Human

Are you the perfect mom? Or dad?

I know. It's an utterly ridiculous concept. 'Cause guess what? No one is perfect. God even said so.

Yet parents today, especially mothers, face intense pressure to live up to ever-mounting standards that become increasingly impossible to achieve.

Of course, it depends on which camp you're in as to which set of standards you should follow. Maybe you're a follower of Dr. Sears and believe in Attachment Parenting. To you the ideal mom breastfeeds exclusively until the child self-weans even if he or she is five, co-sleeps, wears her child in a sling, and is never out of the child's sight.

Or maybe you're a Ferberite or Baby Wisefollower and believe your baby should be on a schedule, sleeping in her own crib and through the night by the time she's three-months old.

Maybe your best friend has her toddler signed up for every class from Kindermusic to Gymboree, but you question how much an 18-month old can really absorb. Or maybe you don't have the $100 extra the classes cost because you gave up the job that would have allowed you to pay for the classes so you could be at home with your child on a full-time basis.

Oh! And there it is...the mother of all I'm a better parent than you arguments: Working Mom vs. Stay-at-Home Mom.

Are you getting it now?

You know it. I know it. None of us are perfect. We're all just doing the best we can to be the best parents we can be for our kids. Making the choices that we think are right. But our choices don't make us perfect and if we make a few mistakes here and there, that doesn't mean we're not good parents. It means we're human.

Choosing to be self-righteous about our personal choices when it comes to parenting doesn't make us perfect. Far from it, in fact. If we convey that attitude to our children we're simply doing them the injustice of teaching them to be judgmental rather than looking at their peers or others through the eyes of love and compassion.

As parents, I think we're all better off if we see other parents as we hope to be seen: as parents who love their children and want the best for them and who weigh every decision we make, hoping we're doing the right things to keep our kids healthy, reasonably happy, and to promote their overall well-being.

I've been torturing myself and my poor husband for weeks now trying to decide if we should enter our neighborhood school's lottery for the magnet Kindergarten class. If Brendan got into the class it would mean he has French lessons every day plus an intensified math and science curriculum. It would also mean that he is stuck with the same 20 or so kids until he goes to high school. Which I kind of think...sucks. But it's possible the academic advantages outweigh the social implications. But I don't know.

If he doesn't join (or get in – it is a lottery!) the magnet class, he can always be tested for the school's gifted class. And then, there's the possibility that academics just aren't his bag. Who knows? He's 5.

Yet, this decision has been weighing on me for weeks. As if the choice I make regarding his Kindergarten class will impact his academic and social status for the rest of his life.

I also have been feeling some (self-inflicted) pressure as I see the looks on all the faces of the parents who know without a doubt they want their wee ones in the magnet class. When I've said I'm uncertain as to whether or not I want Brendan in the class, they look at me as if I've sprouted an extra head. I imagine they think I'm not too bright and that I don't value academics. But as a natural-born geek who was always known as the smart kid I have to admit, I want more for my kid. I'd rather he be the popular kid. Or really to be both. But that's not always realistic.

It's only after spending many wasted hours reflecting on all of this that I decided that I don't care what the other moms think of me. I'm doing the best I can and if I decide that the social limitations of being in the magnet class are a deterrent to my child's overall development and that outweighs whatever academic advantage he would gain by having a little extra math and science, that's my decision to make in concert with my husband. And it doesn't make me – or you – a bad mom if we don't follow a particular crowd.

Tell Me When

Hey, Folks!

I wanted to remind you or let you know, as the case may be, that Scott will be playing this Thursday night, March 27, at 1Five0, 1000 Marietta Street, in Atlanta. That's near the intersection of Howell Mill Road.

Scott will be opening for The Lizardmen.

For those long-time Atlanta residents, you'll recognize the name Leslie Fram, formerly of The Morning X on 99.7. Leslie and her husband Lanny West are the owners of 1Five0.

The show is a benefit for Atlanta Pet Rescue, a no-kill shelter and costs $5. There will be free pizza, PBR, and popcorn.

Hope you'll all come out to support great local music and Atlanta's homeless pets.

See you there!

Happy

What a busy weekend we had around here!

On Friday, our friend J. and his son, E., who were passing through Atlanta on their way to visit an ailing grandparent, stopped by for a visit. They went with Beckett and me to my MOMS Club Easter egg hunt and we all had a great time.

After visiting with their family in another town that afternoon, J. and E., came back to spend the night with us. More friends came over and we ended up going out to buy curtains for our basement and installing them that night. Brendan and E. played amazingly well together, with baby brother Beckett tagging along as best he could, and had a wonderful time. We all ate pizza and laughed and talked and had a wonderfully relaxing night.

On Saturday morning, we had Brendan's soccer game at 9 a.m. and J. and E. came along with us to that. Brendan's team lost, but he played really well and had fun.

After the game, we all relaxed back at the ranch, had some lunch, then J. and E. headed up to J.'s in-laws house to meet his wife and daughter for the rest of Easter weekend. Scott, Brendan, Beckett, and I hung out at home, watching the Duke game (boo-hoo! I am very sad the team lost because they seem like a great group of kids.) and packing for our Easter trip to Montgomery. After the game we hit the road and got there in time for dinner. We were all so exhausted though, that within, 2 1/2 hours of getting there, we all fell asleep.

I was up at 5:30 on Sunday though, getting my Easter Bunny groove on, stuffing the baskets I bought last year at 70% off the markdown price (making the baskets that were originally $10 each, just $1.50 each!). By 6:30, I had stuffed both baskets, made a pot of coffee, put together a casserole for later in the day, and laid out both boys' Easter attire. And for once, we were all dressed and in the pew before Easter services began.

After church, we all headed over to Scott's brothers for a wonderful Easter dinner and egg hunt. The kids had fun. I enjoyed being with our family and just felt really close to both my sisters-in-law and all the kids. It was a really great day, I thought!

We were home by 8:30 p.m. with happy boys and leftovers for dinner. Brendan grew up it seemed and cheerfully offered to help Scott unpack the car. He ate well the whole weekend (a big concern for me is his poor appetite and picky palate).

He went to bed without a fuss and the weekend ended with all of us tired, but reasonably content.

Life Without a Cage

Beckett is at that age.

You know the one. The one where you turn your back for an instant and your newly toddling toddler has scaled the refrigerator and is standing atop it, hand in the cookie jar, and a huge grin on his face? Yeah...that's the one.

On Monday, when I was out shopping, I sat him on the counter as I fumbled in my wallet for my debit card. The salesperson told me I couldn't do that because if he fell, the store would be liable for his injuries. So, I put him on the floor beside me, his favorite stuffed doggy in hand. A moment later, I realized that he had toddled over to a shelf, picked up a teddy bear, and was running out the door of the store and into the parking lot! This, of course, came on the heels of the knife incident on Saturday, and mere moments, after I sat him on a bench outside the same store to answer my phone, and had him try to climb over the back of the bench.

Later i, I was talking to a friend at Brendan's soccer practice. She told me about her sister who has five sons. They're all grown now, or at least in high school, and thankfully, all still alive. But she said that when the second oldest of the boys was around 7, her sister went into his room to check on him and could not find him. She tore the house apart looking for him and finally found him on a shelf in the top of his closet, sound asleep.

Those of you who don't have sons are probably sitting there, mouths agape, wondering how that could happen.

Those of you who have sons are laughing knowingly.

Yesterday, after Beckett had unplugged the dock for Scott's iPhone and took off across the room, iPhone in one hand, toy microphone stand in the other, laughing gleefully, in frustrated jest, I declared, I need to put that child in a cage just to get anything done around here!

Brendan, who put me through the wringer himself at the same age, agreed. Then earnestly asked, Do we even have a cage?

Only the sibling of a 15-month old brother could agree that caging the beast is the best course of action.

Walk Like an Egyptian

Sunday night I was cuddling with Brendan in his bed and we were watching a Blue's Clues video called Blue's Room World Traveller.

In the video, Blue and her brother Sprinkles travel to three different countries/continents/environments looking for magic keys. One of the places they visit is Egypt.

Brendan says, Mommy, I think Egypt looks cool. And I said, Yeah. So do I. Egypt is one of the places Mommy has always wanted to visit. Maybe I'll take you there some day.

There was a long pause as he thought about this. Then he said, I'll need my sandals. Trying not to laugh, because of course, he's right, I asked what else he would pack.

I'd need my sandals. And I would need water. And my sunglasses....And my moose.

His moose is a small, plush moose his step-grandmother brought back to him from a trip to Vancouver and lately he carries it everywhere.

I'm curious now to know what he'll plan to take on other trips. He also wants to go to Scotland, so next time I have the chance I think we'll plan for that trip, too.

Flow

I have a short list of things I want to accomplish this week and I can't seem to focus on it.

I spent a good portion...okay...ALL of yesterday running around doing errands. By the time I got showered and dressed and out the door with Beckett yesterday it was almost 11 a.m. We went to Big Lots looking for Easter eggs for Brendan's class egg hunt today; found storage baskets for our new basement playroom that we painted on Sunday; drove to another part of town and picked up some stuff I had ordered last week; shipped a package and faxed a form; ate lunch; came home and collected all our books and videos that were due at the library; picked up Brendan from school; went to the library; went to Target; came home. By then it was 4 p.m. The boys played while I cooked their dinner and wrapped a present.

We had a babysitter come at 6 p.m. I put both Beckett and Brendan in bed around 7 p.m. and then Scott and I went out to dinner with our friend Barrett to celebrate her birthday. We went to an amazing restaurant. It was definitely an adventure. We were home by 9:30.

Brendan awoke around 1 a.m. coughing and ended up in our bed. But then Scott wasn't able to sleep and we ended up talking until 3, I think. Then, Brendan woke up again around 5 a.m. coughing and I moved him back into his room, gave him his inhaler again, and tried to sleep in his room but he kept stealing the covers and complaining that his legs hurt. I tried massaging them, but then Beckett woke up. I got him settled back down and then it was almost 6 a.m. so I moved Brendan and myself to the living room, put on Cartoon Network and made a pot of coffee. I dozed off and on while reading all of YOUR blogs until it was time to dress Brendan for school. Needless to say, we were late.

I have an article due next Monday and I need to follow up with two other potential clients.

I also want to put our rec room/playroom back together now that the paint is dry because that is also where I have created an office space for myself and I'd like to work down there.

And did I mention that my ear still hurts? And I still can't hear? It's driving me nuts! I am so ready to pull a Van Gogh or something similar. I'm definitely calling the doctor today about both myself and Brendan. I was hoping to avoid this since I have spent about $300 in co-pays for myself and my children this month. Of course, I'm thankful that's all it was. I am extremely grateful that we have insurance. That said, we don't have the hospital bill yet. It's possible insurance didn't cover some portion of it.

Enough rambling. On with the show...

You Don't Have to Live Like a Refugee

If you have never checked out Blogger's monthly Blogs of Note, you should. There are always some beautiful gems among them.

This month I found one that is, perhaps, the most moving blog (it's actually a collection of material from other blogs that are all part of a real-world and virtual community) I've ever read.

Here's a link...Unseen Dharamsala. Check it out!

Track 300

So, here we are...I'm writing and you're now reading, my 300th blog entry. Technically, if you count the blog posts I've written and deleted for fear of offending someone or all the brainy and thoughtful insight I've had while driving or taking a shower that has never made it from my mind to the keyboard to the screen, there are probably a few hundred more. But, let's focus on what has come to fruition here on this little blog.

I first attempted to start writing here in 2002, but couldn't commit to the daily routine of it. I got serious about it in 2005. From the fall of that year, it took me two years to write 200 blog entries. I did that sometime this past fall. Of course, it's one of the entries I deleted because, although I didn't intend for it to be offensive, apparently, I was inconsiderate and hurt a friend's feelings with it and felt like an idiot for not realizing the power of my words. So....anyway, since October, I've written 100 blog posts.

It's kind of hard to believe. I know there are folks who write 365 or more posts a year. And I truly admire them, their commitment, and their prolific gifts.

But that ain't me, Babe.

Oh, I wish it were. How I would love to have this time each day to thoughtfully consider what's going on in my world, both the parts close at hand, and the world at large. The problem is, I get too busy living to always take the time to record and share the actual experiences of living or to share my (unrequested) opinions on all this crazy world has to offer.

I've wondered if it's worth it to keep writing here when I don't post everyday. When I feel like I'm not really saying anything important or useful for others. But, it makes me happy. And when you can choose to something that makes yourself happy without causing any harm to anyone else, why not? It's a cliche, but it wouldn't be if it weren't true...Life really is too short not to let yourself be happy once in a while.

So, grab a cup of coffee and stay for a while. I'll be back with more crazy mommy stories, more funny kid stories, more proud wife and mama stories. And of course, more bitching and moaning because I know you all can't get enough of that. Ha!

Par for the Course

I just thought I should add a quick update.

Beckett seems to be running at about 98%. He seems fine except for the runny nose. He's going about 90 miles a minute, into everything. Yesterday he scared the bejeezus out of us. Thankfully, Brendan is an exceptionally good brother and a tattletale who knows when to call in the big guns by declaring, It's an EMERGENCY!

So, what happened, you ask? Good Lord! Beckett figured out how to open the dishwasher by bouncing against the door until it falls open. So, he did this while I was upstairs, and took out a giant carving knife. And carried it from the kitchen to the living room, which involves coming down a step. A step he had fallen down earlier in the day.

When Brendan called me to come, I thought the emergency might be that Beckett was spilling juice, his new favorite activity. But something in the tone made me run downstairs. I'm feeling like a bad mom even though they were only alone a few minutes. It just never occurred to me that he'd open the dishwasher.

Brendan managed to be our hero in spite of still feeling sick. I had to pick him up early from school Friday because he was not feeling well. I'm really worried since he has been sick for two weeks now.

My ear infection is only marginally better. It doesn't hurt constantly, just some of the time. But I still can't hear and it feels like I have a carrot or a sock or rocks or something stuffed inside. Still, I didn't let the fact that I'm taking three medicines (my kitchen countertop looks like an old lady lives here!) stop me from going to a birthday party for three of my girlfriends. It was a very low-key cocktail party at one of the girls' homes, but it was the first time I'd been out around adults who weren't doctors and nurses in over a week. it was very nice. And the three glasses of Pinot Noir I drank gave me exactly the false sense of well-being I needed to make me forget my ear infection for a few minutes.

Today, Brendan is running a fever again, but seems to feel better after a does of Motrin.

Keep your fingers crossed for me that he gets better and the rest of us also continue to improve.

And keep your fingers crossed that Scott doesn't get sick. He has a show on March 27. Speaking of which, if you're in Atlanta, listen to Dave FM for a radio spot for that show....The Lizardmen with Special Guest, Scott Downes. It's a show at 1five0. I just thought it was pretty cool!

Hurt

I just want to go on record as saying, Ear infections suck.

I have not had an ear infection since I was a small child. Until now. I finished my antibiotic two days ago, but last night woke up with excruciating pain in my left ear. Earlier in the night the congestion in my head made it feel like I couldn't hear.

This morning I called my doctor and told him what was going on. He called in three new prescriptions for me. A steroid to reduce the swelling in my eustachian tubes; a new decongestant that is more head-centric and less focused on the chest; and Hydrocodone for the pain. I took one pain pill at 3 p.m. and another at 7 p.m. and I'm still hurting.

I don't know how this is possible, but I am so thankful neither boy has had an ear infection yet.

Thank You

I just wanted to write a post saying how grateful I am to have friends who are so eager and willing to step up when they're needed. From the dear friend who sat in the ER with me for six hours and ran every errand imaginable including picking up my car at the pediatrician's office and getting me lunch to the doll who brought me a lasagne this morning, I am truly blessed.

In addition to all the wonderful friends in my life, I am also blessed right now to have more work than I know what to do with (I'm not complaining!). I have two articles I'm ghostwriting, one of which I got because I called to interview someone for the first story. And there may be more. If only I knew something about income trusts....

I am beginning to see what is really possible when you start thinking positively and focusing your energy on gratitude instead of fear.

On the Road Again

Slowly we emerge from the dark cave of despair.

Beckett came home from the hospital Saturday afternoon and continues to improve. I think he was happiest just to be able to roam freely about the house and play with his toys.

Brendan returned to school today. He was happy and his friend Kush gave him a big hug and said, "I am sorry you were absent, Brendan." It was somehow very formal and very sweet.

I picked up where my mother-in-law left off with cleaning my house. That wonderful woman did all of our laundry and organized my laundry room for me. She cooked a big meal Sunday night so that we'd have leftovers and she made me a bunch of her delicious chicken salad so I have lunch for several days.

I'm trying to organize an office space for myself in our basement and turn the rest of the area into a family room/playroom area. I need paint and a rug. To start with. Not sure what else we need. I don't feel like painting though. I need someone who likes painting so much they'd do it in someone else's house. I like it, but I'm too tired right now.

And now I'm rambling.

So, this is where we are. Better. Not 100%. But much, much better. Thank you all for the kind words and wishes.

Breathe

No profound insight or deep meaning today. Just a quick update.

Brendan has been sick since last Monday. Fever of 103, general malaise. Doctor said it was a virus, he'd be better in 48 hours. Ha! He's still sick.

I started coughing a day or two later. Beckett awoke yesterday at 4 a.m. with the croup. I took him in to the pediatrician who determined he wasn't oxygenating. His oxygen level was in the 80s, so she insisted he be transported by ambulance to the ER so he could be on oxygen. Brendan and I rode along. Spent 8 hours in the ER before he was admitted. He has to stay again tonight.

I was coughing like crazy last night and having sharp pains in my ribs and feel like I have a weight on my chest. Saw my doctor 30 minutes ago who told me I have a sinus infection, bronchitis and walking pneumonia. Oh, yeah. And an ear infection. Fun stuff.

So, now I'm going to the grocery, to pick up my three prescriptions, and head back to the hospital to relieve my mother-in-law.

Say some prayers for us that we all recover quickly.

You Don't Pull No Punches

My friend whose baby girl died of SIDS last year is expecting a new baby. She's actually due in just over three weeks.

Last night, our Bunco group hosted a shower for her. It was so much fun. It was a surprise and so cool to see the look on her face when she realized what was going on.

I was one of the co-hosts and was tasked with doing something with champagne. So, below is a recipe I found that turned out to be very tasty. I'll share it. I'm not generally a fan of super-sweet punches, but this one is a little different.

1 can Cherry-Pomegranate juice concentrate (original recipe calls for cranberry juice concentrate, but I substituted this)
1 can Pink Lemonade
1 can Limeade
2 bottles Champagne
1 bottle white wine (I used a Riesling)
1 liter club soda

1 lemon sliced
1 lime sliced

Blend all in a punch bowl and add fruit slices. You can also add frozen strawberries or raspberries.

I made a puree of fresh strawberries and fresh mango which I then froze in some butter molds shaped like dogwood blossoms and floated them on top of the punch. It was a very pretty and refreshing punch.

Five for Fighting

I'm stealing this from Rennratt because I just thought it was pretty funny. It probably has something to do with being battered and bruised by my own five-year old who thinks I'm his personal jungle gym to climb on, jump on, tackle, kick, punch, or otherwise roughhouse with, all in the name of playing Transformers or Spider-Man.

19

I say, bring 'em on!

Further on Up the Road

Your Life Path Number is 22

Your purpose in life is to use your power for good Of all the life paths, yours has the most innate power. Your power lies in your vision, and you must recruit others to help you in this vision. You are able to be a great idealist, but you still have the practicality to get things done. In love, you tend to be a big romantic - but you also tend to keep your distance. You have a lot of potential, and it's sometimes hard to live up to. Sometimes you just feel like slipping into obscurity and doing nothing. You tend to be prone to dramatic emotions, until you step back and look at things honestly.

What Is Your Life Path Number?

You Never Give Me Your Money

I know what you're thinking.

You're right. I'm a sell out.

I have an advertiser. We're in a trial relationship for the moment. We'll see how it goes. If s/he doesn't leave the cap off the toothpaste or squeeze it from the middle and I don't annoy her/him by stealing all the covers in the middle of the night, we may take it to the next level. So to speak.

The ad (to the left), is for a new web site called Doing Fine that is supposed to celebrate the positive things in life, to be a place where folks share stories of what is going right in their lives as opposed to just bitching about the negative (as some of us - namely me - are guilty of doing).

It seems like a fine idea. I can get behind that.

So, please take a moment to visit them and check it all out.

And have a happy day.

Stormy Weather

We just had a big storm blow through. I don't typically fear storms, but this one woke me up, and for some reason made me a bit nervous. It was all big, gusty winds, lightning and thunder. It was raining hard, but the wind was so fierce that you couldn't hear the rain over it.

But as I was sitting here, reading other blogs, suddenly I realized I could hear birds singing. And the patter of soft rain. Such a hopeful way to begin a day.

How lovely.

Nature does wonders for the soul.

Falling Slowly

Awards shows don't make me cry. Lots of things make me cry. But not superficial celebrities.

Last night, watching the Oscars, I cried.

The sheer joy and awe at performing his song at the Oscars that shone out of Glen Hansard's face moved me to tears. And the giddy yet shy smile on Marketa Irglova's face while she was playing piano and singing fairly shouted, Can you believe this?! We're really here. Doing this! Wow!, while at the same time it conveyed her obviously sweet and earnest disposition.



The song was amazing. So perfectly said and beautiful. So hopeful. So right. Sung so passionately. And played on that obviously much-loved guitar that Hansard plays. Oh! It just all made me so happy. It was just so right. My joy at their winning Best Song made me clap and do a little dance where I sat. I mean really! I can't imagine better people winning. It's such a redeeming moment for genuine artists, a group of like-minded friends could create a work of art, a movie, and put it out there and have it lead to genuine recognition for their efforts.

As a writer and as the wife of a talented and hard-working musician, the friend of many other working artists in various genres, it gave me great hope that real art created by real, thinking, feeling individuals (as opposed to song-writing hacks hired by studios and labels to throw some words and notes on a page and hand them to some hand-picked pop-tart and mashed together with ProTools and pitch correction software) is still being recognized at that level.

Yay for the little man and woman!

I also loved both of their speeches and I swear...Jon Stewart will now and forever have a special place in my heart for bringing Marketa Irglova back on stage to give her acceptance speech after being cut off by the producers. And I daresay, hers was one of the finest, most inspiring speeches I've ever heard given on an awards broadcast. In fact, I was so moved by it that I want to share it with you in case you did not see it yourself:

Hi everyone. I just want to thank you so much. This is such a big deal, not only for us, but for all other independent musicians and artists that spend most of their time struggling, and this, the fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just to prove no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible. And, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. And this song was written from a perspective of hope, and hope at the end of the day connects us all, no matter how different we are. And so thank you so much, who helped us along the way. Thank you

Irglova also wins double-Dawn points by using one of my all time favorite Irish expressions, fair play, which basically means congratulations.

And just because his speech was pretty special too, here's what Hansard had to say in his speech:

Thanks! This is amazing. What are we doing here? This is mad. We made this film two years ago. We shot on two Handicams. It took us three weeks to make. We made it for a hundred grand. We never thought we would come into a room like this and be in front of you people. It's been an amazing thing. Thanks for taking this film seriously, all of you. It means a lot to us. Thanks to the Academy, thanks to all the people who've helped us, they know who they are, we don't need to say them. This is amazing. Make art. Make art. Thanks.

e>

Of course, it's all just made better for me by the fact that Hansard is Irish, Once was shot in Dublin, and I'm a sucker for Irishmen.

I feel like I've just awoken or broken free of a fog that was shrouding everything I've done for the last 36 hours or so. After getting very little sleep on Valentine's night, I had another rough day and night of it all yesterday. Thankfully, school was out so I didn't have to rush to be anywhere and was able to sleep until 7:30 when Beckett was up for good. I also had the blood drive yesterday, which went well. When I was there from noon until 2 p.m. we had already collected 20 pints and that wasn't counting the five or so of us who were there at the same time. Not too shabby.

It was kind of a zoo with kids all over the waiting room. The Red Cross provided a cake as well as the normal Nutter Butters (my favorite thing about giving blood!) and Cheese Nips, and there were actually people who had just come to donate who ended up doing it in Claire's honor.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I've never reacted well to giving blood. I usually bruise severely, as in from the elbow to the shoulder. This time, I barely bruised at all, but it took over 30 minutes for them to drain me and they had to keep readjusting the needle. My arm hurts from the elbow to my fingertips, especially when I clinch my fingers for any reason. I was also exhausted. I felt as if I could just fall asleep standing up last night. So, naturally neither boy slept well although Scott helped me go to bed early. The boys or at least one of them was up at 1 a.m.; at 3:00 or so I had to get Beckett a bottle. Then, Brendan ended up in our bed and at 4:00 a.m. started whining because he was congested. I moved him to his bed and tried to sleep with him, but he woke up whining again at 5:30 and stayed up. I tried sleeping in the recliner in the living room, but he kept talking to me, so finally I left him there watching Banana Splits or whatever other nonsense is on at that time of the morning and went back to bed until 6:30 when Beckett started crying. I tried to ignore him, hoping he'd find his way back to sleep, but Brendan showed up at my bedside to tell me his brother was crying and that I needed to get him up. Finally, I caved in and cried while I was changing Beckett's diaper because I haven't felt this tired since Beckett was born and I had yelled at Brendan to leave me alone and I hate the way being exhausted changes my personality and makes me mean.

Thankfully, Beckett went down for a nap around 10 a.m. and while Brendan watched a video and played trains, I got an 1 1/2 nap while Scott ran interference for me. Then, later both boys took afternoon naps and I had a luxurious soak in a hot bath using all the delightful Aveda products Scott lavished me with for Valentine's Day.

I felt like a new woman. Now, both boys are asleep; Scott and I are watching the NBA Skills competition; I'm cozy in my new jammies; and hopefully tomorrow will be a new day.

Blood and Chocolate

I feel like I could sleep for a week. Maybe two.

I didn't go to bed until after 1 a.m. Beckett was up from 3:00 until 4:00. Then, I remember being up from 4:45 or so until almost 6, but I don't remember why. Brendan? Beckett? Our dog who frequently needs to go out in the middle of the night?

Am I losing my mind?

Anyway, today was our blood drive in honor of our friend's baby. I was at the donation center for over two hours waiting, watching other donors' kids, and donating. My blood flows slowly for some reason (I wonder if this would keep me from bleeding out in the event of an emergency?), so it always takes me twice as long as anyone else to give a pint of juicy red goodness.

We got home and with both boys either napping or playing quietly I slept for 40 min. The only reason I awoke then was Beckett's crying to be rescued from his crib.

If I sat still for 3 minutes and closed my eyes, I'd be asleep. It's so tempting.

I have also been starving ever since donating. No appetite at all beforehand, but now I could eat a big chunk of red meat. And chocolate. Thankfully, we have a new Greek restaurant that delivers so we'll be having takeout Gyros for supper. And then there are the truffles Scott brought us for Valentine's Day. Yum. Not the healthiest, but oh so easy. And it should quell my hankering for red meat.

Hopefully both boys go down easily and we can relax and watch the episode of Lost we missed last night and go to sleep early. Oh to dream.

Boys

Wow.

My friend Suzanne just sent me this and it makes me feel bad. I love, love, love my boys. And by having sons, it has opened up an entire world to me that I wouldn't know had I only had daughters. But I've never quite been able to shed the sense of loss or failure that I feel over not having a girl. I never even realized I wanted a girl until I didn't have one. I feel guilty, of course, for saying these things. That somehow by admitting it, that it lessens the love I feel for my boys. I've always thought that God must feel I didn't deserve a girl, that somehow I'd just fuck her up the way my mom did to me. Stupid, huh?

Anyway, Suzanne sent me the article below. I'll try to find and post a link to the actual story later.

from the UK Telegraph

Boys 'lead to more post-natal depression'


By Rebecca Smith, Medical Editor
Last Updated: 5:58pm GMT 13/02/2008

Women who give birth to boys are more likely to suffer post-natal depression than those having daughters, a study has found.



Having a son is 'more likely to reduce quality of life'
Research carried out in France found three quarters of women who were diagnosed with severe post-natal depression had sons.

Even if the mother had not been diagnosed as depressed, having a son was significantly more likely to reduce their quality of life compared to mothers of girls, according to the research which was published in the Journal of Clinical Nursing.

A team of researchers led by Professor Claude de Tychey, from Université Nancy, France, studied 181 women from a community where there were no cultural pressures about the sex of children.

All the women were aged 19 to 40, with 52 per cent of the total giving birth to boys and 48 per cent giving birth to girls.


A third had signs of post natal depression when interviewed one to two months after the birth and nine per cent had severe symptoms.

Prof de Tychey said: “When we launched our research, our main aim was to study the effect that gender has on PND.

But the overwhelming finding of the study was the fact that gender appears to play a significant role in reduced quality of life as well as an increased chance of severe PND.”

They also found women who had given birth to a boy reported lower quality of life scores in 70 per cent of cases compared with women who had delivered a girl, regardless of whether they suffered from post-natal depression. In women who did not have depression, mothers of sons had lower quality of life scores in nine out of the 10 categories.

“These figures show very clearly that having a boy resulted in lower quality of life scores in all cases” says Professor de Tychey.

“We also discovered that being a first-time mother had no effect on quality of life scores.

Women had the same general scores regardless of whether the recent birth was their first or second baby.” The study also found that women who had a daughter as their first child were more likely to have a second baby than those who had a boy first.

Prof Tychey said: “Previous studies have shown that women who live in cultures where greater value is placed on sons are more likely to suffer from PND if they give birth to a girl.

“However, we believe that this study – carried out in a French community where women didn’t face cultural pressures over the sex of their baby – is the first to show that women who give birth to boys are more likely to suffer from severe PND and reduced quality of life. Further research is needed to find out why this happens.”

I am Superman

Brendan has been coming up with so many cute and funny things lately that it has been hard to keep them all in mind when I want to share them.

First, he has a really funny thing he says and I've started saying it around here at home because I think it's really hilarious. Sometimes I'll ask him to help me out by taking something to his room or to hand something to his brother. If he already has his hands full, he'll say, I'm sorry, Mommy. I can't...I'm full of hands.

On Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, he came home from pre-K and announced that it was King Martin's birthday, leaving me with an image of a smiling MLK wearing a crown and blowing a party horn. He learned a lot about MLK between his actual birthday and the day we honor him. His class saw two films about him and went to a special assembly. When school was out on MLK Day, I made French toast for breakfast. Realizing I had no powdered sugar to go on the French toast, I put green sugar sprinkles on it instead. Brendan was excited and I told him it was a special treat for MLK day. A few minutes later, Brendan is screaming for me. When I came back to the kitchen, he tells me, Mommy, Beckett's eating my Martin Luther King French toast! This time the image that came to mind was a piece of French toast with MLK's image on it, like the Mary toast.

His most recent act of interest has been to come up with his own superhero identity, complete with an archnemesis.

As we were driving a few days ago, he told me that he is really Glue Guy. His superpower is glue. He can shoot glue from his fingertips to stop bad guys and he can use his sticky fingertips to climb. He acquired his superpowers in class one day when he accidentally spilled some magic glue that he had found in a cabinet on himself while doing an art project. It turned him into Glue Guy.

His archenemy is Gorilla Guy. Less than 3 feet tall, Gorilla Guy, aka Beckett, stalks and chases Glue Guy, stealing his things and smearing the remnants of his favorite food – bananas! – all over Glue Guy's stuff.

I must say, I was duly impressed with my proto-geek's imagination. His love of all things super and his imagination just make me think there's a career awaiting him in the world of comics. And that would be just fine.

Creep

After Meredith Emerson's murder and the revelation that a potential serial killer had been roaming throughout North Georgia the last few years, self-defense classes popped up throughout the Metro like mushrooms in March. I think there were a lot of one-off classes designed to just give the attendees a few basic ideas of what to do if they're attacked.

This past Sunday, I had the pleasure of attending a real martial arts-based self-defense class taught by a black belt in Tae Kwan Do. My friend Barrett has been attending the class for a few weeks now and asked me to go with her. I loved the class and am eager to go back. The instructor's focus seemed to be very much on empowering the women in the class and helping them to believe in their own abilities to defend themselves should they find themselves in a dangerous situation. I am eager to go back.

Especially since yesterday, I thought I might have cause to use my newly acquired, but limited knowledge of self-defense.

After picking Brendan up from school, I took the boys to Target to pick up some Valentine's goodies for Brendan's friends. While we were shopping, I noticed a strange-looking man staring at me as he walked toward us. He passed us, then I noticed him turn and begin following us. When I stopped to look at some shoes, he passed us and stopped within sight and kept glancing over at us.

I didn't want to freak out at that point and we kept shopping and I didn't notice him again until we were leaving. Suddenly, he came out of nowhere and began following us again. It was like he had been waiting around the exit for us.

So, he followed us out of the store and my first thought was landing a kick in the center of his chest. My next thought was finding someone to tell. As I was debating going back into the store, I saw two young men who had just parked next to my car coming toward the store. I stopped them and asked if they would mind waiting on the sidewalk until I loaded the boys in the car. As soon as he saw me talking to these two young man (who I think thought I was the crazy one), he turned and went in the opposite direction. I was so flustered that I left my shopping bag in the cart on the sidewalk and had to go back for it.

As I was leaving, I saw a security guard patrolling the parking lot and told him what had happened and he said he'd check it out.

Maybe I overreacted, but maybe not. It's just like when Barrett accidentally popped the instructor in the nose with her knee while he was demonstrating a technique. It was a little uncomfortable at the moment, but perhaps that pain saves her life one day. If my discomfort and embarrassment at seeming paranoid keeps Creepy McCreeperson from Target -stalking someone else, I've done something positive.

Faces & Names

I really want to like Brendan's pre-K teacher and not be critical of her. I definitely never criticize her in front of him and I encourage him to like her.

But I swear, she's driving me nuts.

Seven months into the school year and she is still calling him the wrong name. She calls him Brandon instead of Brendan. When she writes his name, she spells it B-R-E-N-D-O-N.

Usually, in the mornings, I'm rushing. This is my fault. But, most mornings, I don't get to take my shower and dress in anything nicer than sweats until after I get Brendan to school and Beckett down for a nap. The days when I do shower, dress nicely, and do my hair and face before going into the school, the teacher always makes a big deal over my appearance and tells me that I should always wear makeup. I get it. I know I look a lot better when I'm done up. Don't we all? But I think it's kind of rude to tell someone that and to tell them that as often as she has told me.

I asked her if I could bring cupcakes to the class for Brendan's birthday. His birthday was on Saturday and I asked if I could bring cupcakes on Monday or Tuesday. She said either day would be fine, just show up right after naptime. So, on Tuesday morning, I told her I'd be back with cupcakes that afternoon. But when I showed up she acted totally surprised and even asked me if I had told her I was coming! ARGH!

The thing is...she comes across as being very sweet and friendly. I just don't know how to respond to her. So, I just take it. But I feel like my son is getting shafted by being in her class and I don't have high hopes for the rest of his elementary school career if this is how we're starting off.

I wish I could volunteer in the class more to get a feel for how things are on a day-to-day basis, but with Beckett I just can't. What would I do with him?

Maybe I'm just overreacting. I don't know. I loved school, but I know that bad teachers or teachers who did not respond well to me always made me insecure and made me hate going to school. And I know not every teacher is going to like my kid. What's weird is that this teacher seems to love my kid. She always tells me how sweet he is and how good he is. He never gets into trouble.

I suppose it's just my high expectations that a teacher should be able to pronounce and spell a name that is not that unusual. She manages to pronounce and spell Kaif correctly. Is Brendan really that hard?

Sick of Me

I hate being overemotional.

I used to think I was just a really passionate, caring person. But now, I wish I could be more analytical and robotic by nature.

Anyway, I really think that having this low-grade sickness, sinus infection, crud, or what-the-hell-ever it is for the last three weeks while taking care of two boys who've slept irregularly for the last three weeks (although it has improved dramatically this week! Yay for sleep!), has taken its toll and also contributed to my spaz-fest.

I mean, really? Who sits around thinking about being alone when they could take joy in their friendships, their partner, their beautiful children, their wonderful life.

And I have been thinking about all those things.

I have felt on top of the world the last week or so. I am working on writing some articles to submit to various publications. I'm making new friends and building relationships. I'm in touch with a ton of old friends from high school (thank you My Space!) and my darling cousin who was like a sister to me growing up.

I don't know why I would spin out like that.

I'm sorry God. I'm sorry Universe. I'm sorry Scott. I'm sorry all my dear friends that I take for granted. I'm sorry my darling sons.

I promise to do better. To focus on all the goodness and joy. To be the person I want to be. Happy and grateful.

What Goes Down, Must Go Up

The problem with antidepressants is that when you've been on them long enough and start to feel great over the course of enough months, you then forget you need them because you're not focused on making yourself feel better. You just do feel better. Well, then you forget to take them one day. And a second day. And maybe even a third day and you still feel great. But then, you remember you haven't taken them and so you take your medicine, but by the point it's too late and you're going down.

Maybe not for long. But you are.

My panic and easy trigger last night is evidence of my forgetting to take my medicine for a few days. Even though I took it Thursday and Friday after having forgotten to take it Monday through Wednesday, it was too late. Being aware of what's going on though is helpful. At least for me. And it allows me to exert a little bit of control over my emotions because I'm able to tell myself that I wouldn't feel this if I hadn't forgotten my medication.

In fact, I already feel like I'm back on track. Hopefully, I didn't go too far off the rails and make too many others around me unhappy.

Give a Little Bit

On February 15 of 2007, friends of ours named T. and S. brought their beautiful new baby girl into the world. They named her Claire and she joined their happy, energetic family of five, that included two big sisters and a big brother. Just two months younger than my Beckett, Claire was a sweet, angelic, beautiful and quiet baby girl. I only heard her cry one time and then all it took was me cooing and talking to her to settle her down until her mommy could pick her up.

On April 19, 2007, T. and S. awoke to find that their baby girl had died in her sleep of SIDS. And so began the most gut-wrenching journey of their lives.

T. told me once that the only thing that gave her any real sense of peace or comfort throughout the last year was when she had the opportunity to attend a memorial service for the families of organ donors that was attended by the recipients of donor organs and their families. I have a vague recollection that she might have met a family that received one of Claire's organs. The knowledge that somehow someone was helped from all of it dulled the pain for a moment at least.

This year our circle of friends has been very intent on helping T. and S. get through the day that would have seen their lovely girl turning one. None of us can imagine their pain, but we would do anything in our power to lessen it. For weeks, we wondered and worried over what an appropriate and joyful celebration of her brief life might be. Then T. came up with an idea of her own. She said that if she were not pregnant (she's due on Mar. 21), she would like to donate blood in Claire's honor that day.

We couldn't think of a more touching memorial, so another friend – Carrie – and I have organized a blood drive in Claire's honor on February 15.

Blood supplies fall to critical levels at this time of year and here in Atlanta supplies are extremely low right now.

If you live in the Atlanta area, I encourage you to take some time out of your day on Feb. 15 and come to the Red Cross Donation Center on Monroe Drive.

There are two ways you can go about this if you want to participate. You can give your information to me via the comment form below and we will schedule the appointment and get back to you. Or you can contact Beverly Vicks @ the Red Cross 1-800-448-3543 option 1. If you have given, we or Beverly will need your first and last name. If you have never donated, we need your first, last, DOB and phone # to get you processed before the 15th. The donation will be given at the Monroe facility right off of the I-85 exit. If and when you call Beverly, tell her specifically that you're calling for the Claire Austin donation on the 15th of Feb. Please let us know if you will need someone to sit with your children there while you donate. Schools are out on this day, but we still want you to come.

We are hoping this will become an annual event. And even if you live in another city and want to donate on that day or around this time, let me know.

If you plan to donate, also please leave a comment even if you don't need me to schedule you. We'd like to let the family know how their experience has impacted others and the positive light that radiates from their darling girl's brief life.

Thanks.

Goodbye Super Tuesday

Tuesday – Super Tuesday as it were – was something of an anniversary for me.

The very first time I got to vote was 20 years ago on the very first Super Tuesday ever. It was one of the happiest and most exciting days I can ever remember.

I walked from my house to the elementary school a block away after I got home from high school that afternoon.

I remember that it was raining, but still very bright outside. And it was warm.

I had been in that same gym in Vena Stuart Elementary School maybe a hundred times...going to vote with my grandmother, a die-hard Republican, and as a student there in kindergarten and third grade. I remember all the times I would go into the voting booth with my grandmother and tucked safely behind the navy blue curtain, watch her push buttons and finally pull the lever to cast her ballot. I remember the time a voting official told me I couldn't go in with my grandmother and she waved her cane in the air and gave him what for, telling him that I wouldn't affect her vote and that she wanted me to learn something about electing the people who control our lives.

The day I voted for the first time I felt as if I were carrying something valuable: my right to have a say. Something my grandmother would have had the opportunity to do when she was just one year older than I was when I voted. Born in 1901, she would have turned 19 the year women first gained the right to vote. I cannot imagine how thrilling that must have been.

And yet, I am thrilled each and every time I have the opportunity to exercise my right to vote. I was thrilled this week to learn that our regular babysitter, MD, was going to vote for the first time on Tuesday. I'm sure my glee over this knowledge seemed odd to her, but really, I was just thrilled to know that she had any interest in the political process. I am confident this girl had very strong reasons for casting her vote for a particular candidate and I am curious as to whom she would have voted for. I'm certain that she would not be the kind of woman who would simply vote as her parents tell her to vote. Just as in 1988, on a balmy Tuesday, I voted for the first time and broke with family tradition to cast my vote for my Tennessee homeboy Al Gore.

The first person to vote for a Democrat in my family in decades. And I've never looked back. If he were a candidate, I'd vote for AG in every election. My love and admiration for him has endured and only gotten stronger these 20 years. And even though I had a devil of a time deciding for whom to vote on this Super Tuesday, my love affair with the democratic (or federal republic) process has only gotten more passionate with time, and I was as excited to vote this year as I was that day way back in 1988.

Heart of Mine

I am still having trouble with the fact that my baby is five. More than I am having with my own recent age upgrade.

He's still as sweet as ever though. On Saturday night, long after the party was over. After the Spider-Man cake and chocolate ice cream. After the laughing friends and perfect presents. After we'd gone out to celebrate his uncle's birthday at a big restaurant where the waitstaff sang Happy Birthday to both Brendan and Uncle Greg. Late in the night, in the quiet and dark, I held Brendan on my lap while giving him a breathing treatment after a coughing spasm. As he nestled his head against my neck, he said, Mommy, I will always let you hug and kiss me and I will love you forever.

Am I blessed or what?

Of course, I will remind him of this moment when he's an embarrassed 12-year old, pulling away from me as I try to hug him goodbye in front of his friends.

And I will carry that moment with me, in my heart, long after he's 10, 15, or 50. He will always be my first son, my darling boy.

If you want to see more pictures from the day, they're here.

Too Much Time On My Hands

I'm quiz-crazy tonight for some reason. It feels like the first time I've sat down all day and I guess I just need some mindless entertainment.

You Are Right Brained In Love

Bit of a drama queen Peacemaker, first to end a fight Good at thinking up creative dates Tend to fall in love and get hurt easily Going with your gut instead of your head Empathetic and caring, sometimes to a fault Good at recognizing patterns in relationships Been in love many times, perhaps too many to count Wildly passionate and intense when falling in love Spontaneous with relationships, going with the flow Overly visual - can play back past dates like movies in your mind Roses, love poems, and stuffed animals are a good start to winning your heart

Are You a Right Brained or Left Brained Woman in Love?

Roam If You Want To

You Belong in Rome

You're a big city soul with a small town heart Which is why you're attracted to the romance of Rome Strolling down picture perfect streets, cappuccino in hand And gorgeous Italian people - could life get any better?

What City Do You Belong In?

Heaven On Their Minds

One of the things I've been struggling with and touched on in a previous post is my inability to live up to my desire to be a good person and put away the petty thoughts and feelings of anger, jealousy, envy, and judgment. A big reason for this is that when Scott and I were married we chose the following passage as one of our readings and when we chose it we did so because we believed it and ever since then, I've been trying to live it.

"Teacher, 21 which commandment in the law is the greatest?"
37
He said to him, 22 "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.
38
This is the greatest and the first commandment.
39
The second is like it: 23 You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
40
24 The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments."

Rather than getting easier as time goes by, I am finding it more and more difficult and I don't know if it's because I've become more isolated by being at home or because I'm just getting more set in my ways and I have a reduced tolerance for bullshit. I don't know but I find myself increasingly challenged to live up these ideals.

And lately there is one person in particular who is challenging me in ways I never imagined I'd be challenged.

There is a new woman who joined my MOMS Club; I've actually mentioned her before. We had a disagreement about using pacifiers before we ever met in person. Once we met, I found out we went to the same tiny liberal arts, women's college. Our sons are roughly the same age. On paper, I should like her. And I've tried. I've really made an effort to bite my tongue and think positively. But I just can't stand this woman.

She's butch and physically unattractive to me and not by accident. I mean, her personal style choices are just bad. Okay. But that's not reason to dislike someone. Right? I think my perception there is just a manifestation of my dislike of her personality.

It seems that no matter what the topic we discuss in MOMS Club, she has an opinion. And I consider myself kind of left-wing and liberal and open-minded and open to alternative lifestyles and health choices. But this girl takes it to an extreme level in that she has to make an issue out of everything.

I kind of see this as an age-old problem with certain individuals on the fringe. Just as there is a group of right-wing nutjobs out there who want everyone to live the way they do, there is an equally annoying faction of liberal nutters who want everyone to live in grass shacks and use outhouses.

Okay. That last bit is an exaggeration. My point is that everyone needs to be free to live as he or she chooses and not have someone else telling them that the choices they are making are wrong.

If Miss Girl wants to use a neti pot to clear her sinuses, that's just ducky. But if I want to use store bought saline solution for myself or my kids, I don't need her writing a five-page essay on how I'm destroying my nasal cavity AND the Earth because it comes in a plastic bottle.

I don't tell her that she needs to lose approximately 50 lbs to be be healthy. Can she just shut up about whether or not the produce co-op we were invited to join is organic or not? Can you really be that obsessed with your health and be that fat?

See? This is what I'm talking about. I get mean. I don't want to think these things. I want to look at her with compassion and love. And I'm not doing that.

I feel like these honest, human emotions and thoughts are bad. I know that it's wrong of me to think this way. But every interaction with this girl just pushes my buttons. And challenges my beliefs.

I guess people like this are put into our lives to help us stretch and grow and reach for our personal best. It's easy to love the people who are like us and it is harder to love our enemies.

How do I get beyond these feelings of distaste, annoyance, and anger?

Let It Snow!

On Saturday, we got the first real snow we've had. The snow earlier in the week just left a light dusting that was melted away overnight by the rain that fell. However, Saturday's snow dropped a few inches, which is quite a lot to us Atlantans. We had a ball playing in it. I loved seeing Brendan enjoying this new experience and Scott and I really enjoyed playing in the snow, too.

We just went out to play with Brendan, but before we knew it, we had half the kids in the neighborhood in our yard having a snowball fight. It was awesome. I loved it! I love that the kids in our neighborhood are comfortable enough with us and each other to do that. Brendan, who is a little shy, kind of clung to the edges of the group and would only throw snowballs at me and his dad, but I think he enjoyed being a part of the fun. I don't know that it was like this for him, but for me, it was kind of like watching a movie. When I was a kid, I wasn't allowed to play in the snow because my mom thought I'd get sick. And guess what? Brendan did get sick and now I'm sick, but it was worth it to see him having such a wonderful time and to interact with our neighborhood kids in that way.

I hope it snows again before winter is over and we can do it again. Much of the snow melted before we got a chance to go back out and by Sunday most of it was gone. We never had a chance to build a snowman and I was pretty disappointed about that. Especially after seeing some of the creative and hilarious examples dotting the neighborhood.

If you're curious, you can check out some of our other photos at Flickr.

Sick Bed of Dawnulainn

What is up with all the sickness?

I have gone from being one of the healthiest people I know with the healthiest kid to someone in our house being sick constantly. I guess it started roughly a year ago. Almost exactly a year ago when a plague descended upon our house. Exhaustion from having a newborn and post-partum depression had taken their toll and I ended up with a sinus infection that spread to my eyes, the flu, and an outbreak of fever blisters. I remember the timing of it because it was the week before Brendan's birthday party and I was so worried we would have to cancel the party because I was so sick. Brendan's party is next week. Thankfully this year it's very low key. I'm not worried that I have to prove to him that we still love him even though he has a new sibling.

So, I'm just going to try and rest as much as I can the next few days and accept that the basement playroom will not be ready before the party and deal with it.

Scott is out at CVS right now getting me some Theraflu and then is going to stop at the Thai place to get me some super-spicy curry. Hopefully, that combination opens my sinuses up and we can move forward from there.

And hopefully Brendan's cough improves. I've been up with him the last three nights and think I caught this last night when he coughed so hard he threw up on me. At least I felt fine until sometime around 10 a.m. today when it all started going downhill fast.

So, on that note...Goodnight y'all. My food and Theraflu just arrived.

Taking Care of Business

I am loving my BusyBodyBook! It is proving to be a great system for me. I can see all of our calendars at a glance and it's ideal for me to keep up with my to-do list. I prefer jotting things down by hand to doing it on-line. So, even though I've used Ta-Da Lists with some success, this suits my personality better. And I love the pocket at the front of the book. This morning when I went out to run errands, I just stuck the things I had to mail, a check and deposit slip, and stamps right in there, so everything I needed for errands was neat and tidy and in one place instead of at the bottom of the diaper bag.

I just received an e-mail from Joan at About Your Time, makers of the BusyBodyBook. There's a great sale going on now until Groundhog's Day! Take a minute and check it out. This would make an excellent gift for the messy, unorganized person in your life.


20% OFF
In Honor

of

Punxsutawney Phil !
According to legend, if Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter weather.

It's FREEEZZZING here today. I'm so desperately hoping that Punxsutawney Phil is absolutely shadowLESS and to lure him out of his burrow now for an even earlier spring we're offering up a 20% discount on all of our BusyBodyBook products until the official Groundhog Day on Feb. 2.


Aug '07 - Sept '08 2008


The UNdated Fridge GRID Pad
Start planning for an early spring with BBB and save now when you enter discount code BBBSALE in the comment box at our checkout.

Wishing us all warmer weather!
Joan

About Your Time LLC
(973)761-6782

Everything Memes Nothing to Me

Merlot Mom just tagged me. I don't get tagged for memes very often (that's not an invitation to any of you wiseacres out there!). And since my sick-and-at-home big boy is otherwise occupied at the moment and playing nicely with baby brother, I have a minute to do this.

So, these are the rules: (1)Link to the person that tagged you. (2)Post the rules on your blog. (3)Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. (I apologize in advance!!!)(4)Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs. (5)Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website. Damn! That's a lot of work when you think about it. Ha! I'm kidding. It's fun!

WAIT! WE NOW INTERRUPT THIS BLOGCAST FOR A HURT TOE IN NEED OF A DORA BAND-AID! DETAILS AT 10:00!

...And now we join Belle Responds to a Meme, already in progress...

1. I always put my shoes and socks on sock/sock, shoe/shoe and I always start with my right foot. It feels weird to me to do it differently.

2. My very first dog's name was Dusty, hence my porn-star name would be Dusty Virginia if you follow the childhood pet/street name rule of name-making.

3. I have a strange affinity for the band Styx.

4. I worked hard to refine my Southern accent from a hick accent into one that sounded more proper. I did this after a friend made fun of me for saying yalla instead of yellow and thE-ATEr instead of theatre. My aspirational accent is Virginia Tidewater or Atlanta/Birmingham elite. Sadly, I can't remember the specific names for those accents. All that said, when I drink, my accent becomes more pronounced.

5. I love white and pink roses.

6. I sleep better when I'm touching someone I love. That includes my dog Cooper.

Okay. Tag you are it: Renn, Jen, http://thewonderkeepingthestarsapart.blogspot.com/, Jeremy, Mimi, and Melanie!

Death Letter

I can't say I was really a fan of Heath Ledger, but I found him likable enough and a good enough actor that I enjoyed him in movies.

For some reason, his death really made me sad today. I actually cried and I don't usually cry when famous people die. I think it's the idea of his little girl growing up without him. He seemed like a decent guy and a good dad. And it's always sad when someone dies so young and at the height of his or her career.

I made the mistake of going to a celebrity gossip site after hearing just a mention of his death on BBC America World News. I was mortified that the site had pictures of his body being removed from his building and a disgusting article about how much apartments rent for in his building. I am disgusted. I guess that's what I get. I just wondered how or why he died? I didn't need to know any other morbid details or know the square footage of the vacant apartment in his building and how much it rents for. In other words, I didn't need them to revel in the death of a successful person so some mediocre columnist at a third-rate gossip site could make himself feel better.

More and more, I find myself disgusted with this culture of celebrity gossip, the cult of personality. Is it any wonder poor Britney Spears can't keep it together? God bless her, but I know she had no idea what it is like to be a mother and all the responsibility it entails. It doesn't sound as though her mother did a very good job mothering her or her sister. And then every mistake the poor girl makes is blown out of proportion and put in neon lights for all the world to see.

I can attest to the fact that once you start doubting your parenting skills and making mistakes, if you don't believe in yourself it can all go to hell really fast. And there's no way that poor girl could believe in herself with the entire world judging her.

Again, I'm no fan of her as a singer or entertainer, but damn! I feel for her and any other mother out there whose day to day life is examined and judged in the way that hers is.

All that said, Miss Girl needs to get it together and she clearly needs help doing so.

But I ask, who are the childless 20-something writers at the gossip magazines to judge? And who are we, really? I mean, we all make mistakes. Every one of us probably has some stupid thing we've done – as a parent, a friend, a wife, a lover, a member of society – that we wish we could undo. But it's not our place to judge others. As hard as that may be. Trust me. It's a particular weakness of mine that I've struggled to overcome and I fail often. But I don't want anyone judging me for all the stupid things I've done, do, and am likely to do again. So, I try to work on it.

My apologies for going off on a tangent there, but obviously these issues have struck a nerve for some reason. I guess I'm just feeling my mommy-ness right now and these two situations just strike me as very, very sad for all the children involved and I find it disgusting that the celebrity media don't seem to take those babies into consideration when they're writing disparaging things about the parents or showing heartbreaking photos. You'd think they were raised by wolves.

Hey, Grandpa! What's for Supper?

Scott Peacock's Chicken and Rice
Creamed Cabbage
Black-eyed Peas
Cornbread

Words

I just heard Mitt Romney, on CNN, describe the U.S. Constitution as a piece of paper with a lot of words on it.

I have no words...

Can't Complain

Every time I start complaining lately, I find myself feeling guilty and horrible. When I get angry because my kids are being too loud and I can't hear myself think and all I want is a moment of silence, I find myself thinking about how there are so many parents out there who would give anything to hear the shouts and screams of their little ones, but can't because they've died of some terrible disease. When I get irritated because I'm trying to do something and Brendan wants to talk and talk and talk about some cartoon or a toy or something I'm not all that interested in at the moment, I think about all the parents of autistic kids who are trapped in their minds and can't talk at all. Lately, my life is an endless cycle of guilt.

I think bad thoughts about someone, judge the person for how I think she has hurt me or someone else, and then I think well, I should put myself in her shoes. What would I do if our roles were reversed? It's constant for me.

Whatever negative feelings I have, I immediately feel guilty for feeling them and feel they are either unjustified or someone else, some better person, wouldn't be feeling the way I feel.

Ugh! When did I become this neurotic freak who just isn't able to simply BE?

Brendan told me yesterday – after I asked him to forgive me for getting frustrated with him for not listening to me for the nth time – that he forgave me and that he always forgives everybody. And when he said it, he meant it. And he was so filled with goodness and kindness...I was broken-hearted by how much I love this kid and I just wish I knew how to be the perfect mother for him and his brother. How to be the perfect wife for Scott. The perfect friend.

I guess I just feel like I fuck up over and over again, let the people I love down by not having the time or energy for them I know they really need. Not being who or what they need. I always feel like I'm spread so thin. Other women do it and do more. And certainly with far more grace and far less anger and guilt and fear. I just keep thinking if I can just find the right magic bean to figure out who it is I am meant to be I can make everyone, including myself, happy and loved, and I can be successful and have it all – happy marriage, happy kids, happy friendships, happy, successful career, money, wonderful experiences, health, energy. I guess I want what most everyone else wants.

Of course, my first thought as I write that is how selfish I am for wanting those things. That all I should really want is world peace, for the poor and hungry of the world to be taken care of, blah, blah, blah.

I guess I just need to accept that this is where I am now, this is what I feel, and I'm not the Devil for feeling what I feel or thinking what I think. I simply AM.

Poison Oak

Okay. This is totally freaky. I just kind of had the TV on for background noise while I was surfing here this morning. And all of a sudden I look up and see the church I grew up in on TV. With the Oak Ridge Boys standing on the altar singing. Right behind them is the baptismal font where I was baptised when I was 16. The choir loft where I used to sing on Sunday nights. The balcony where I sat with my girlfriends, slipping each other notes. It's just a little weird and unexpected. Especially since the town I grew up in is tiny...only about 20,000 people. It is a suburb of Nashville, only about 30 miles away. But it's just kind of weird and unexpected and it makes me a little homesick and nostalgic.

Midnight Train to Georgia

Happy Friday, y'all.

I'm having a bit of a rough day emotionally, so I don't feel like writing much, but I wanted to share something cool with my Georgia readers that I just learned about.

It's the Georgia Blog Carnival, happening today over at Georgia Politics Unfiltered. Check it out for some links to some fascinating Georgia-centric blogs. And for a more complete, in-depth list of many, many cool Georgia-based blogs, check out the Georgia Blogroll over at Georgia On My Mind, a really cool site run by an elementary history teacher that features Georgia history, Georgia blogs, and Georgia goings-on. I just discovered it recently and love it.

Winter Wonderland

It's snowing! Whoooo-hooooo! Yay!

I'm so excited! I hope it sticks!

Listen to the Lion

So, I've been meaning to write about this and present this particular post for several days now. However, I needed to give this quite a bit of thought before I began writing.

You see, Rennratt gave me an award. It's the Roar for Powerful Words award, given writer to writer. And I am tickled pink as you can imagine. It's always a good feeling to know that someone likes and appreciates what you're doing. Especially when it's someone whose writing and talent you admire.

The award originated with a quite talented writer/journalist named Seamus Kearney and his writers' collective, Shameless Lions.


So, here's how it works, more or less:

"How does it work? Below are copies of the award that we can each distribute to those people who have blogs we love, can't live without, where we think the writing is good and powerful. I thought interested members could kick things off by publishing the award on their own blog, naming five people they would like to give it to (members or non-members), and accompany the image with three things they believe are necessary to make writing good and powerful. The recipients then do the same, passing it on to five other people, and so on."

Which five fellow bloggers do I admire? Who has the blogs I can't live without? Who writes well and powerfully? All good and interesting questions and ones I can't answer without acknowledging the fact that I probably shouldn't award the person who awarded me or anyone to whom she gave the award. So, that narrows my field by at least two. I just nominated a new favorite for a Perfect Post. So, with all that in consideration, here are some of my current favorites, though they are in no particular order (and if yours isn't here, that doesn't mean I don't adore you and your writing). I'm just being forced to choose.

Dancing On the Jetty:
I know Jeremy in real life and he's a good friend. One of the best, most salt-of-the-earth folks you will ever meet. When I worked as a copywriter, Jeremy was my proofreader. As long as I have known him, he has been a straight-shooter, but sincere and compassionate. His writing reflects those qualities. He has an infinite knowledge of music and film that seems to span every genre. He knows a ton about sports, especially baseball. He's more socially and politically-aware than your average bear and whenever I read his blog, I learn something.

Letters About Eve:
Letters About Eve chronicles the life of Jen, her husband Ben, and their beautiful daughter Evelyn. It's a private blog, so you probably can't access it, but I still want to acknowledge how much I love reading about Jen, Evie, and their adventures. Jen's husband Ben is in the Army and just came home after being deployed. They live on a farm with Jen's parents and reading about her wonderful family – Grammy and Grampers, Big Bro and Doc Rom, Uncle Stan – as well as the goats and other farm animals, Jen's work with an autistic kid, and soon her experiences in graduate school give me a peek into a life I will never experience. Her writing is so crystal clear and succinct. It reflects her joy of life without being cloying or sentimental. In essence, I think her clear, descriptive writing and the things Jen chooses to write about are illustrative of the true essence of the world family. Letters About Eve has become a blog I look forward to the way I look forward to a sunny day after a week of rain.

The Wonder Keeping the Stars Apart:
If I just stumbled onto this blog, I'd be compelled to read it, simply for the beauty of its title, which comes from this e.e. cummings poem. Again, I must admit that this blog's author, Suzanne, is a real world friend. We have a long and complicated history and she is someone that I genuinely love. Her writing is bright, witty, refreshing, and runs the gamut from her beloved Charleston, her brilliant legal career and her romance with Sweetie to national and international politics. It's like Sex in the City meets Face the Nation. But in her writing, you see her humanity...pain, joy, strength, vulnerability. Her writing is intelligent, often witty, and always cuts to the heart of the matter.

Suburban Turmoil:
Lindsay Ferrier is an excellent story teller. She has a natural gift for dialogue and a keen sense of the ridiculous in this world. I often find myself disagreeing or thinking that she's overly judgmental and harsh. Sometimes, she even comes across as mean-spirited. We're worlds apart on the topic of smocked clothes for boys. But still...I always come back for more. I think the ability to write funny, as it were is rare indeed. I would give my eye teeth to be able to tell a funny story. Sadly, I just don't got it! Lindsay does, though. The only blog that provides me with more laughs on a routine basis is Rennratt's. If you've never read it, you should definitely check it out.

A., Woman of Independent Means:
A. writes about as honestly and as much from the heart as any blogger out there. Her blog covers topics from raising her two children and life as the wife of a minister to her own career as a minister and the life she has put on hold in many ways to be there for her kids. She writes about the world at large and the world in her own home with care, passion, intelligence, and above all, honesty. She, like Jeremy, is a straight-shooter, but she is never snide, cynical, mean, judgmental or any of the other qualities that I find so distasteful about many bloggers. In fact, I tend to find A.'s writing inspiring and uplifting without being overly sentimental. Even in posts that express anger or dissatisfaction, I find comfort because I finally feel that someone else understands the maddening thoughts of my inner life.

Who Do You Love?

I found this little quiz over on James' blog, Right Face, and thought I'd take the test to see where I stand. I honestly think of myself as being very middle of the road, although I have considered myself a Hillary supporter since she was First Lady. Initially, I was a bit shocked by the results of the quiz, but when I thought about it, I realized it makes perfect sense. Ms. Clinton is not the raging liberal the Right makes her out to be. And as much as I want to like Obama there's just something there that makes feel I can't trust him. And don't get me started on Edwards. Lord. He makes my skin crawl and beside him, Bill Clinton looks like a Boy Scout to me. Edwards I totally do not trust. He's too smiley and his aww-shucks, cornponiness just rubs me the wrong way.

I do like John McCain and was surprised to see I don't line up more with his beliefs. I tend to be a bit hawkish on military issues, but I knew we didn't line up on Iraq (I say clean up our mess as much and as quickly as we can, then get out.), but still I thought I'd be a closer match.

So, there you go. Take the test and see where you fall.

85% Hillary Clinton
85% Chris Dodd
85% Barack Obama
83% John Edwards
75% Bill Richardson
70% Joe Biden
68% Dennis Kucinich
66% Mike Gravel
61% Rudy Giuliani
51% John McCain
42% Mike Huckabee
41% Mitt Romney
35% Tom Tancredo
29% Fred Thompson
26% Ron Paul

2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz

It's Not Safe

Meredith Emerson's murder and the possible other murders committed by this monster, Gary Michael Hilton, have really shaken me. I guess it's the idea that a serial killer was walking around within a few miles of my home, sometimes living in a park I've taken my children to, and mutilating and disposing of bodies in an area I used to go hiking in when I was the same age as the girl he murdered. It's really put me on edge and made me realize that I need to become more aware of my surroundings.

Last year there was a mugger or armed robber who targeted moms with small kids who would have to be put into car seats. He would wait in the parking lot until he saw the women putting the kids in the car and then approach them from behind, put a gun to the back of their heads and rob them, threatening to either kill them or their kids. Again, in the area where we live. He robbed one woman in the Whole Foods parking lot at the store I used to frequent once a week. Oh, yeah. He did this in broad daylight. He was eventually caught and arrested, but that made me start paying more attention to who was around when I had the kids with me.

But this just brings the issue of safety to the forefront of my mind again.

This article appeared in the AJC today and has some good tips. There is also information at the end of the article about free self-defense classes for women which are being sponsored by local radio station Q100.

The only bit of advice I have to add to the tips offered by the article is something a former cop told me once. He said never let an attacker get you in the car. If someone tries to carjack you, or push you into a car (yours or theirs) let them kill you on the spot before you get in the car. He said either way, you'll end up dead, but at least if they kill you on the spot your family will have you to bury and maybe someone will see or hear it happen.He said that very few people who get abducted are ever found at all. I always have that in my mind as horrible as it is. And I don't even know if it's true, but it sure sounds plausible.

Learning to Fly

The moral of today's story, folks, is don't get too big for your britches. I was so pleased with myself last night for cleaning my kitchen and shining my sink as the FlyLady recommends. I had Brendan's lunch packed and his breakfast all laid out and ready to go. His backpack was packed and ready. I was so full of my newfound excitement over being organized that I decided to get my automatic coffeemaker all set up and ready to make my coffee and have it waiting for me when I awoke. I was thinking, Wow, I am off to one excellent start on this efficiency thing! Look at me!

So, where did I go wrong? I know that's what you're asking yourself. Right?

In my being so pleased with myself, I managed to forget to put water in the coffeemaker. So, when I awoke, I got to have the wind taken out of my sails a little. Still, I had a pretty good start to the morning. Because I had most everything done that needed to be done before Brendan gets up for school, I had time for prayer and meditation and to blog a little.

It's going to be a great day!

Oh Mercy

If anyone came in my house at the moment, I'm really not sure what they'd think. I'm not sure what I think...

I'm halfway through taking down our interior decorations, but there are boxes, rolls of wrapping paper, and used gift bags all over the foyer. In my living room where I am right now, Brendan is pumping a tire pump pretending to put air in my exercise ball while Beckett walks around him in a circle repeatedly while holding a plastic Peter Rabbit bowl. Going by the quizzical look on his face, Beckett seems to be trying to figure out what the heck his brother is doing.

Me? I just finished taking down the outdoor decorations, cleaning and repairing the gutter on the front of the house, and placing all the exterior decorations in their proper places (wreaths hung on hooks in the garage; lights, garland, and hangers in a plastic bin, labeled and in the attic.). I also put all my fall decorations (a witch, some berry garland, and some autumnal wreaths) in their own bin and put that in the attic as well.

Before this unusual sibling ritual began, I thought I'd take a break and check my e-mail, then get right back to work. But this was too funny and bizarre not to mention.

Now that they've performed their dance of brotherly fascination, Brendan has decided to start taking his favorite decorations of the tree and this has caught baby brother's attention, too. I think it's time to intervene....