steering column gear shift before evolving to the floor/center console shifter.

After several days of reaching to the center console to shift, I got used to. So much so, that even yesterday in my SF, I was reaching to the dash to put the car in drive.

There were a few things I really hated about the Grand Caravan. First, were the placement of the lights and the way they worked and were labeled. The lights are activated by turning a knob that is on the lower part of the dash, to the left of the steering column. Fine. Hard to reach and you have to sort of look for it to see if you’re actually turning on the lights, the running lights, or the option labeled “A”, which made no sense, meaning you’re taking your eyes off the road. The other aspect I hated about the lights was that to activate your brights, you just push in on the knob that turns the lights on. However, if you apply the least amount of pressure to that knob as you’re turning on the lights, you’ve just blinded anyone coming toward you. Bad, poorly considered design.

Next, I hated the key fob remote. It was backwards. If you pointed the remote at the vehicle (as most of us are wont to do, I think) when you were opening the doors, the button that opened the driver side rear sliding door was on the left of the key fob (opposite what is intuitive) and the button that opens the passenger side door is on the right of the key fob as you’re aiming it at the car. Yes, there are little pictures on the fob indicating which is which, but really? Do I want my user to have to look at a diagram or simply be able to do what is logically right and what feels right to sense and muscle memory? It really bugged the heck out of me that they designed it this way. Clearly no thought went into how a real person uses a key fob remote.

The last two things that really irked me are minor and my own quirks, but I’ll share them anyway. First, I am an adult and I can decide if I want to take my life in my own hands by choosing not to wear my seatbelt. Dodge (like our paternalistic government) doesn’t see it that way and they choose to have an obnoxious bell ding every 10 seconds or so, over the radio, to let you know that you’re breaking the law by not wearing your seat belt. I hate that. It’s just obnoxious and unnecessary. I often don’t wear my seatbelt if I’m just tooling around the neighborhood, but if I leave the relative safety of my neighborhood and venture onto a road with stripes, I put it on. And my kids are always buckled. I don’t need Dodge telling me to buckle up especially over my music.

And finally, and maybe most annoying, there was no tape player so I couldn’t listen to my iPod. I could have uploaded my music, but not all of it, and the process for doing so was tedious and involved and I just didn’t want to bother with it.

Overall, though, I really liked it. I’d probably buy one without comparing it to other minivans because it made my life so much easier for one week that I have the warm fuzzies for it. I can’t believe what a difference it made to my life not having to lift Brendan into the car or having to lean in with a door jutting out to strap Beckett in.

It was a lovely experience and if asked, I would definitely recommend this car to anyone looking to trade style for space, practicality, and function.

All This and More

So much to write about and so little time. Hopefully I will have time for a couple of detailed posts later to cover the following topics:

Why and how I've been converted to the darkside

Beckett's burgeoning skills and our plans for his birthday party

Writing projects (and how you might be able to help)

Brendan's new interest in reading and all the cool things he knows

Halloween fun

Right now, I have so much going on, I feel as if I am in a whirlpool, getting sucked deeper and deeper down, far away from a place where I feel like I'm in control of anything in my life. I wish I could stop time and just get it together for a minute.

I Get Around

After only one day and a half of driving the Grand Caravan*, I am well on my way to being converted. That said, I don't know if I could drive just any minivan. This one is special.

Not that I have any experience driving minivans or have a lot to compare this thing to.

It is very comfortable though. Very.

*In the interest of full disclosure, I just want to remind y'all that I am a volunteer test marketer for Dodge. Their marketing company solicited me because a) I'm right smack-dab in the middle of their core demographic for this product, and b)**I write a blog and have a forum to share my thoughts on the product. Which I seem perfectly willing to do. I'm not getting paid to do this, so trust me...I will be completely honest in my feedback.

**I was tempted to write a) then 2), but I was afraid my joke would flop and y'all would think that I was the kind of person who really would say that.

The Little Old Lady from Pasadena

In an alternate universe – the one where I have a doting Daddy who adores me – I got a '64 1/2 Mustang convertible when I turned 16. At 19, in my little fantasy world, Dad and I bought a '65 Fastback that we restored together.

In my mind, I am Barbara Ann. I'm that girl in the T-Bird. I am meant to be driving a muscle car. If I could have and drive any car I wanted, it probably would be this one. And, if not a muscle car, then perhaps something a little rugged like this or quirky like this.

Because I have this vision of who I am beneath the suburban mommy exterior, the idea of driving a minivan kills me. I tend to see minivans as soulless grocery-getters for boring, unimaginative sheep. As my friend Chuck Kaste once put it, Satan drives a minivan.

But, all that said, I'm not at a time in my life where a Shelby Cobra makes a lot of sense and I don't really need an amphibious vehicle. I am at a time in my life where I need a vehicle that can accommodate two child safety seats, and once in a while, haul around various other adults, luggage, pieces of furniture, power tools, untold bags of groceries, soccer equipment, a large dog, bikes and ride-on toys, and keep everyone comfortable in the process.

I don't need a living room on wheels, but most minivans these days seem to strive to be just that. Including the one I'll be driving for the next week. Nope, there's no Super Stock Dodge in my garage. Just a 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan SXT.

I'll be driving it as part of a test marketing effort to get feedback for Dodge. For someone who loves cars as much as I do, it seemed like a really fun and interesting opportunity. I'll write up a review and give them my feedback when I'm done. In the meantime, I'll let you know what I think as I drive it this week. If you care...

The House at Pooh Corner

Hey, Atlanta parents. Here's a deal for you. You can see a production of a Winnie the Pooh story at the Center for Puppetry Arts tomorrow and Friday for just $5 per person. Ticket prices are usually around $15 per person.

For what my opinion is worth, Brendan's class went on a field trip to see this and he really loved it and he's not especially into the Pooh at all.

Here's the deal:

See Winnie-the-Pooh THIS Thursday or Friday for $5!

Due to unforseen circumstances, we have tickets to sell for
OCTOBER 18th & 19th, 2007!
Mention this e-mail and get all your tickets for JUST $5! (Not valid with any other offer, subject to availability)

This classic tale by A.A Milne is sure to captivate your children and warm your heart too! There are no villains here, just friends helping friends as Eeyore loses his tail, Piglet looks for a Heffalump and Pooh takes a balloon ride through the sky . Don't miss these timeless tales of friendship. Hunny anyone? More>
Showtimes: Thursday, October 18th & Friday, October 19th @ 10 & 11:30am
Tickets: $5! Includes performance, Create-A-Puppet Workshop & Museum Admission

To reserve your seats using this Special Offer, call our Ticket Sales Office today at 404.873.3391 and mention this e-mail!
Winnie-the-Pooh is sponsored by LeapFrog.

Produced by special arrangement with THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY of Woodstock, Illinois.

See you at the Center!

Better by the Pound

One of the most fascinating things about being a parent is the manner in which you quickly become an expert on things you only need to know about for a relatively brief period.

For four years now, I've been relatively obsessed and opinionated about diapers and pull ups. I know more about the subject than I ever cared to know or imagined I would. It began when Scott and I were debating the pros and cons of disposables vs. cloth diapers. We came down on the side of disposables because I, ultimately, decided I didn't want to be chained to the washing machine and because the jury's still out on which has a worse environmental impact. And, of course, now in Georgia with the water crisis we're facing, disposables make a lot of sense.

Ever since making that decision, I have tried every diaper on the market. Okay. Not every diaper. But certainly all of the major brands and most store brands. When Brendan was a newborn, I started going through all the diapers we received at showers. First, I tried the Pampers. Hated them. They had a really overpowering perfumey smell that made me sick, especially when mixed with other smelly things.

Next, I tried Luvs. Too leaky. Finally, I tried Huggies and had a winner. I stuck with that brand for a while, but then got lured into trying store brands to save money, but I couldn't stand the chemical smell and plastic feel of the store brands. I figured if it was uncomfortable for me to touch them just to put one on, it had to be misery-making for a baby. I went back to the Huggies brand and stuck with it until Brendan was potty-trained.

Of course, every baby's different and I've found that what worked on Brendan hasn't necessarily worked for Beckett. Huggies have been the leakiest on Beckett by far. I've found myself almost exclusively using Pampers which no longer have that disgusting perfumey fragrance. Unfortunately, I didn't even give Luvs a chance this time. That is until I got an unsolicited sample pack in the mail a couple of weeks ago.

I say sample pack, but it was actually a full-size 42-diaper pack of Luvs new Bear Hug Stretch diapers. And I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised. Both to receive free diapers in the mail (because, really, as a mom to a baby is there anything more exciting than free diapers?) and by how great they were for my baby.

As I said, every baby's different and these diapers really seemed to fit Beckett well. He has chunky legs and I've heard that he looks like the Michelin Man on more than one occasion. I had been buying diapers one size above his weight range just to get them to fit around his thighs without cutting into his sweet legs. The Luvs Bear Hug Stretch, though, have some extra give and stretch in the legs and provided what seemed to be a much more comfortable fit (hence the name, I suppose). And, because they were the right size, there was no bunching in the bottom or around the waist.

I didn't have any leaking problems with them. No weird smell. The only thing I didn't like was that sometimes the tabs tore off when I was trying to fasten the diaper. That was frustrating, but overall I was really pleased and decided I should give these diapers a chance. We'll have to see how it pans out in the long run...If Luvs can go the distance with my chunky boy.

All this said, I would like to give one piece of advice to the Luvs ad agency and/or marketing department. Your commercial with the little boy humping his teddy bear is awful. It creeps me out.

Other than that, I've turned the corner on your product and will definitely be buying Luvs in the future. Good work on the changes.

(Hay)Ride

Brendan's school had its fall break this weekend, meaning the kids were out of school on Friday and today. So, my friend Tara and I took our kids to a pumpkin patch in North Georgia. We had a ball.

We picked out our pumpkins and I bought some homemade pumpkin bread and some of Scott's favorite, pumpkin butter.

I also bought an inexpensive scarecrow and several small pumpkins and gourds and Indian corn to use as decorations. Brendan has been hounding me for Halloween decorations for a few weeks now. He's finally happy.

We also went on a hayride. It was a gorgeous day...perfect for a hayride. The kids loved it. I'm glad we went.

Crazy Love

I've never been one to come to the aid of friends who were throwing up. I've always been a bit weak of the stomach when it comes to bodily functions. In college, I never held anyone's hair out of her face while she hurled and I never expected anyone to do that for me. Although, I don't think it was necessary more than once or twice anyway.

Blood doesn't bother me in the least. But I don't do vomit very well. I got my fill taking care of my mom and grandmother. It seems like my mom was constantly getting sick because of some diabetic complication or the other and my grandmother died of stomach cancer so she was sick a lot the last few months of her life. I took a several week leave from high school to help care for her because we couldn't afford a nurse. I've dealt with blood, vomit, bloody vomit, poop, feeding tubes, and all kinds of crazy sick-room gross-outs.

Still, I've found myself getting furious with people for vomiting near me and found myself embarrassed by getting sick near others.

Yet, I've discovered, as I'm sure any of you who are parents have, that the nature of vomit totally changes when the person getting sick is your child. I never, in a million years, would have imagined that someone could not only get sick near me, but ON me and I wouldn't want to throw them through a window. But it has happened.

Friends, on Saturday night my darling baby boy was sick. Friday night, he developed a high fever, but had no other symptoms. On Saturday, he still seemed like he felt a little puny, but was otherwise fine and the fever was gone. Unfortunately, it all went down hill after he went to bed on Saturday night.

About 10 p.m., he woke up crying. When I went into his room, I knew instantly that he had thrown up because the lovely aroma hit me in the face as soon as I opened his door. Poor little guy.

So, I took him out of his crib, got a tub of water, and gave him a sponge bath on his changing table. Then, as I was carrying him over to his dresser to get some fresh jammies, he threw up all over the front of my sweater. I was calm. No problem. It's all part of being a mommy, I told myself. I hugged him and told him it was okay and he'd be fine.

After getting the jammies out, I took him back to the changing table to start again. I decided to take off my yucky, soaking wet sweater and t-shirt and finish the job in my bra and jeans. Everything's going fine and I've got him clean and ready to go. Then, just as I lift him up so I can get his pjs on him, the poor little dude hurls on me again. This time directly onto flesh and straight down into the waist of my jeans. I am, at this point, covered in hot, lumpy, orange baby vomit from my neck to my groin. Fun stuff on a Saturday night.

Somehow, Beckett managed not to get a drop on himself, so I carried him and his clean pjs downstairs to Scott and took a quick shower and put on my pjs. I was gone about 10 min. and in that time, Beckett managed not to throw up on his dad. So, I settle in on the couch with the sick groggy baby on my lap. I've never seen him so sad. He's always such a happy guy and usually so independent. It was unusual for him to want to fall asleep on me, but that's just what he was doing, when all of a sudden, he threw up again. On my nice, comfy, clean pajamas.

It's just strange and amazing to me, though, that my overriding emotions were sympathy and sadness. I just wanted to make him feel better and figure out why he was sick. When I've had to deal with sickies in the past, who weren't my children, even if I felt bad for them, I've always been kind of annoyed even if it wasn't their fault they were ill. Who knew a mother's love could abide such an abundance of gross?

I guess I do now.

Homebrew

Scott played a really great show last Wednesday night. The venue was really cool, but unusual. It was a local brewery, Atlanta Brewing Company.

On Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays they do brewery tours and tastings and have live music. It's a really neat idea. Just brilliant marketing. For the brewery and the musician. The shows are run by the owner/president of a local label with an impressive list of artists, so the music is far better than what you might expect for free.

The crowd was pretty big and reasonably attentive for an alcohol-fueled event. A lot of our friends came out which is always fun. And appreciated. My friend Josie – whom I haven't seen since 1992 – even came out with her fiance. That was pretty neat. Her fiance compared Scott to Neil Young. Always a nice compliment for a singer-songwriter.

ABC is ATL's oldest microbrewery and makes Red Brick Ale. I had had Red Brick and it's fine. Not awesome, but good enough.

At the tasting, I tried two of their other beers and decided I like beer again. If you're a beer drinker and can find either of these in your area, I strongly urge you to give them a try. The first is the Red Brick Blonde. It's very light and refreshing with a real clean palate. Nice. An excellent spring and summer beer.

The second I never would have expected to enjoy as much as I did. I like dark beer, but I've never been able to finish a Guinness. As Scott has so charmingly put it on many an occasion, "Drinking a Guinness is like drinking a loaf of bread." And we're both Irish. So, that's sayin' something about my particular tastes.

But, to my point, ABC's Double Chocolate Oatmeal Porter was amazing. If you like coffee, you'll love it. It has a rich, creamy coffee flavor with a strong chocolate aroma. There's no bitterness and best of all, it's not super-heavy. I wouldn't want it every day, but as a treat once in a while, it's pretty nice. Nothing like a loaf of bread. At all.

If you're in the Atlanta area, you should definitely go check the place out sometime. Give the beers a try and support a working musician.

Angie

Every now and then I overhear things as I'm walking through a store or Brendan's school. Things that make me chuckle or ponder what on Earth the speaker is talking about.

The other day I heard one that made me want to laugh out loud. In fact, I had a self-induced coughing fit to hide my amusement. Every time I think about it, I can hear it plain as day in the speaker's deep, booming voice and find myself laughing.

So, I'm at Publix, rushing through to grab a few things I need for dinner, hoping to make it out of the store before both boys melt down. It's late afternoon and I know I'm pushing my limits with them.

As I'm heading for the check-out, I notice a man and woman standing at the end of an aisle. From the way she's smiling at him and their body language, I'm pretty sure he's hitting on her and she likes it. She seems to be Hispanic and the guy could be any of 10 different ethnicities. But as I get even with them, I hear him say, Oh no. I'm Angelo Saxon.

What else is there to say?

I just wish I had been able to stick around and hear the woman's response.

Monkey to Man

I just stumbled on this fascinating blog. I want to keep reading it, but I just don't have time right now. Anyway, I thought I'd share. I love stuff like this.

Sleepless Nights

Yay for sleep!

It's so underrated and under appreciated by the young and childless and those who just happen to be blessed with little need of it.

I got almost 6 hours of the good stuff last night. Of course, the last two hours were fragmented due to little boys waking up while it was still dark outside and when I was asleep I was having horrible dreams. But, still, it's so much more than I've gotten the last two nights.

Thursday night/Friday morning Brendan had an asthma attack at 4 a.m. after I'd only been asleep for four hours and we never made it back to sleep. Then Friday night, I got a second wind that kept me up talking with Scott until 2 a.m. Both boys were then awake yesterday morning at 5 a.m. and even though I tried to nap yesterday, it was never for more than 15 minutes at a time because I kept getting woken up.

I hate myself when I'm exhausted. I'm crabby. Edgy and dull. Dim witted. Snappish and surly.

I wonder if anyone has ever examined postpartum depression and any resulting abuses as they relate to lack of sleep. I have never physically struck out at my kids and never would, but I know that I certainly have far less patience on days when I don't get enough sleep. And it's on those days that I can see how some parents who have fewer resources and coping skills might totally lose it. I'm not excusing anyone for anything, but when I'm worn out and feeling ill and contrary, I can see how it all just might fall apart in a split second.

Sleep is a miracle drug.

This morning, I feel like a new woman. Rested. Cheerful. Ready for the day.

And looking forward to nap time...for all of us.

You Dropped a Bomb on Me (Baby)

It looks as though someone at the Pentagon is listening.

All these years protestors have been chanting Make Love, Not War! And finally, the Air Force took them seriously.

Now, if we could only get the government to listen when we ask for something important, like say, healthcare for our children. Maybe in another 40 years or so.

A Question Mark

Every now and then when I'm looking at Google Analytics, trying to figure out some way to increase my traffic, trying to figure out what I write about that gets the most attention, I find myself both confused and tickled at some of the search queries that lead here.

For instance, I have recently had people searching for:

blonde twins at Alabama game -- I know of whom they search, too. They're pretty cute and always wear Bear Bryant hats.

barnes and noble employee rant -- among several other barnes and noble queries. This leads to a post I wrote almost two years ago. I recently got a rather rude and obnoxious comment about the post. Dude, get over it. I'm sorry you hate your job. But you're clearly only 16 or so and there will be other jobs. Unless you don't change that attitude.

hyperthyroid pork -- Uh. WTF? Anyone hazard a guess? Could that be oxymoronic? I am befuddled.

And my favorite:

why not to sleep with awesome -- Why not, indeed! If he truly is awesome, I say go for it.

My Hometown

I stumbled on this. No one will care, but it made me nostalgic.

I hated growing up there. Couldn't wait to leave. But sometimes...I miss my hometown.

You Gotta Feel It

Sometimes my heart aches and breaks and I feel crushed beneath the weight of emotion when I think about Brendan. He's my darling, intensely feeling child. I swear he lives and breathes with every fibre of his being. He's sensitive beyond what any one person should have to endure and I often find myself thinking about Wordsworth's poem:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The Winds that will be howling at all hours;
And are gathered up now like sleeping flowers –
For this, for everything, we are out of tune.
It moves us not.
Great God! I would rather be
A Pagan, suckled in a creed outworn,
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blowing his wreathed horn.

I guess I feel like Brendan is so connected to this Earth, so present to every moment of his life, unlike 99 percent of us. He feels everything so deeply, the joy and the pain. I worry about the pain. I worry when he takes responsibility for the pain and well-being of others.

Of course I want him to care about other people, especially his brother. But I worry when he worries about protecting others. And of course, when he hurts, I hurt. And he seems to hurt very deeply.

He sat in my lap and cried for 30 minutes yesterday when I told him about Mao. I'm actually thankful he reacted that way, really. It shows that he has the ability to love animals and understands they are important parts of our families. I think his reaction in that instance is perfectly normal.

But I worry about his reaction to other things over which he has no control. He overheard a news story about a day care center in Tennessee that was closed by the state after investigators found a 4-month old boy with a pacifier taped in his mouth. I don't generally let Brendan watch the news, but I was watching CNN at 6:00 a.m. when he wandered into the room and heard the story. The reporter stated that the boy might have died had they not arrived when they did. Brendan was very upset and asked why someone would do that.

How do you explain that one?

Several days later he came back to me and asked me what he should do if one of their babysitters ever taped a pacifier to Beckett's mouth and locked him in the bathroom! He was so worried.

Naturally, I explained that we know all of our sitters very well and they're all friends of our family and he should never worry about that. I told him that if a sitter ever did anything wrong or told him not to tell his parents about something that happened that he should tell us no matter what. Then, he asked if he could call me if we weren't home and tell me and got all worried over not knowing how to use the phone. It was so very sad.

I promised I would teach him to use the phone. (As an aside, I have tried teaching him before, but he has shown zero interest up until this point.) I told him not to worry and that no one we know would do that sort of thing -- that only bad people would do something like that. And I thought we were okay.

Then, the day before yesterday, he asked me if bad guys have mommies. When I said that they did, he freaked out! I mean, on the floor kicking and screaming, "No! No! No! Bad guys don't have mommies. I don't want them to have mommies!"

It just broke my heart.

What do you do with a little guy who is so sensitive? How does he survive in this world? This big ugly, scary, heartbreaking world?

Never Enough

After 10 years with us, our sweet kitty boy, Mao, has reached the end of his life. He's nearly blind. He has arthritis. He has a hyperthyroid condition, that despite treatment, has caused him to lose weight until he only weighs 5 1/2 pounds. He rarely seeks out affection. And, he has little control over his bodily functions.

At 10:30 a.m. today, I will take him to our vet who will then euthanize him.

I am so sad.

I know he's a cat. I understand that death is a natural part of the life cycle. I know he had a good life, at least the part of it he spent with us. He was 4 or 5 years old by the time he wandered up to our house and decided he wanted to stay.

I know all that. I know that it's cruel to keep him alive at this point.

But I will miss him. I'll miss the way it looked like he was smiling when he was sitting in my lap getting loved on. I'll miss his polite and silent meow when I was working in the kitchen and he wanted me to feed him. I'll miss seeing him curl up beside Brendan or go up to Cooper, our 65 lbs. German shepherd and sniff his nose.

He was the best cat I've ever known and I've had cats in my life since I came into this world. Okay. The tears are making it hard to write any more. You get the idea. I loved my cat. He's sick. I have to put him to sleep and it's not a fun or easy thing to do.

Goodbye, Mao. You were a good and true friend.

Piggies

Every good and true Southerner has his or her favorite barbecue joint. And naturally, an opinion on the best style of barbecue and the best kind of sauce (or rub, as the case may be).

I'm a fan of the western style of North Carolina barbecue, although, being from Tennessee, I have a real soft place in my heart for a Memphis dry rub. Of course, a rub is only good on ribs and chicken and I do prefer a good pulled pork sandwich any day to ribs.

So, I thought I'd try my hand at making a little pulled pork for supper tonight. We have soccer practice at 6:30, so I wanted to try something I could throw in ye olde crock pot and have waiting for us when we got home. Here's the recipe I'm using, although, I added my own enhancement by using a dry rub on the pig before throwing it in the cooker. I just don't know how non-smoked pork will turn out, so I thought it would probably want a little extra seasoning.

We'll see.

But right now my kitchen smells pretty good, y'all.

Shake It Like a Polaroid Picture

Check it, y'all! Scott sent me this earlier today and I'm really digging it.

You Pull My Strings

I love this song so much, I have to share this. Check out this live version of one of Scott's newest songs, You Pull My Strings.

This was recorded at the Inman Perk show a few months ago. It sounds fantastic.

I Get Weak

There are just moments of pure bliss in this life. Rare, fleeting moments, but moments so amazing the beauty of them can feed your soul for days or weeks, even, as long as you choose to hold onto them and allow their purity to infuse your being.

Last night I had the great fortune to live one of those moments.

While Scott played guitar in preparation for his next show, I lay on the floor sorting through pictures from Brendan's soccer game, just enjoying the music. A couple of songs in, Brendan comes out of his room and stands outside our doorway, listening. When he saw me peeking around the door at him, he smiled the biggest smile and ran to me, arms outstretched. I asked him why he wasn't in bed and he said, very seriously, because I just love you and wanted to be with you. I put him back to bed and returned to my laptop. After about 10 minutes, I hear his door open. A surprisingly lengthy time later – maybe 30 seconds – he appears at our door, but doesn't come in. Again, I ask why he's not in bed, and he very sweetly and shyly says, "Well, Mommy, I just love you so much and I really want to be here with you and I just can't control myself.

He was so very earnest and sweet. I held my arms out and he threw himself into them and gave me the biggest, sweetest hug.

I know he was playing me, a bit, wanting to stay up past his bedtime and hear his daddy play guitar. I know he was just curious about what goes on after he's asleep. But it still melted my heart and made me feel incredibly blessed. Looking at Scott and Brendan and seeing how much alike they are, my heart felt like it would burst from the overflowing of love I felt for my beautiful husband and this amazing little child we made together.

Sometimes, I feel like the weight of my love for Scott and our sons will crush me all the while it sustains me. I spend so much time worrying about them, worrying about losing their love, worrying about not being worthy of their love in some way.

Maybe that's why these moments when I am simply in the moment, feeling and being, and not doing anything seem so beautiful and prized.

I mean ultimately, I know that my fears are meaningless. I need to simply be in this life and enjoy every moment of it, the beauty and the mess of it all.

Volvo Driving Soccer Mom

soccer
Originally uploaded by belleoftheblogATL

Well, lo and behold, if we didn't have our very first soccer game ever this weekend. It was so much fun! I had no idea how much fun it could be to watch a bunch of four-and-five-year olds chasing a ball around a field.

Brendan had a great time and our team...My goodness they were so cute it hurt. But not just cute. They were good!

I mean we have some very good players on our team of four girls and two boys. We've got "Jet" and "Gigi", blonde twins who are quick and scrappy. Their little sister, Noey, who just beams and could be their triplet. Then there's Brendan who, having never played soccer before at all, jumped right into the fray, and had a great time.

Then there's Isaac. This kid has a foot. I mean just a really great player.

We won. By a lot. Our kids scored six goals, I think, to the other team's two. In fairness, they only had three players who showed up for the game and it was hot. One of their players, the only girl on the team, stopped a few minutes into the second half and just stood on the field crying. The coaches stopped the game and we sent two of our players over to play on the other team. We spent the rest of the game rotating players around, although I think we only ever had two of our players on their team at one time.

Toward the end of the game, our team stepped back and let the little girl who cried score a goal. She looked so very happy afterward.

All in all it was great fun and it really made me happy and proud to see my little guy trying so hard and having such a good time. Hopefully he continues to enjoy it and it turns out to be a positive experience for all the kids involved.

Androgynous

For the last two months or so, I've been working with a physical trainer. I've been working out almost daily and eating more consciously. I've always been what I think of as a healthy eater, but I've been actually thinking about whether or not I'm getting enough protein, enough iron, the right number of fruits and veggies in a day, looking at portion size, etc.

Finally, I'm beginning to actually like my body. And while I'm not quite ready for skinny jeans, I did look in the mirror the other day and think, Hey! I look kind of skinny.

I haven't thought that since I was 22. Okay. 23 might be when I started putting on the pounds. And after two babies in four years. I was feeling like I needed to regain control of my body. And I have. And I'm happy about it. And I'm excited about the prospect of wearing clothes I like. Pretty, girly, sexy clothes that say I'm as much a woman and a wife as I am a mommy. Not that I was ever one to wear frumpy sweats all day or something. It's just that I felt less than gorgeous in even my cutest clothes.

So, just when I'm excited about wearing the latest trends, the fashion world goes all Annie Hall and gives me this crap. All I can say is yuck and double yuck!

One Big Holiday

I thought that once school began, I would become a blogging fool. Unfortunately, (or maybe it's actually a good thing!) I simply haven't had time. My seven hours of "free time" each day seems woefully too little. Every minute gets eaten away with something.

Of course, I am enjoying more one-on-one time with Beckett who seems to be enjoying it immensely. He has suddenly decided to speak, crawl, and learn to stand all at the same time. Of course, his mad burgeoning skills mean he is sleeping less, but unlike big brother, he (thankfully) has not had any truly sleepless nights. It just means he's waking once around 11 p.m. and going instantly back to sleep and then getting up for good around 6:30. I can't complain at all. And, naturally, I'm overjoyed that his first word was mama. Brendan went for da-dee as his first word, followed soon thereafter by 'nana which meant banana. Mama came very late to him for some reason. I think he even said uh-oh and ba-ba for bottle before he said mama.

Beckett seems – if it's possible – more verbally advanced. He said mama on Friday, butter, which we interpreted as brother, on Saturday, and then – and I promise I am not making this up – something that sounds an awful lot like I love you on Saturday as well. He has repeated each of these several times, so we're thinking they're not just flukes. And if you repeat the words to him, he says them back.

So, in addition to that excitement, I have been working very hard to find work and think I have done so. I had two interviews last week. One was for a PR job with the (okay don't laugh too hard) National Singles Association. The other was ghost-writing for a headhunter who has a regular column in several business publications.

I will be doing the second one. I started yesterday, brainstorming on topics we could write about. He will get all the credit, but I will get a paycheck which actually matters more to me right now.

I also have several other irons in the fire with respect to work and hopefully I can pull some of them out soon. We shall see.
Scott has a show on Friday at a local coffeehouse and wine bar called Java Monkey. I'm excited about that. He has two other shows coming up in September as well and I'm working on a few other things.

If you happen to be in Atlanta and read this, come by Java Monkey on Friday night and say hi. And, of course, check out my darlin's music.

I'm leaving out a ton of things that have been happening, but I need to get supper going. Scott will be home any minute and I haven't even started yet. Zoinks!

Lost Cause

Just like so many of the things going on in our country today, the decline in purpose and meaning of the NAACP saddens me.

Once upon a time, the NAACP meant something. Stood for something noble and idealistic. Something that mattered. I don't know that this is true any more.

Not when the president of the Atlanta chapter can stand up and say something as ridiculous as his statement that equates deer hunting with dogfighting. Is he serious? Does he really not see the difference?

Does he not understand that deer hunting culls the population to a livable level, reduces the spread of disease, deer are eaten, and that when deer are hunted, they have a chance of getting away? How about that deer are wild animals and if they weren't hunted, they would starve to death?

Let's see how that compares to a dog that is chained up and beaten, thrown in a pen and forced to fight another dog to the death, and if it doesn't or doesn't win, is then drowned, or electrocuted, or shot at close range. Yeah...that's a lot like deer hunting.

Look. I get it. I know that a lot of African-Americans do not like dogs or fear them because there has been a long and sad history of dogs being used to torture and attack blacks going all the way back to the days of slavery. Still, does that justify cruelty to an innocent animal?

I believe that anyone who could do those things to an animal, would just as soon do it to a human. It's all just a matter of time. And I think it's a real shame that race has even been brought into the equation. This really has nothing to do with race, but a total lack of respect for life of any kind except his own on the part of Michael Vick.

Too bad the NAACP doesn't use its power for something or someone who actually deserves their efforts.

Authority Always Wins

Sometimes I just wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

I was a straight-A student in high school. A favorite of the teachers I loved. Some would have even called me a teacher's pet. But the ones I didn't like or respect? Oh boy!

I was the ringleader in getting our French teacher to quit my sophomore year because I hated her so much. I sassed her. Mocked her. Got in her face and yelled at her when she told my class that her three-year old spoke better French than we did. Laughed at her when she left the classroom in tears because we refused to listen to her. That, by the way, was the last time we ever saw her.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not exactly proud of that. I'm just using it as an example of my disdain for authority when it's an authority I can't respect. One form of authority I have a very difficult time with is making rules for the sake of having rules or rules that don't make sense or which are applied broadly leaving no room for individuals to determine whether or not they need the rule.

This is a trait that does not serve me well. It is a trait that leads me to instantly distrust teachers, principals, and school adminstrators in general. I feel they're all out to make me and my child conform to their ideas of what is normal and appropriate while they destroy any spark of creativity that might arise in anyone around them.

I know. There are some awesome teachers who inspire creativity. I know many of them and admire them greatly. They're not usually the ones who become administrators. Sadly.

All this came up for me today when I tried to cross the circular driveway in front of my son's school in a crosswalk (thank you, very much). An 8-year old school patrol nazi stuck her stop sign in my face and yelled, You can't cross there!

But it's a crosswalk, I replied, looking inquisitive.

Well, you can't walk across there. It's not allowed.

Quite maturely, I responded Well, that's the stupidest rule I've ever heard of. Can't cross the street in a crosswalk!

Naturally, all this transpired in front of Brendan. Yay me! Setting such a fine example. And of course, in front of the sternest looking female priest (priestess?) I've ever seen. I've noticed her all week walking her kids in, wearing her priest collar, and thinking nice things about her because she's obviously a minister of some sort. Unless, of course, she gets off on impersonating an Episcopal priest, which is actually kind of funny.

Anyway, when I said that the rule was stupid and got frustrated because the crossing guard Nazi refused to let me cross the street, she turned around and glared at me. Seriously!

If looks could kill, I'd be down at the funeral home right now.

Priest! Phhhh! Hello? Human frailty? Obvious parent of a pre-K kid? Don't know the arbitrary insane rules yet because handbooks haven't been given out yet on the third day of school!

That actually bothered me more than the rule itself. I'm on a show-a-little-kindness kick right now and it's really frustrating to me when other people are critical of the people around them when they show human emotion. Which, I realize is hypocritical because that's all this woman did and just because she's a priest I shouldn't expect her to behave any differently than the rest of us and I'm sure she didn't like me questioning safety rules in front of her kids, but ya know, I'm human. I'm carrying a 22-lb baby and holding a 4-year old's hand and carrying his book bag and trying to take the shortest route into the school. I'm an adult who knows how to cross a street without getting hit. Hell, I managed to survive all my life without getting hit by a car and my schools never had crossing guards and I walked over a mile to and from school.

I guess, what I'm trying to say here, is that if you're going to walk around wearing a giant wooden cross around your neck, a priest's collar, and you claim to represent the Highest Authority Of All, you might try showing a little good will toward the rest of us fuck ups.

Maybe?

At least until we grow up and learn to accept earthly authority or at least county school board authority a bit more?

School Night

My baby's growing up.

Brendan began his life as a public school student today, entering pre-Kindergarten at our neighborhood school. Very exciting. And not nearly as sad as I thought it would be.

I think any sad or melancholy emotions I might have experienced were overshadowed by my concern for him attending public school instead of private school. I never thought it would be an issue for me. I'm the product of public school and I turned out fine.

Of course, the public schools I attended were in a small town with lots and lots of money for educating kids. Our schools were always safe, clean, and our teachers reliable.

Here? I don't know.

I swear a child is going to get lost in Brendan's classroom. Everyone assures me the teacher, though not great, loves the kids. But her classroom looks like a bomb went off. It's dirty, cluttered, and totally chaotic. I hate it. It's driving me nuts.

I feel like I'm being closed-minded somehow. The school has such a good reputation, but I just feel like he's going to get lost in the shuffle of it. It's so different than the sweet little private preschool he was going to.

After dropping him off today, I found myself hoping he'd start hanging around this particular group of kids who were, as I told Scott, destined to become the kind of kids I hated growing up. Rich, preppy, athletic, good-looking. Not the kids with whom I was hanging out. But they were the most easily identifiable group to me. None of the other kids seemed quite....with it somehow.

Nope. I was hanging with the freaks and geeks, rebels and smart kids. Not losers. But not the kids running the show either.

As much as I hated those kids and still disapprove of those sorts of people as adults, I find myself thinking life will be easier for Brendan if he gravitates toward those people. And then I hate myself for thinking that way.

I just have to hope and pray that he finds his own way and figures out who he is and then I have to love him and embrace him whether he turns out to be a brain, a jock, a criminal, or a basket case, or something in between.

Smothered in Hugs

I miss my mom.

She wasn't perfect and she didn't always get me. And she wasn't always there for me. But sometimes the hurt is so big, so overwhelming and there's no answer and nothing you can do. And when that happens, the only thing that helps is to put your head in your mother's lap and let the sobs rack your body while she brushes your hair with her fingertips.

I hurt like that today.

I need a mommy.

Meet Me in the Morning

I love the morning.

I love rising when the house is still and silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the entryway. I walk to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee in the half-dark, then sit and pray or meditate in quiet before the world breaks free.

I love looking out my living room window and watching dawn's warm and golden glow spread and dance across the dark nooks in our shady yard. The way the shimmering and dappled yellow light spreads and separates the darkness ever so gently and magnificently reminds me of hope. The hope of the new day, of new life, new opportunities.

Another chance to be the person I want to be. To become the person God wants me to be. To love my family and friends. To love the earth and all its inhabitants –– even the ones who test my capacity to love. To laugh and write and live and love. To embrace the beautiful and wonderful life I have been given.

These moments seem rare and fleeting these days. Moments when I can stop and breathe and be and simply appreciate this beauty. Any moment a bedroom door will be flung open and I will hear someone calling for "mommy," and so the mad dash through my day will begin.

What a wonderful gift to begin it this way.

Hear Me Lord

Last week I took Brendan to his pediatrician for a routine check-up. Our school district requires that every kid have hearing and vision tests before they start pre-K, so we were trying to get that taken care of since school begins in a few weeks.

Brendan did great on the vision test, but failed the hearing test in his left ear. The nurse administered the test three times and consistently got the same results. In his right ear, he heard all five beeps and responded appropriately. In his left ear, he responded only to the first beep. Based on these results and the fact that he said it hurt his left ear when she performed the test, his pediatrician decided to refer us to an audiologist at the Children's Hospital for more tests.

Coincidentally, we had noticed that Brendan has been turning his DVD player up to full volume when watching a video and he complains that music hurts his ears.

Now, I know that minor hearing loss in one ear while maintaining perfect hearing in the other ear is really not that big of a deal. But, as a parent, if your child doesn't have to go through something like that, ;you'd really rather they didn't have to.

So, all week between appointments, I prayed. And I believed. Believed and told myself out loud several times a day that it was a fluke. His hearing is perfect.

And it is. Thankfully. We spent about an hour in the audiologist's office yesterday while she performed tests to look at the structure of both his inner and outer ear and tested his range of hearing. He did great and his hearing and ears are perfect.

I couldn't be happier. But, I am curious as to whether or not the outcome would have been different if I had let myself believe the worst instead of the best.

Your Love is Like the Morning Sun

On our way home from the grocery this evening, Brendan shouts, "Look, Mommy! The sun is cracking the sky."

Sure enough, the heavy grey clouds had broken apart and the pale yellow sun was brightly and blindingly shining through. We talked about the sun for a minute and then Brendan asked if the sun was breaking up the clouds because it wasn't ready for bed yet. He then asked me if the sun had a mommy who made him go to bed.

I laughed and explained that the sun doesn't really go to bed and then explained how the Earth rotates and revolves around the sun, etc. So then, Brendan asked me if the Earth was the sun's mommy. He was laughing and knew he was joking, but I just thought it was kind of sweet somehow.

Flight of the Conchords Ep 3 Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros

If y'all have never watched the new HBO show Flight of the Conchords you really need to give it a go. It's seriously one of the funniest things I've seen in a long, long time.

I understand comparisons will be made to Tenacious D, but I find these cute kiwis much funnier, easier on the eye, and less offensive than the D.

Here's a song from episode 3, Mugger, of the series.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

I haven't written in over a week. One would think there might be a backlog of topics to cover and thus, I'd have no problem jumping back in. Sadly, for me anyway, that doesn't seem to be the case.

True, I've written hundreds of mental blog entries the last week or so. Most while I was in the shower. A few of them were even brilliant. Unfortunately, now that it's Saturday night and I'm home alone with two sleeping boys and have a chance to write, all those great ideas are swirling around in a massive jumble, each fighting to come to the forefront and make its way onto the blog. Now that I'm having difficulty separating the wheat from the chaff, I think I'll just tell you some of the things I might have written about or wanted to write about. Maybe, if I have a chance, I'll come back to one or more of these topics.

1. I've begun working with a wellness coach. She rocks. I love working out. I've never been an athlete, but I love making my body work. I feel great when I make my body perform and realize how strong and healthy I can be. What I really love about this woman is that she focuses as much on my attitude and mental state as she does my body. Cool. What's even cooler is that we're trading services. I'm going to help her with some marketing.

2. I've been thinking a lot about blogging in general. Why we blog. Who reads our blogs. Anonymous blogging versus putting yourself out there completely. For those of us who are in relationships and blog openly (there must be another term for this), how our partners and friends feel about our blogging. I have a few thoughts on this. I have been thinking about not blogging and wishing I had done this anonymously at times this week. Honestly, that probably has a lot to do with the ambivalence I've felt about my blog lately. I will defintely expand on this topic when I have time.

3. Our kitty was diagnosed this week with hyperthyroidism. He lost half his body weight since December, dropping from 11 lbs. to a mere five and a half pounds. Poor kitty boy. Mao (named for the fact that mao is a Chinese word for cat) is a sweet, sweet cat. The best cat I've ever had and I've had a few, including a pair named Bill and Hillary. Anyway, he's a real darling and I'm glad we found out what's wrong and that it's something fairly easy to treat. I was a little sad that we learned he's actually a good bit older than we thought. Probably 14 instead of 11.

4. Both boys have coughs and colds so this week has been more challenging than usual. Even though he's sick, Beckett is still an angel. He's fussier than usual, but still so sweet and barely any trouble at all. He hardly even complains even though he's clearly miserable. I'm a very lucky mama.

5. I know I've written about my MOMS Club before, but I'm really realizing that this group of women really has risen to the level of a true community of friends and family. In the two years that I have been a member, there have been at least five babies born. One friend lost her baby. Another friend, in the process of moving out of state, learned that her mother has breast cancer. One woman has had major surgery. Two have had cause to think their husbands were cheating on them. One lost her mother. One of my sons was hospitalized and I began suffering from a major bout of depression.

In the two years that I have been a member, we have lived Life, in all its rich, beautiful, and painful glory. And we have all been there for one another. Making dinners. Keeping each other's kids. Cleaning kitchens and doing laundry for each other. Suggesting babysitters and nannies. Holding hands, offering hugs, laughing, crying, sharing, and just being there.

For someone like me, with very little family, and none close at hand, it really means the world to know I am part of this group of women. Again, lucky mama. Lucky woman.

Well, alright then, y'all. I will expand and expound upon some or none of these topics later as I see fit. Of course, I am assuming that someone out there still gives a damn.