The Longest Post Ever Written, Ever

I’ve been composing this entry since about 5:00 p.m. today while in my car, so forgive me if it’s a bit disjointed, ‘cause there’s a lot of information in me that wants to get out. It’s been swimming around in my brain all afternoon and I’ve been saying, “hold onto it, just hold onto these thoughts,” because they’re good ones and I don’t want to lose them. There’s going to be run-ons and stream-of-consciousness, though, because all of a sudden today -- this week, really -- I am VERY conscious. Meaning I have lots of thoughts. That want to pour out. So pour, they shall. Forgive me in advance, it’s going to be Lo-Hong.

What I wanted to title this was The Navy Blue Girl with the Little Umbrella, and channel her because when it rains, it pours, and it has been pouring on me lately. In the form of:

…Work…
I mean to tell you, I am BUSY as a little bee these last coupl'a weeks. It’s going well, actually – much to my surprise I am enjoying the art of Project Management for two clients, whose websites are being produced in roughly the exact same time frame. With roughly the exact same designers and writers doing both. And meanwhile writing content for a third site. And meanwhile, needing to input content for a fourth site, that I wrote months ago, but all of a sudden after sitting, is hot-hot-hot. IT’s a little crazy. I send emails all day and coordinate this and don’t forget that, and schedule one thing right as I’m crossing another off my list. (And this is NOTHING, NOTHING in comparison to the work that some of my colleagues do every day who happen to read this blog; just want them to know I realize that my blip on the screen is their MAJOR PROJECT!, and I appreciate very much the idea that they do really hard work day in, day out.) But I’m rather swamped. Yesterday as I walked in my clicky high-heeled sandals to our weekly tech meeting, carrying my laptop with me and feeling a little bit self-important, I thought of my best friend MB. She’s been a SAHM her whole married life, and has often said how she envies me and my career. I thought, “This is exactly the kind of situation she probably craves –- got my hair all done, wearing a skirt and a new blouse, feeling all career-minded, carrying my laptop. So “Executive” am I. And she WANTS this. And that made me LIKE IT just that tiny bit more, yesterday. Not that I want her jealous, that’s not what I mean –- just that there’s someone out there in the world who’d like to do this, and I GET to do it. But then today, after sending the aforementioned emails and coordinating etc., it all bubbled up in my head and seemed so superficial and so unnecessary. All this random crap, paperwork, clients, office supplies, deadlines –- I don’t know what to do about it but because I was feeling overwhelmed, I guess, my brain started wanting to release it all –- just to scatter it away because it’s too much, too much stupid bogus rat-racing. Maybe that’s how this post got started. Anyway, those are my thoughts about work.

…Choir and Life…
Okay, here’s the real reason I got all “twitterpated” to use a word my friend used recently and I hadn’t heard in a hundred years, and love. I called my old choir director today. “Old” meaning former. He has recently asked me to be a part of (or at least audition* for, but I’m guessing I’m already guaranteed a spot by his tone) a holiday play called “Herod” that he’s worked on for years and years – it’s a very respected work in the Atlanta arts community, I think, (or at least by one woman I know who’s tuned into the Atl Arts scene), locally written I believe, and choral and plainsong (kinda chant-like but not quite so medieval). He’s complimenting me more than he knows by telling me my voice would be perfect for it. He’s told me twice, and each time my head swells a teensy bit. And he asked me to consider it last year and I had to turn him down ‘cause AJ was still so little. So, okay, what’s the big deal? AJ’s not that little anymore. It'd be GOOD music, something I enjoy singing, as opposed to the crapola that I mentioned last week. This Director, Director-K, we’ll call him, is a respected musician, Director of Choirs for the cathedral, the seat of the Archdiocese, the last 20 years, and he LIKES MY VOICE –- it seems to be a pretty easy decision that I’d very politely say, “Thank You, Mr. Director-Sir, I would LOVE to be in your play, thank you again, and see you on Wednesday!” That’s a no-brainer. That’s something you WANT to do -– sing gorgeous, ethereal music in a stone cathedral. Yes, yes, yes, no brainer. Except. Sigh..... Except it’s another 2 nights a week that I’d be away from my boy. At least two, in addition to Wednesday, when I sing in the St. J’s choir (the one that SU-hucks, but to which I’m feeling sorta committed and loyal and it hasn’t even been a year since I joined it). So what to do? I’m going to be out of town for Christmas anyway, so perhaps it’d be a great excuse to go “on sabbatical” from St. J’s this fall, since next week I believe we’ll be starting the Christmas music anyway. And then go right back and resume my position in January as if nothing happened, and everyone’s happy. Except in my self-important way, I’m thinking I’m kinda a decent soprano at St J’s, and that Director, Director-J we’ll call him, relies on me quite a bit. Not to carry the section, (not that I’m going to say that OUT LOUD), but just to be there, on time, when I’m supposed to be. You know. And besides that, I read music which is helpful. And which precious few other of the St J’s choir members do, actually. (ahem, meow, and all that).

So, (new paragraph, you’re welcome), does it become SELFISH and VAIN for me to want to do this other performance? OR is it me being ME, and taking the time to develop my skills and hobbies and be my best self, thus delivering me as a better Mommy and Wife because I’m happy with who I am and what I’m doing with my life. Or is it the selfish one? I just can’t reconcile the time away from AJ, although Husband has said emphatically that he’ll support me and do whatever he needs to do if I really want this. So Helpful, he is. And not that AJ is old enough to remember, anyway, but he’s still at the separation anxiety stage and I can hardly bear hearing him cry 3 nights a week as I walk out the door… even though I KNOW, I know he goes right back to playing 5 minutes later. But if this opportunity is of the “best self” variety, do I quit the other choir to lessen my own guilt? And how about that Husband? How about I spend a little time with him once in a while, huh? Oh, SIGH. And how many times will Director-K (the important one) keep asking me to do this, and hear me turn it down, before he stops? Sometimes ya gotta strike while the iron’s hot, y’know. Get while the getten’s good. Snap up that worm. Etc.

I could write another book about choir, and taking myself less seriously in the face of all this contemporary vs. traditional, good bad and otherwise music, and actually hearing the words of verse two: “Open my Ears, Lord, help me to Hear Your Voice…. And we’ll speak in new ways, and we’ll see God’s face….” – speak in new ways, that’s the line that got me -– that maybe with my ears and heart open and less focused on what we're NOT singing, I’ll learn that this contemporary stuff isn’t so bad, and wow, what a reward, to see God’s face in all that… and then another book about the crickets and tree-frogs singing their own (probably contemporary) music during my drive home through the National Forest, meanwhile I’m listening to Beethoven on Karl Haas’s show on NPR… hmm. But Lordy, this is getting longer and longer.

…AJ…
Ending on a fun note, I am LOVING the teacher in AJ’s Infant 2 room. Miss S. She has privataely told me AJ’s her favorite and I can only hope that she says the very same thing to all the other parents. But man, is she good. She really gives me the full report at the end of the day telling me who he played with and what he liked and didn’t’ like and how much or how little he cried. And… AND! Today that included he has a little GIRLFRIEND!!! Hee hee! I am so in love with this: she said that Anna has taken to him with a nickname and everything, and that today they walked around HOLDING HANDS. OMG is that the cutest thing you have ever heard??? They’re ONE!!! Year old, I mean! Bless her for telling me that. Husband said, “Son, they have COOTIES, don’t you know??” hahahaha. Precious. Precious.

Meanwhile, someone in the class has Stomatitis, from the Foot-n-Mouth category of highly contagious illnesses, ewww, so I certainly hope all of that hand-holding isn’t going to get him into trouble at such a young age! Of course they disinfected the whole place multiple times and kicked the sick kid out, but still. A mother worries.

My GAWD, does it feel good to have it all out. I told you it pours.

*Edited to add that the real obstacle is that the audition gathering is TOMORROW, at 6:30pm, which is of course AJ’s dinner-time and not the easiest time to be traveling to the center of town, especially considering Darling Husband can’t be home before 6:30 (especially not on short notice), and I can’t ask the neighbor because I still owe her from the dogs last weekend, and this is when it would be really handy to have my mother living across the street. So do I take him with me and pray to St. Cecelia (surely she was a mother as well as a singer?) that he doesn’t create holy hell and distraction while Mommy’s trying to sound like an angel? Do I give him a BOTTLE, from which he’s been officially WEANED, but which I know will occupy his mouth for at least 10 minutes and keep the noise levels down? For crying out loud. I guess it’s all I can really do, though...

Why iTunes makes it better

Tuesday again, the warmly welcomed morning at home alone, with coffee and my laptop. And this morning it's even more wonderful because I've been furiously ripping CDs to iTunes these last few days. My CDs. For Christmas, I have asked DH to get me an iPod. Yeah,yeah, behind the times, I know, but better late than never. I am forever indebted to my husband, mind you, for introducing me to a lot of great artists, like Liz Phair and Modest Mouse and the Judybats, but his collection is a little bit heavy on Unknown-Alternative, and sorely lacking in Cutting Crew and Amy Grant and Lyle Lovett (with his Large Band). So today I've heard all three of those, plus a little Norah Jones, and I'm purring like a little kitten with a dish of milk all to herself. Purrrrrr.

If only iTunes could toast a bagel, we'd be all set.

Entree, side dish, salad, dessert

Today I have made a new kind of list. It is relative to the never-ending grocery list, and certainly dependent on the weekly menu listing I always try to make. It is the "Dinner Guests" list. There are about 6 different families/couples that DH and I constantly say, "We need to have them over for dinner," and never do. SO -- starting this week I'm going to be inviting people. First, the next-door neighbors, whose dogs I said we'd look after this weekend, right before we made plans to be out of town. Ooops. I probably owe the across-the-street-neighbors, too, who ended up pinch-hitting for me. Let the stress fun begin.

I really like having people over, actually. I get that from my Dad, who'd have guests every night if he could. My Mom is not as keen on that idea, but she does an amazing job of being hostess when he plans a party of 15 without telling her first (asking?)! My DH gets a wee bit more stressed about entertaining -- he wants the house to be perfect and spotless before even considering letting the world in to see. Me? I mean, yeah, it'd be nice, but.... bah. If my dust bunnies scare you, don't look in the corners. Come be with us and laugh with us and eat our food.

Here are some yummy things I have made for guests:
Jerk Chicken on the grill. (Grilling is always a winner because it gets the husband involved and he shines at it). Side items: yellow rice, maybe "party broccoli," chips and dips.
BBQ Brisket. One of Mom and Dad's standards. With pinto beans and coleslaw on the side.
Gumbo. What could be easier? Throw it all in the pot. Cook up some rice. Done.
Chili. Especially good for Monday night football get-togethers.
Taco Salad. One of my favorites and easy as pie. -- Oooh, pie! That, too.
Lasanga, Ceasar, and Garlic Bread. Who doesn't cook this? I am not above Stouffer's, either. :)

You know, none of these things is gourmet. It'd be nice to get all trendy and do something with feta, but... well, maybe I have extraordinarily forgiving friends, because when I don't go nuts over the menu, I can relax and enjoy the company. So, this is one of my goals for the next few months (before the holiday craziness begins). To feast and fete and fellowship (v.) with friends.

Mini-break

We're off to visit the paternal grandparents this weekend, so they can smooch on AJ at will (and we can go out on a real live date). They haven't seen him in a while and I feel an eensy bit bad that my parents, semi-retired, get to see him whenever they want. Of course, it's just like when I was a kid -- my Mom's parents lived far away and my Dad's were in town. Luckily, you don't grow up loving one set any more or less than the other -- it all works out just fine. :) I'm blessed to have very nice people for in-laws. They're not quite like me, but easy enough to get along with. AND, they're providing some very superfluous new toys for AJ! Just what he needs! Let's hope that at least one of them has Elmo on it. (Mo-mo, our new best friend!)

We'll be sans Internet for the weekend and sans clean laundry when we return, so I bid you a temporary farewell -- I gotta get busy packing, and/or cleaning the dog cr*p out of the bottom of my shoe, thanks to this morning's "recess," during which I did not pay attention to where I was stepping, because I was busy talking to three different neighbors who popped outside to say hi. Eww. (The dog mess, not the neighbors. The neighbors are quite nice).

Get out the Twizzlers, we're goin' on a road trip. :)

And in entertainment news...

With their debut album certified platinum, country music's latest sensation is local Atlanta trio, Sugarland, and they aced the CMA award nominations yesterday -- that's Country Music Association for you non-believers -- with three, including Vocal Group of the Year!

The reason this is so exciting for me is that I feel like I know them. I don't, really, but see the lone guy in the group? That's Kristian Bush, and I've been a fan of his since way back when he played The Depot at Emory University in 1992 with his then-musical-partner, Andrew Hyra. They were 2 guys with guitars, folk-rock to the Nth degree, and I absolutely fell in LOVE with it, and with them. They wrote cutting lyrics and singable melodies -- my kind of tunes. I have every album. I saw them at least 8 times. My roommate and I shared this little fan-dom, and we weren't alone -- Billy Pilgrim, as they named their act, still has scores of devoted fans although they broke up several years ago. Some of their fans are annoyingly rabid -- to the point where they're still whining in emails to the list-serv, "Why doesn't BP get back together?!?!" (Yes, I'm still on the list-serv.)

Meanwhile, Kristian has taken this wonderful turn with his music and is SUCCEEDING! It's impressive because he's thirty-something. He has a wife and a little boy. He has played the local bar circuit and sold CDs out of his trunk his whole life. BP did well, and signed with Atlantic records at one point, but it wasn't the perfect management situation for them, so they gave it up. And how courageous of them -- the chance to be on a major label, but they didn't want it if they couldn't be in control of the music. And now lookee -- he's Platinum! He's going to win a national award! He is so cool. And yes, yes I did: I knew him when. Sort-of.

One of the band's managers/closest friends -- she's mentioned in the liner notes, right at the top! -- works here, at my company, during the daylight hours. So my degree of separation is ONE, direct to my musical hero (and, admittedly, one of my few celebrity crushes, hee). Guess that makes this entry less congratulatory and more "screaming girly fan." But really, I'm very proud of them. They deserve it, no doubt about that.

Summer beauty

This afternoon, we saw our Butterfly.

AJ and I have been noticing, when we play outside in the yard, this year's abundance of butterflies. Have you noticed them, too? I've never before seen such big, beautiful ones so often. Of course, I've never played outside so much, not since I was a kid. ;) So we've been watching for them. He seems to be intrigued, which is adorable. He turns his head and follows their scattered flight patterns, and calls out to me, "Buuuuhhhh---?" Which is his way of saying "Buuuuutter-fly!" like Mommy does. I have visions of a little boy with a white net on a stick, running after the butterflies in a glowy, hazy summer dream...me, watching him from the window, smiling, wistfully.... then I remember he's not quite there yet. But I am. If it weren't for needing to stay by him and make sure he doesn't trip on our uneven driveway and sidewalk, I'd run and jump and laugh with every one. The big, yellow and black and blue (gorgeous!) ones, and the little solid-butter-yellow ones, and even sometimes the brown moths, which catch my eye because I'm absolutely Waiting for something to flutter in my peripheral vision.

Lepidoptera, in case you were wondering the scientific name.

So today, we were coming home from work and from daycare, and as always, we trekked out onto the driveway with Napoleon and his tennis ball, all the way to the mailbox to get the mail. We have Gerber daisies and a perennial red dianthus planted there, so it's a good cultivating spot, I guess. I wasn't much paying attention, but very softly, she alighted in the dianthus and went about her work -- it looked like she was harvesting nectar, although I didn't realize they did that. (How dumb am I? I never took botany or horticulture, I guess.) And I whispered, as loudly as I could, "AJ!!! Come over here quick, and see the Butterfly!" It was hard to keep the environment safe and welcoming for her, what with a 65-pound Lab panting and smacking and pawing at his tennis ball, and at me. But she stayed, and continued her fluttering, for at least 10 minutes. She'd be off and about for a minute or two, across to the neighbor's yard, up, up into the trees, then back down again. And kept returning to our garden. I was so honored. So blessed. And AJ quieted down and really stood there and watched her with me, up close, her wings moving more slowly as she drank that nectar. My arms around his little waist, his mouth open in wonder, my heart racing with excitement.

I wanted to freeze that moment. Instead, I tried to get too close. My granola neighbor, upon learning that AJ is into butterflies lately, showed off his skillz last weekend and let one of the big pretty yellow ones sit on his finger for a minute. So I got all ambitious and tried to do the same, today, and she realized she was being watched. She wasn't as into us as we were into her! She flew far away. But I do hope she'll come back. I am sure, in my little personal fiction, that we keep seeing the same one over and over. Sweet, sweet buuuuuter-fly.

(Something about butterflies, and having a mini-obsession with them, strikes me as very '70s all of a sudden. Next thing you know I'll get a screen-printed t-shirt -- or better yet, a glitter decal -- of the Butterfly, the Unicorn, and the Rainbow all holding hands and singing "I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke." But I don't care. She's pretty. I like her. If I was a homeschool Mom, we'd have a unit on Leo...Luh....I mean, Lepidoptera.)

Mirror, mirror, on the wall

I'm as vain as Snow White's Queen, y'all.

I'm wearing my hair back in a barette today, for the first time in about 10 years (besides Sis's wedding). As a matter of fact, even 10 years ago when I had long-ish hair, in college, I rarely put it in a barette. I was a headband girl. But anyway, today, since it's still in the "growing" stage, there are bits and pieces that stray All The Damn Time and it's driving me crazy. As a result, I've been to the restroom about One Hundred Times to play with it. And re-position it. And re-do. And finger-comb. And gaze, gaze, gaze into the mirror. It's vanity in its purest form! How do I look?!?! I even went to Target to buy some new Hair Implements, since mine are from about 1989. Sis* says I can just play off the stray pieces as "Sexy-Messy," like Elliott on Scrubs. Great idea! Sexy-Messy. I can aspire to that.

*To whom I owe most of the content of this blog. She's awful sweet to let me gack everything she says and publish it here.

IM me

re: choir woes

Here's where I point out how much of a music snob I am, and how I wish I could find a traditional church choir that sings the OLD HYMNS like "Faith of our Fathers" and "Lift High the Cross." Instead, we have a mix of about 1/3 those old greats and 2/3 things like the following. Sigh. It's okay. But sometimes it gets to me, how we're ignoring the years and years of good music in the Catholic church... hello, things like Mozart and Beethoven and, who's that other guy? Oh yeah, St. Gregory of Gregorian chant fame.... music that transcends time and connects us with our forefathers and mothers. We've focused so much on adding the modern things from contemporary Christian radio because we're all very "open minded." Don't get me wrong, I love some of the CC things. On the RADIO. Or in the "contemporary" service. There's a time and a place. Anyway, without further adieu, my sister and I, talking about the contemporary song my choir studied at rehearsal last Wednesday:

MySelf says: (2:27:03 PM)
YES!! On to happier things!

MySelf says: (2:27:20 PM)
ummm...... *crickets*.....

Sis says: (2:27:28 PM)
hahaha

MySelf says: (2:28:31 PM)
My choir SUCKS! How 'bout that? We're singing "With one Vooooice, we'll pass the Word along! With one voooooiiiiice, bring justice to the wooooooorld!" CLAP CLAP CLAP --claps written into the Freaking Score!!!! Bllllahghghghg. I could die.

Sis says: (2:29:17 PM)
Ewwwwww! And you're actually doing the claps? Yuck!!!!! and cheesy words, too.

MySelf says: (2:30:30 PM)
NO way will I do the clapping. (she says resolutely, knowing she will). It's too much. AND --- ANNND! He's hired a DRUMMER for the 10:45am "traditional" Mass!!! Or else the guy volunteered. But I'm saying, "TRADITIONAL" does not mean Rock and Roll Drummer!!! Let him play ANY other mass but not this, this Last Vestige of Musical Decency!!!!

MySelf says: (2:30:51 PM)
(which isn't even that decent anymore!)

Sis says: (2:31:42 PM)
can't the choir argue that you can't CLAP and hold music at the same time? All clapping must be nixed. And oh, geez, a drummer? no other instruments, just drums and piano/organ? Horrifying.

MySelf says: (2:32:26 PM)
Probably flute and violin, too. It IS horrifying. What a perfect word. LOL

MySelf says: (2:34:05 PM)
Of course now that stinking song is in my head!

Sis says: (2:34:06 PM)
flute, violin, and frums. what a perfect trio!

Sis says: (2:34:06 PM)
drums

Sis says: (2:34:15 PM)
i'm glad I don't know it

Sis says: (2:34:52 PM)
we're going to go to the cathedral on Sunday and hear the big choir and fancy organ. I'll think of you, being miserable, clapping to the beat of the drum.

MySelf says: (2:35:28 PM)
I know! How divinely inspired, right?! Oh, and the worst thing is that it's for "nine-eleven," which is what Director calls the week after this one -- he refuses just to say Sunday, the 11th. It's NINE-ELEVEN. The ANNIVERSARY. Gggggag. "Bringing justice to the world.... (like Iraq?)."

MySelf says: (2:35:47 PM)
LUKCY YOU, going to the cathedral! I will listen from afar.

Sis says: (2:36:03 PM)
teehee! can't stop laughing

Sis says: (2:36:14 PM)
9/11. whoa

Sis says: (2:36:27 PM)
justice to the terrorists

MySelf says: (2:36:29 PM)
My pain, your laughter. No, I'm kidding. it's so awful it's funny.

Sis says: (2:37:56 PM)
good luck trying to keep a straight face next sunday

MySelf says: (2:38:23 PM)
seriously!!

MySelf says: (2:38:26 PM)
I may have to leave.

MySelf says: (2:38:51 PM)
It WOULD be inappropriate to be laughing out loud in the middle of such a MOVING presentation!! hahahaha!!!!!!

Sis says: (2:39:22 PM)
moving, yeah. moving folks out of the choir maybe

MySelf says: (2:39:47 PM)
lollolol!

Nicest things I've heard

Among all the severely depressing news about Louisiana and Mississippi -- which continues to make me cry every time I turn on the TV or NPR -- I have heard a couple of very encouraging things.

-- Governor of Mississippi, this morning, saying "...we're gonna 'hitch up our britches'..." and get things back in order as fast as possible. Makes me want to hug him. "Hitch up our britches."

-- Atlanta Falcons player Warrick Dunn, challenging every player in the NFL to donate (at least) $5,000.00 to disaster relief. The total would be in the 2 billions. I am now a big fan of Warrick Dunn. (And of the Falcons, who've ALL already ponied up, according to reports.)

-- In Houston, at the Astrodome, some guy who owns a pizza restaurant has his employees (and himself, I presume) over there making pizzas for the refugees. Now THAT is a great way to contribute. It's the little things, you know? But hell, FOOD is rather a big thing. Kudos to him.

It's a disaster down there (understatement of the year) and I can't imagine how in the world the relief organizations can even organize themselves, right there in the thick of it, to get anything accomplished. The name "organization" is sort-of a misnomer in this situation. They're more like "relief intentions." But there are so many local aid efforts going on, all around the country, that are going to make a big difference. Eventually. I hope.

Lullaby and good night

This is for posterity. I want to remember all the lullabies I ever sang to AJ. Don't bother reading it if you're not into lullabies. :)

Also wondering if any of you (besides my mom and sister) know any of these sweet songs.

Frog Went A'Courtin', which Grandmother (Mom's mom) sang to me:
Froggy went a'courtin' and he did ride, mm-mm.
Froggy went a'courtin' and he did ride,
A sword and pistol by his side, mm-mm.

He took Miss Mousie on bended knee, mm-mm.
He took Miss Mousie on bended knee,
Said, "Miss Mousie, will you marry me?" Mm-mm.

"Without my Uncle Rat's consent," said she...
"Without my Uncle Rat's consent I would not marry
The President," mm-mm.

Then Uncle Rat, he soon came home, mm-mm.
Then Uncle Rat, he soon came home.
"Who's been here since I've been gone?" mm-mm.

"A pretty little dandyman," said she.
"A pretty little dandyman
Who says he wants to marry me." Mm-mm.

"Where will the wedding breakfast be," mm-mm.
"Where will the wedding breakfast be?"
"Way down yonder, in a hollow tree." Mm-mm.

"What will the wedding breakfast be?" Mm-mm.
"What will the wedding breakfast be?"
"Three green beans and a black-eyed pea," mm-mm.

Then Uncle Rat gave his consent, mm-mm.
Then Uncle Rat gave his consent, and
That's the way the marriage went, mm-mm.

Froggy and Mousie went to France, mm-mm.
Froggy and Mousie went to France, and
That's the end of my romance, mm-mm.

The storybook sits on the shelf, mm-mm.
The storybook sits on the shelf,
If you want more, you'll have to read it yourself! Mm-mm.

In the Evening, which my Granny (Dad's mom) sang to me:
In the evening, when the daylight goes,
Little Flowers all begin to close.
Mama holds her little one
Quite close against her breast,
So that like the other Flowers,
He, too, may go to rest.
Angels, dear, hover near.
Watch o'er my darling boy tonight,
Stars so bright, shine your light.
Watch o'er my darling,
Keep him safe from fear.

The Angel Band/Harps of Gold (also from Granny)
"We come, we come
With our harps of gold,
From a far-off Summer Land.
The crystal River we've crossed again,
We've left the Angel Band
To bring to you on our harps of gold
Sweet Music from afar!"
With cadence soft, the angels sing
As they glide from star to star.

Rock-a-Bye, Baby, which my own Mom sang to me, and sings to AJ

(And here are some other songs I have sung when I'm tired of those top four:)
Do-Re-Mi
I Love You a Bushel and a Peck
Simple Gifts
If I Were a Butterfly
Slumber Song (Sleep, Oh My Darling)
Pirate Dreams (These last two were tucked into the far corners of my memory; I sang them in voice lessons when I was, like, 12. It was hard work to recall all the lyrics, but I did it in the deep, dark hours of those midnight feedings, when AJ was tiny.)
The Farmer in the Dell
Hush, Little Baby, Don't Say a Word (once I finally figured out all the words)

Overwhelmed

Hurricane Katrina aftermath. I can't stop listening to the news, and at the same time I can't bear to think about it. I want to do something to help, and I also want to distance myself far from the sadness and depth of the tragedy. A friend lost her father in Mississippi -- a falling tree killed him. That's so unreal. And yet it's not; it actually happened. To someone I know. My mom has elderly cousins in southeast Louisiana -- rural towns that no one's even heard from yet. These are people I know -- people I've spent holidays with -- people who tell wonderful stories with a natural, absolutely endearing Cajun accent. And we aren't sure if they're okay because they had called us beforehand to say they were going to ride it out. (In truth, it probably would have been difficult for them to pack up hurriedly and leave, so I don't even blame them for staying.) It's just too much; I am sad for our country, for the very special city of New Orleans, and for all the devastated victims. If you or your family are among them, I'm praying for you.

Fish tacos

Today is Tuesday -- the best day of the week as far as I'm concerned, besides Saturday of course. On Tuesdays, my team at work has a 10am meeting in Midtown. Since our new office is FAR and FAR from Midtown, our manager doesn't make us go in before the meeting, provided we check email and phone messages and generally get something done at home (as far as he knows). My Darling Husband drives AJ to daycare, and ergo.... I have the whole morning all to myself. See how that works?

I just vacuumed the upstairs, a quick little task of 3 bedrooms and two tile floors when I'm not using the hose on the lamps and bookshelves (which is never). DH is much more thorough. It isn't fun to vacuum, but the feeling of having it done is quite nice. Now I'm sitting down with a creamy, steamy cup of cafe au lait and my blog. Sweet bliss. Listening to the "O Brother, Where Art Thou" soundtrack. ("Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side, keep on the sunny side of life!") The dog's at my feet, snoozing quietly. It was rainy all night and still kind-of is, making for my favorite kind of weather.

Even better than all this is that, after our 10am meeting, I will drive the short distance to this restaurant, one of Atlantans' favorites, and I will order Fish Tacos and corn chowder and I will eat and be very satisfied. I will also remember to purchase a to-go order for my Darling Husband. And then he will be happy, which actually makes me happiest of all.

New clickies*

Two of my recent favorites have been added to the Good Reads list over there ...take your place of honor, ladies! [Trumpet fanfare! Tah-doo-doo-dah!] I have many blogs bookmarked, but only a few make the link-to-me cut. It means I consider your writing superior. Congratula-see-ons!

Indigo Girl is a woman of exceptional strength and vigor, as she is raising, in her words, "two Junior Mints." Twins, people! God loveher. She writes brilliantly -- and, a lot! of which I'm jealous -- and has spectacular insight into the ages and stages. (Also, her girls are about the same or a little ahead of AJ's age and development, so I'm getting tips and tricks from her! Bonus!)

And thatgirl, from Dance As if Nobody is Watching, observes gently, astutely and hilariously as her little ones grow; her youngest is 9 months (making ME look like the expert with tips and tricks -NOT-); she has enough archives to keep me busy on the off-chance I ever have a whole sick day all to myself; and she lives with a real-live Cowboy, how cool is that?? (being originally from Texas myself, I think that is very cool.)

Thanks for helping me procrastinate, new friends!

*Term stolen right from suburban misfit, who's inching her way right up onto my list, as well.

Oh dear oh dear oh dear

(Notice my overuse of three-repeat headlines lately? What does that mean, do you think?)

Nervous for a friend of mine who, at this moment, is having a Conversation. With her Boss. Who's also my Boss. Eeeeeeeeeek.

Music review: Foo Fighters' new album -- the 2nd acoustic disc -- is fantabulous. Dave Grohl has a really beautiful singing voice. It's too bad the 1st disc in the set consists of him screeching for 10 songs. I can't get into too much of that, although I've only listened once. We'll see if it grows on me. (I doubt you thought I listened to the likes of FF! Surprise!)

AJ review: Woke up coughing this morning. I am In Prayer that he doesn't have Croup, for which there is a sign on the daycare door: "A student in Infant 1 has been diagnosed with Croup." We're in Infant 2, mind you, but that doesn't mean we haven't been exposed. Still... hello, scare tactics. As if it's the Pox or Ebola. My faithful Dr. Sears says this: "Is Croup contagious? Yes, it is about as contagious as the common cold. Good hand washing is important to prevent spread." So, perhaps not a life-or-death threat as advertised. But, dear me. Don't be sick, Baby. I've got my cool-mist humidifer at the ready, just in case he starts barking.

Storm review: Good lord, we're all the way to K. Poor Pensacola, home of my entire extended family, is supposed to be bracing for another Fun Time Hurricane. I don't wish any harm to anyone, but... go to Texas, Katrina. They're tougher and less battle-scarred over there -- they can handle you, Miss Category 2-and-a-half. We've had enough of your kind in the Panhandle of F-L-A.

Wimpy, wimpy, wim-py

I think I remember that others of you out there in the universe do this, too: When you're having an "issue" with your husbands or friends or co-workers, sometimes it's easier to "confront" them with an email than in person. I just did that. Husband and I are dealing with an "issue" -- nothing to worry about and thanks for your concern -- but I wasn't brave enough to just bring it up last night. I had to write him an email. Is that so cowardly of me? It makes me cringe and, as the Genie in Aladdin once said, "I feel sheepish." But I hope it will spark just the conversation we need to have.

Waste time much?

Sometimes during the weekend, I'll think of all these brilliant things I want to blog about, but when I get to the computer on Monday morning, every idea has vanished from my brain. Lately the only things on my mind have been soooo mundane: What are we going to have for dinner this week, how did AJ get that scratch on his cheek, did I write the check to daycare, when will I ever have time to clean out that flower pot and plant something new in it, will this dog ever stop shedding... nothing too earth-shattering. You may have noticed, if you read with any regularity!

And so, to celebrate the season of Not Much Going On, here is a lovely little meme for you.

"Getting to Know You"
1. What is your occupation? Web producer and content writer
2. What are you listening to right now? My own typing skills and the hum of a flourescent light
3. What are you wearing right now? Red floral tank top, red capri pants
4. What was the last thing you ate? Wheat bagel with light cream cheese and peach salsa, yum.
5. Do you wish on stars? YES
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? I can't decide. RED, or Spring Green
7. How is the weather right now? Haven't been out yet but I bet it's hot and humid
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Probably my husband
9. Where would you go right now, if you could go anywhere? Bed.
10. How old are you today? 31
11. Favorite drink? Coca-Cola classic over ice
12. What is your favorite sport? Um, reading? I guess baseball, in terms of general sports. I also like the girly ones like gymnastics.
13. Have you ever dyed your hair? Highlighted, yes
14. Do you wear contacts? Nope
15. Pets? Napoleon, lab-chow mix
16. Favorite month? December
17. Favorite food? Pizza or Mexican (how many times have I answered that question the exact same way??)
18. What was the last movie you watched? "Must Love Dogs"
19. Favorite day of the year? Christmas Day
20. What do you do to vent anger? Whine aloud to whomever is standing closest. Write in blog. Call sister.
21 What was your favorite toy as a child? It depends on the year... Fashion Plates ranked pretty high up...my diary wasn't really a toy but I spent a lot of time with it... I guess dolls, in general. Ooh, and my chalkboard! Won it in a "toy walk" at the city "Jubiliee" one year and adored that thing! Subjected my sister to MANY games of "School" where I was the teacher (and thus, the only one who got to use the chalkboard)!
22. Fall or Spring? Fall
23. Hugs or kisses? Hugs
24. Cherry or Blueberry? Cherry
25. Living arrangements? House (3br/2ba) in a subdivision in a suburb
26. When was the last time you cried? Last time I had PMS! No wait, yesterday, watching AJ play (he was so cute and it just got to me, all of a sudden. And maybe there was some sappy commercial on at the same time...*embarrassed shrug*)
27. What is on the floor of your closet? Shoes, a couple of baseball caps, shoe boxes
28. Who is the friend you have had the longest? My sister
29. What did you do last night? Made dinner, played with AJ, cleaned up the kitchen, read a magazine, watched Anthony Bourdain's new show
30. Favorite smell? just-bathed AJ
31. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
32. How many states have you lived in? 3 = TX, FL, GA
33. How many cities have you lived in? Are we counting suburbs? Then, 6. Hereford Tx, Pensacola, Atlanta, Decatur, Marietta, and Paris ("lived" there for 6 weeks)
34. How did you meet your mate? At work
35. What person has inspired you the most in your life? Such a hard question. I guess, at one time, my friend Jenny inspired me a whole lot. She was very vibrant, a couple of years older than me, and I adored her. She helped me "find" my personality, I think (this was when I was a teen). Or if not that, she brought out a side of my personality that wasn't known to me -- my silly, extroverted, make-a-fool-of-myself and do-unexpected-things side. We had the best times together, doing anything from reading poetry to tap-dancing to having rainy-afternoon picnics to just driving around, or giggling like crazy while we brushed our teeth. Ah, to be young! We lost touch after college and since then, have communicated sporadically, but our lives aren't very similar anymore. She stayed in theater and played the lead roles and the quirky ones, and I moved more inside myself, started singing choral music and thus becoming more "unseen," as a blended voice rather than a stand-out. Funny how our hobbies mirrored our personalities a bit. Last time we were together we were clearly on two different planes. But I treasure what she meant to me, and how we inspired each other.

Hey, feel free to play along if you've read all the way to the end (and if you're bored like I was)!

[Evil laugh...] Grocery Success!

Ha, ha, ha, Child: I am sneaky and your vegetables are coming!

On the Side

Headline homage to The Amateur Gourmet
...but having nothing to do with food...

We got an estimate from the siding guy. Only $5900 to re-side the front and stage-right side of our house, in vinyl. We currently have a "composite" wood siding, which Siding Guy told us was not much more than compressed sawdust. You can read all about the many class action lawsuits against this kind of siding. Sadly, the statue of limitations has long since passed so we won't be getting any money for it. Which I'm sorta glad about -- the hassle of figuring THAT out would've driven me out of my gourd. Anyhoo, won't it be fun to spend six thousand bucks on vinyl siding?! Once this year, and again next year for the back and stage-left? I can hardly wait.

I went to see a movie on Friday night with a girlfriend. We had a good time and the movie "Must Love Dogs," was exceptionally girly. Not particularly good, but watchable. I adore Diane Lane. And who doesn't adore John Cusak? After "Say Anything," he can do no wrong in my eyes, and if anyone from my generation disagrees, I'd be interested to know about it. I can't imagine. He'll forever be stamped "Romantic Ideal" if you ask me. Which is why, I suppose, he chose to do this sickeningly romantic "post-divorce love story." Even as he gets older, (and fatter), his character's still got that charm and sensibility. Perhaps the same character every time, naysayers might cry? Probably, but this does not matter. Predictable? Yes. He gets the girl in the end? Yes. He blathers on "philosophically" in run-on sentences about kickboxing? No, he blathers about rowing in this one. But we don't care! We love ya anyway, Johnny C. The outing was just what I needed. The ice cream, I did not need. But it was tasty!

A veggie tale

Or, My Kid Eats Meat.

My darling child, no matter what I do, will not eat a vegetable unless it is a green bean. I have exhausted myself to try to figure out how to serve other vessels of vitamins and minerals so that he will think, "Delicious! Give me more!!" So far, it hasn't happened. Ketchup doesn't help. Cheese doesn't help. Butter and brown sugar (on carrots) doesn't help. Zesty Italian dressing, no (come on! It's Zesty!!). Ranch dressing, no. Disguising vegetables in vanilla yogurt, no (although it did work, back when he was too young to know better). I've tried broccoli, carrots, peas, Veg*All, creamed corn (yummy!), avacado, asparagus, zucchini, cucumber... all the baby-friendly veggies I can think of. I haven't tried spinach yet but he wouldn't even eat that out of the baby food jar. I fear no good would come of it.

I am about to have a cow. So to speak. (But dangit, he'll EAT cow.)

It's soooo frustrating to KNOW that toddlers can take a while to warm up to a food, and therefore, you have to try it many zillions of times before they might eat it. So instead, I keep trying NEW ones, all the while continuing to try the same old ones, and nothing works. I've been reading about how to disguise veggies in chili, spaghetti sauce, etc... but I want him to love vegetables for the pure love of them! I mean, who can resist a cool cucumber on a summer afternoon? The crrrrunch! of a bell pepper? The wascally wabbit's favorite carrot?? Perhaps, I'll admit, he's a bit young for that kind of gourmet sensibility, but I mean -- butter and brown sugar? How does one not love that?!

Of course he's also very adept at dropping vegetables onto the floor for the dog. He can even announce that he's about to do it, with his adorable, almost inaudible "Uh-ohhh." Deliver me from the constant cuteness!

Green beans it is, I guess, until I can figure this out. He is absolutely going to turn in to a green bean. Or... I've heard there is such a thing as a "Veggie Stick." In the frozen foods aisle. Not too sure how "real" that kind of veggie is, but it may serve us well until he's oh, fifteen, and can appreciate a good raw biome.

Why it's great to be a Mommy:

Because, when you forget that you have an 8:00 am dentist appointment and make your coffee in the programmable coffee pot the night before, but you can't drink it in the morning before the appointment (natch, and ewww), you can keep it warm in the car while you drive to the dentist's office using your Handy Bottle Warming Device! (And even though your baby has totally outgrown needing his bottle warmed, you're too tired and forgetful and busy (being a Mommy) to have removed that device months ago -- it's still conveniently packed in the backseat pocket.) :)

It came! It came!

My latest amazon purchase arrived today! Containing this:

Awesome Children's CD No. 1

and this:

Awesome Children's CD No. 2

I am like a kid at Christmas hopping around and dancing in my living room. :)

AJ seems to like kinda like 'em, too.

Aww, man

One of my favorite pals is quitting her blog. I am bummed about this because it's a good blog. It was the reason I decided I wanted one. She's a talented writer and I will miss learning from her way with words. She always seems to pinpoint the exact thoughts in her head with the perfect phrase, and it's never pithy or cliche.

She has her reasons, and they're valid. The powerful, friendly Internet has a sinister side, too, whereby friends (or enemies) interpret the written word in a manner most unlike what the writer intended. This happened recently in a string of emails from my parish's former choir director to the new choir director. If you can believe this, name-calling was exchanged between them, and of course those who were CC'd had to jump in to defend, or to add their rude commentary, too. It was all based on somebody's memo-gone-awry. So feelings were hurt, (immaturities proven), and a whole bunch of unbecoming DRAMA ensued. It blew over (after a priest who was CC'd chimed in with quite a reprimand), but it's an illustration of what can happen when our lives, and our dashed-off notes, are chronicled, passed around, filed away, and read and re-read. There's a term I've learned that also applies -- "assvice." I love when people preface their blog comments with "I have this assvice to give:" As if they know they're providing something without being asked, and that they will be seen as jerks for doing so. But... sometimes people don't preface. Anyway, I'm sorry for my friend. She seems sad to bid goodbye to a whole part of herself. But sometimes you just have to make a clean break and forget it.

Welcome, the Idiot Box

I am guilty: I watched the Teletubbies yesterday with AJ. He is finally starting to notice the television, much to my dismay, but I know that's a developmental milestone, too, so I guess it's good as long as we keep it on PBS or Disney, and not on the video game channel. At first I thought, "Whoa, maybe all the research is right, and kids really do like these (wacked-out, drug-induced) Teletubbie guys," because AJ was mezmerized by their weird little talking and the Baby-Head sunshine thing. He even danced once or twice with the music, and smiled and pointed. But every once in a while, he was obviously weirded out (as was I), because he'd let out a little whimper and screw up his face just the tiniest bit. So I think they're weird. I may not watch them again.

I will, however, let him watch Sesame Street, which he seems to be enjoying more and more, and buy him the Cookie Monster CD that DH and I have been craving for months now (we LOVE "If me knew you were coming, me'd have baked a cake." Now that is Classic Cookie). I will also let him watch "Clifford the Big Red Dog," because it is so funny to watch him "barking" at all the other dogs on that show. He stood there yesterday and went, "AAh.... Aah.... Aah.... Aah!" in rapid-fire succession. Which is cute because he doesn't ever "bark" at Napoleon, he just pants. But these dogs apparently needed a Talking To.

In the details.

This is long and has Bible quotes. You've been warned.

I have had a very big lack of faith-practice lately. And I don't just mean not going to church, although that has been a problem in and of itself since I was in college. I just don't really go unless a) I'm at home with my parents, or b) I'm bound by a choir gig. The Catholic "Sunday Obligation" isn't enough for me, I guess; I need a calendar-specific reason. So, I've been on the schedule as a cantor the last 2 weekends, but before that (and not including my sister's wedding Mass), I have just slacked about church this summer. It doesn't help that AJ is in a very squirmy stage and I'm using it as an excuse, nor that DH, for all his good intentions, doesn't really like the process of getting all dressed up and going to church -- he feels like it's interrupting his only relax-time on the weekend, i.e., he gets all dressed up 5 days a week for work. And I respect that. He works hard. It's okay to want 2 days off. So ANYWAY, this post isn't really supposed to be about that. (And here's where I have to throw in an apology to my Mom because I don't know that I've ever admitted outright to her that I don't attend church every week. Surely she knows that, though. Right? Shirley. Sorry, Mom.)

What this post is about is the very wide absence of any spiritual awareness in my life lately. I mean, usually I can see around me all the good things that are of God -- the breeze that cools me, the good fact that I have a job, even when I'm feeling down about it, the real love that I feel for Husband and AJ, and that LOVE = GOD, and there you go. Usually, I spend more time thinking on those things. Lately? Nothing. I'm wandering around without a compass, I guess. I don't read the Bible (cradle Catholic, I told you), I don't do daily devotionals, I don't even read Beliefnet anymore. I think part of it is that I'm just totally distracted by this child-raising thing. I mean, you parents know it is a CONSTANT activity -- one never gets a chance to NOT think about the child. To ignore him for a while. I know, I know, take time for yourself and blah blah blah... but it never really includes reflective time. If I do that, I want to read a book or get a massage or do some shopping. Or, you know, if I was feeling motivated, I'd workout. (HA.) Don't misunderstand, I am keenly aware, every time I look at AJ, that he is an extremely precious gift from God and my part in helping to create him is nothing short of a miracle. The fact that God would trust me with such a responsibility is pretty mind-blowing.... but my mind stays pretty much blown with "What am I going to feed the kid for dinner THIS time (turkey dogs and green beans, again)?"

So it struck me on Sunday, when I was sitting at church in the cantor's seat, trying NOT to listen to the reading -- trying, instead, to practice the next song in my head -- that all of a sudden God was finding a way to poke at me and say, "HEY! Listen up, you. Pay attention." He is very good at this, in my experience. It's all in the littlest things -- God is in the details, as they say. First reading: 1 Kings 19: (excerpt)
Elijah came to a cave where he took shelter.
Then the LORD said to him,
"Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD;
the LORD will be passing by."
...but the LORD was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake--
but the LORD was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake there was fire--
but the LORD was not in the fire.
After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound.

Ahem. [God's booming voice, whispering:] "I am here. But I whisper. You have to work a bit harder to hear Me."

Second reading, which called me right out: Romans 9:1-5: ...my conscience joins with the Holy Spirit in bearing me witness that I have great sorrow and constant anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh.

[me looking around] Who, me?? This is precisely it. I am kinda sorrowful and anguished lately, faith-wise. And obviously cutting myself off from Christ. (Or, at least from the Church, which is sometimes of Christ and sometimes... well, that's a whole other topic.) Hmph. Alright, what about the Gospel reading? Surely three in a row won't be so dang personal. And then...

[as God chuckled:] Matthew 14:
Meanwhile the boat, already a few miles offshore,
was being tossed about by the waves, for the wind was against it.
During the fourth watch of the night,
he came toward them walking on the sea...
Peter said to him..."Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water."
He said, "Come." Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus.
But when he saw how strong the wind was he became frightened;
and, beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!"
Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter,
and said to him, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?"

Ummm. Okay, wow. By this time I had hastily pulled out my hymnal to make sure they were reading the right ones for this week. "Ye of little faith." So you see? It's in the details and perhaps if I turn my mind toward them and pay better attention, I can get my spirit back.

There were other things, I think, the rest of that day. I can't remember them all now, but things like when I went into church, it was raining and gray, and so was my mood (childish bad attitude about having to be at church when I didn't wanna)... but when we came out, after all that revelation during the readings, hmm, surprise, the sun was shining again. And see? I think of that as significant. Or, at least, illustrative. Another way of God trying to say "You see what I can do? I can turn things back around if you'll just NOTICE."

So. I'm trying to be better about keeping my eyes open. Oh yeah, and my heart. I'm still not 100% there yet. But that's another thing I realized... that I think it's OKAY. This is the way the path has turned for the moment, and I'm still walking. And it may be this way for some time to come. Maybe I'm only going to get small inklings of God right now. He gives us what we can handle.

Visit from the 'rents

My parents are coming to visit this weekend. Yay! I love when they call and say "Hey, ummm.... can we come visit?" My Dad always adds, "I'm pretty sure AJ needs to see me." I love that. He is so stuck on this kid. First grandson, and all. I told him that AJ was playing outside a lot lately, and I think that's what did it. He just saw him 3 weeks ago but he can't stand it much longer than that. So cute. I am sure those 2 will wear their baseball caps this weekend! And, bonus... I now have a babysitter for Saturday! You know what that means. DATE NIGHT!

Boo-boo report

How cute is it that Daycare provides a Boo-Boo Report?? Since we're in the Big Kids' Room now, walking and talking and climbing and all, we of course have this danger. I love it. The teacher wrote, "We applied ice and gave AJ lots of love and he didn't even cry, but a small bruise might appear." He is becoming quite the little boy, with scrapes on his knees from toddling along the driveway, mosquito bites on his face because when he's outside, he's much too busy to bother shooing the bugs away, and now this lovely bruise/scratch in the middle of his forehead. It's very Harry Potter, actually. He was fighting off He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, I guess. The best part is his 1-year portrait is supposed to be taken tomorrow. Lovely. Guess we'll be calling the studio today to reschedule! If I'm paying good money, I want him to be Porcelain.

The other night, he was taking his bath. Bathtime at our household is mostly an exercise in distraction. AJ does not like, nor has he ever liked, water in his face. He gets very upset. We're still hopeful that one day he'll figure out that it's fun -- and we're getting a few signs of that, like when he "tastes" the water now, smacking his lips, instead of screaming his head off. But as a rule, bathtime is not our favorite time. We get in, we get clean, we play as much as we can stand, and we're done. So this last bath, we were playing the body parts game. He knows his tongue, eyes, hair, feet, and is about to figure out his nose. We were trying out new parts... where's your belly button? Arm? Chin? Knees... when Daddy got the bright idea to ask, "AJ, where's your pee-pee?" (Leave it to a man to be sure and remember the MOST IMPORTANT body part of all.) Honestly, it was as if he looked back at us and said, "This thing has a NAME?" Of course, it is a pretty obvious part, easy-to-access and all. Well, ACCESS IT, he did, and then couldn't STOP accessing it. "HOW CURIOUS!" he must have been thinking to himself. Daddy and Mommy had the conversation about, "Should we call it by its actual name? ...Nah, "p*nis" just sounds too strange to say aloud all the time, right? Right. Pee-pee is an easier word for kids to grasp (so to speak)... etc..." while AJ continued "learning" it. He even looked up and sounded it out, grinning at us: "Puh-puh." As I said, the Art of Distraction comes in handy during the bath. We finally succeeded. Finally. "Hey, look, AJ, your BOAT! There's Captain Eddie! WOW, isn't that fun!?" And, "peek-a-boo! Hey! Look over here...PEEK-A-BOOOO!!" But it was no easy feat. "FEET! AJ, where are your FEET?!"

A wet riot, I tell you. Mommy had tears in her eyes from laughing, and Daddy just grinned and shook his head, guilty of starting this, and unable to verbalize the concept, this father-son thing, this brotherhood of man.

Amazing what a little B6 can do*

Today is a very good day. AJ and I are at home, and I'm working, although there isn't a whole lotta work to do -- the client phone call I needed to make this morning has been made, and I keep checking email but there's nothing significant. Therefore, much to my delight, I was able to clean the crusted green beans and oatmeal out from the tiny cracks and crevices of our highchair, and put the cushion through a looong wash cycle. I hope to be able to start the casserole I'm making for Book Club tomorrow night, and maybe even run the vacuum over the living room. Wouldn't that be nice?

We found, while cleaning the highchair, the Duck that's been missing for more than a week. Hooray! We wer sure it had gone out with the trash, as that's AJ's favorite activity of late -- putting things IN. Wish he'd find a different receptacle, but hey, he's learning, right?

And on an unrelated note, I have become determined to find a good park around here -- one with swingsets and things for AJ to climb on. He just LOVES being outside. On Saturday, we took him out for a while in our yard, and brought his plastic baseball bat and Daddy's glove. Got some cute pictures of that scene -- Daddy showing him how to hold the glove, him putting the ball in it. I wish we could do that every day, all of us together! It was a moment that will last in my heart, so precious and so fleeting (mostly due to the heat and the mosquitos -- we had to make a hasty retreat when it got unbearable). It's wet out today so the "park" project might be for another time. But I'm still smiling at the thought of future baseball games in the grass, and AJ learning to throw and catch and run.

*Vitamin B6, one of my best friends. Good for what ails ya. And for what makes you cry inexplicably (yesterday).

All grown up (me)

Just attended the latest 401k seminar at work. Ugh. Overall, things like that make me hate being a grown up. But at the moment -- truly just 5 minutes after the workshop has ended -- I'm a little bit motivated. What I want to do is take a day (or a week?!) off to focus on nothing but FINANCES. Husband and I have been wanting to sit down and "do a budget" for ages. We need to do that, plus all this retirement planning (we already save regularly, but not very attentively), plus college planning for AJ, plus just regular old savings plans. Like I said, we already do all of these, but I would feel better about it if I could FOCUS on it, and nothing else, for at least a day. I'm thinking it would really require more time than that.

Yuck. You can ask my Dad, I HATE talking finances. He usually catches my wrath when he brings stuff like this up. But while I'm somewhat inspired, I'd better take advantage.

(Attention coworkers, this is a good seminar... you'd be wise to go.)

My CIO post

This post is sort-of about Crying It Out. You're right -- I'm so five minutes ago. Blog history was made on this subject a full month ago, but here, it's the current event of the day. Not because I'm debating whether or not to try it. I'm all for it. (Here come the tomatoes.)

Starting at about 8 months, I got serious about putting AJ to sleep with a very specific routine. And it goes like this: (We usually change into jammies before time to go to bed, so assuming that's done)
1.Take Blankie and AJ up to his room, brush "teeth."
2. Sit in the rocking chair together and read 1 or 2 stories.
3.Sing a lullaby.
4.Say, "AJ, Mommy and Daddy love you.... I'm going to put you in your bed now. Sleep well. Have sweet dreams. We'll see you in the morning. Night Night."

Now that is one heckuva routine, right? I'm proud. Even though I've caved more often than I should, singing him to sleep instead of putting him down while he's still awake. But I BELIEVE in Crying It Out, and I wait for the day when he has learned, as all the theorizers and baby philosophers promised, how to soothe himself to sleep.

Except. That it hasn't happened yet. Or, at least I'm not sure if it has. Usually if I put him down awake, he pushes back up to his knees, mad that I'm leaving him. "Wha-- MOM! But we were having such a nice lullaby! Why would you leave NOW? WAAA." That goes on as I shoo the dog out of the room and close the door, and usually continues for about 2-5 minutes more. We listen intently on the monitor. All vocal noise ceases. He shuffles around -- I imagine him readjusting his teddy, Blankie, PJs, and the sheets, and flopping his head back and forth a few times just like his Mommy does -- and then, Wonderful Sleep.

So I ask you, dear smart people: Is he satisfactorily soothed? Or is he just giving up? I know of kids who go into their cribs quietly, lay themselves down, and tip-toe off to Dreamland. As if they're saying, "Wow, thanks, Mommy, I am pretty tired, and this bed feels so nice and cool and welcoming. Good night." That is what I would consider to be "self-soothed." Is what I'm getting a different version of that, or is my routine not working?

The thing is, bedtime works for us -- and when he stops crying, he's done. He sleeps -- well -- for 10 hours or more every night, and has, since about 6 months old. I guess I'm just curious.

I... have very little to share

I had weird dreams last night. Not bad dreams, just weird. I remember right before waking up, I was giving Hubby a $5 bill. Shortly after I did wake up, he asked me if I had any money. And I gave him TWO $5 bills. So the moral is, I need to start dreaming about winning the million-dollar lottery.

...

AJ had one of his best nights ever. GOD BLESS DAYCARE for putting him down to nap in the LATE afternoon! When we pick him up and he hasn't napped since 12:30 (may I add: What the...? No afternoon nap? Are they crazy?), he is a Holy Terror. Won't sit still in his high chair at dinner, whines to be held for 3 hours straight, cries during his bath. Argh. But last night, he was the Picture of Adorable. He loved the spaghetti I gave him for dinner, as well as the strawberries for dessert. Mmmm. He had his dessert while we had our dinner, which was almost like the Family Dinner Gold Standard which I dream of one day attaining. (This goal also includes getting DH to TURN OFF G4TV and converse with us during the meal! Um, hello?! We're over here, honey.) He later played with his Daddy's shoes, much to the delight of his parents, who thought watching him drag them around by the laces was the Height of Entertainment. (Even better than G4.) His little head got very warm with all the high-energy playing he did before bed. And then, he fell asleep with nary a whimper. HOOray! A happy family evening, all hazy with the warm glow of our simple bliss... and I managed to kick out a complete, balanced meal, to boot. (Ooh, punny!)

...

I luurrvh Comcast DVR. Or TiVo, whatever you want to call it. I love it because last night, Bravo decided to play the Blow Out Reunion show at ELEVEN P.M.! Why would they do this to me? Don't they know that I am worthless after 9:00? Especially after filling my tummy with angel-hair and meat sauce and garlic bread. Ooof. AS-LEEP. Eyes not opening. So anyway, no biggie, we "taped" it. Does anyone else say that? We can't stop ourselves, even though there is obviously no tape involved. Linguistic error. "DVR'd it" doesn't roll off the tongue, but we don't have TiVo, we have Comcast DVR. I'm guessing "TiVo'd" is slated to become the next "Xerox" or the next "Google." Proprietary Eponyms, they're called. I just learned that by googling.

...

(Edited 9:29am) One other thing I have on my mind. I think it is time to cut AJ's darling baby hair. He's getting dangerously close to mullet-dom, rat-tail-hood, whatever you want to call it. :) His bangs -- well, one bang, really -- reach down to his nose and I'm contantly brushing it back. It's precious as ever and I can't bear the thought of turning him into A Big Boy with four or five little round-scissor-snips! But it must be done. The question -- do I do it myself, or take him to a professional?

Settling

We're getting all settled into our new digs. I'm feeling very smug that several of the traditional office naysayers -- people who've had bad attitudes all along about our move -- have said, out loud, "You know, this really isn't that bad." I want to do that dance Grace always does for Will, "Told Ya So, Told Ya So -- TOLD YA, Told Ya, Told Ya So!" And stick my tongue out.

But I'm glad that we're here. And that my computer's connected and my files put away. It's gonna be fine. I mean, what can possibly be so bad? There's a TARGET across the street, for pete's sake!

Happy weekends, everyone.

Feeling verbose today, post #3

Okay, is it extraordinarily sad that I am SO SUPER EXCITED about lunch at a Mexican restaurant today? My coworker and I, seriously*, could eat Pizza and Mexican Every. Single. Day. She is my taste-bud-twin. (Except I think she doesn't like beer. Me, I like me a good microbrew once in a while.) We are going together today to indulge in chips and salsa, and perhaps a Lunch #1: Speedy Gonzales.

Wondering...if we did have get to eat P or M every day, would she be content to eat any kind of pizza, as would I? Meaning, frozen pizza counts - Domino's counts - Hot Pockets counts - even Geno's Pizza Rolls would count, on occassion.

Must stop talking. Starting to sound crazy.



*I guess this would be the appropriate place to say "serious as a heart attack," because that is what we will have someday. And this, after Krissy's inspiring post about cholesterol issues and addiction. Oops. Oh well. I lied, Krissy, it IS the Food! I'm addicted, too. Can I blame you for getting me thinking about it? Thanks.

AJ is to smart as Jeff is to sensational

My little man is SMART. His teacher SAID SO at daycare this morning, and as many kids as she's seen, she would know. She was showing him "where are your ears?" yesterday, and he remembered! He showed us his ear today! After all that time overnight, he didn't forget.... See? I told you. Valedictorian. :)

**head swelling with Mom-pride**

I can't imagine how much joy a kid can bring a parent through their successes, but I guess this is a little bitty taste of that. I thought about it last night, while watching the Atlanta Braves game. I used to be a huge fan.... fell into complacency as they just kept winning every single year and it got boring.... quit going to games because they are (too expensive and) miserable in the HEAT..... quit watching altogether..... and then, this year, our FRIEND's BROTHER is basically making himself a Rookie of the Year candidate. It has been so fun to watch him -- he's led the team back to its #1 standing in the NLEast, and has rocked the house every game. Yay! I wish I actually knew him, but I don't -- I know his sister. But I do know that he comes from a wonderful family, and they are so proud of him. It's cute because TBS always finds his parents in the stands, and I just love watching his mom be his #1 cheerleader. It must make her crazy with happiness to watch him do so well. I was trying to imagine that level of amazement as I watched her last night -- I think I would wonder, "This kid came from Little Ol' Me, and look what he can do! How did he learn how to do this?" I just love it for them.

Of course, even if your child is NOT a major league sensation at age 21, any teeny success makes a parent proud. I once asked my Mom, when I was about fifteen, "Mom, what if I am not overly successful in my life? What if I wanted to be, say, a fisherman?" (I meant, a fisherman on the pier in Pensacola, not a commercial or competitive one.) "If I was happy, would you still be proud of me?" She looked sideways at me and said, "Well, honey... um, if you wanted to be a happy fisherman, I guess I would be happy for you...." It became quite the family joke, but I bet she meant it, deep down -- if your kids are happy, and doing something that they love, you're happy. You're proud. You've done well. (Of course, my Mom was thrilled that I decided against the fishing career.)

No comment

I have received no comments on the last several of what I think are sort-of interesting, if not nicely written posts. I am aware that the content of said posts is not that much different from Anymom-blogger@anywhere.com, and I am most decidedly aware that the writing is not as spectacular as some that I read. And, MAN! Some of the stuff I read... is nothing short of amazing. The universe didn't know it had such a plethora of intelligent authors until the advent of blogdom. What a treasure trove! Some of you make me laugh, and cry, and hug at my sides with the laughter! Or the crying. I'm not even fishing for compliments here (she says as she launches her line), but I realize I am not One of Those Writers.

I would also like to have a great blog title. Some of the cleverest, IMHO, are:
But I Digress
Idbit (<--get it?? ID-bit?? So clever.)
A Tale of Two Kiddies (for which I cannot find a link)
Does This Mean I'm a Grown-Up?
Welcome to Patootieville (<--that one just cracks me up)
The tagline from "Dance...": Excuse me while I figure out my life. Lalalala I'm not listening...
Von Krankipantzen, a word which, for some reason, I cannot get out of my head

...and by far my favorite of all,
insert witty title here.

Those are so great. Although, as I was searching for all of those well-titled pages, I decided that "Hello, Self," does pretty accurately describe what I'm doing here, which is absolutely talking to myself. I've done it for years -- it's me. It's all about me. SELF SELF SELF.

But dangit, Internet, once you've given me one comment, I'd prefer a thousand. It isn't that I need your approval or advice, but we all thrive on positive reinforcement, after all. My ego likes to be stroked just as much as the next guy's. I am trying to remind myself, "Now, Self, remember when you started this blog, you promised to not get all hyped up about the 'audience.' This is just for YOU, remember? Write it for YOU." This is just an online version of the fabric-backed journals I've been keeping for years -- minus the crayon drawings and magazine clippings and poetry that I used to paste into those old books, as my 9th-grade English & religion teacher taught me to do. (Wow, hadn't thought about it, but I kinda miss having those things in a journal.)

So.... Who cares who comments. Right? Go on about your business, gentle readers, and don't worry because I really don't need you. Really. I don't... no, I insist...

:)

Future valedictory speech

Forgot to mention the other things/words AJ has learned. He is uber-smart, as you all know.

"hah, hah, hah" panting...... (sign for) DOG
"ah-ah" (then makes an "o" w/his lips) ....UH-OH
"bah-bah"...... BOTTLE or BYE-BYE if waving
"boooo" .......BOO, as in, Peek-A. Just learned that one last night!
"no-no" .......he'll imitate us if we say this to him
"ni-ni" .......he seems to be imitating NIGHT-NIGHT
can show us his tongue when we say "Where's your tongue?"
can hold our hands when asked to do so (when walking)
can pat-pat-pat the dog
can make his "yucky" face, just to be funny
puts to his ear anything rectangular and pretends it's a phone
has signs for "ALL FINISHED"/"NO MORE." His version of the "no more" sign isn't what's in the book [crossing his hands back and forth, palms down, in that "no thanks" motion that adults do], but it's close -- he points to his wrist. Kinda odd. Okay, it isn't close. But it's cute and I am starting to recognize it.

All this to say he's definitely understanding speech, which still blows me away. For months I've been able to say to him, "AJ, go get that green ball," and he can go get it. But now he's recognizing when we say, "Are you hungry? Want some Cheerios?" and "AJ, let's go outside with Polie," and "Come with me," and "Put it in your mouth." How does the brain learn to process and understand such things when it can't spit them back out? It's amazing to watch. It's like a huge language explosion right now. I know this is normal but to the Mommy it's always extraordinary. :)

Tripping

During our weekend trip to Seattle, AJ learned many wonderful things.

1. How to say "More." While he was eating breakfast one morning at our hotel, he decided he really needed another bite of watermelon. Instead of using his signs, or simply reaching for it, he reached for it and also SAID, "Moooooooooooooow." Which comes out a little like a cow sound on paper, but in real life is very obviously the word "More." Is that cool or what?! My baby boy is absolutely talking!
2. How to drive his parents to the brink of insanity, but only because THEY switched the time zones on him. How that little one suffered! His once-perfect internal clock all discombobulated! How WE suffered! Because it IS all about me, after all. He woke us up at 2:30 or 3:30 am each night we were there. Ouch. Of course, we exacerbated the problem by keeping him awake until 10:00 pm in the evenings (1:00 am his time) while we partied as wedding attendees must. What a trooper. He actually did very well, considering. We had a great time, even if we did go a little insane.
3. How to survive on nothing but animal crackers, Cheerios and milk for 3 days. Not a green bean in sight. Nary a bite of chicken. I'm somewhat kidding; we did manage good breakfasts, thank goodness. And he really enjoyed the Late Harvest Riesling sorbet served at my Sis's wedding reception, however. Sophisticated palate, you know.
4. How to charm the pants off everyone in a room. Just by being himself. That skill is going to come in handy one day.

Husband and I learned how gorgeous a city can be. While we've both stayed in Atlanta because we've loved it, visiting such a clean, free-thinking, visually appealing place made us question our current choice of locale. We both know we're tied here, for now, but it was fun to keep saying, "We seriously ought to move here," and imagine what it'd be like.

It was a great trip. The wedding was spectacular. My Sis and her Now Husband planned every last detail, but managed to keep their cool and not worry which details didn't come together until the last possible moment. The ceremony was lovely, the reception divine, the friends and family who gathered were all happy and I, for one, loved being there, being together. I got to wear my hair in an up-do, and, well... there just isn't anything much more fun than that now, is there?

Personal Ida

I'm feelin' all y'all ... (like that?) ... who have moved recently, or are moving now, or soon. My office is also preparing to relocate. Today is Clean Up and Pack Up Day, meaning: We're wearing shorts!! (I always wonder what in the heck these moms DO, that they get to wear shorts and tennies when they drop their kids off at the daycare. Today I was one of them, though. Maybe everyone is moving.) And we had a free pizza lunch woo hoo!! And we are dirty and lugging heavy things about.

Moving always makes me think of when my family "up and moved" from Texas to Florida. And that's exactly how we did it, too -- "up and moved." It was like, all of a sudden, hey, we're leaving this stinkhole and moving, so ha, ha, all you people who are still stuck here..... Okay, it wasn't quite like that, but it was pretty sudden, as evidenced by our then Aunt Lovely, who refused to ever speak to us again because she thought we'd kept her "in the dark" about our plans, on purpose. Or some such baloney. Suffice it to say, it surprised everyone, most of all, us. We were Established in Cow Town, Texas. We were Country Club Members. Dad was on the Bank Board (of what, I don't know -- Trustees?). Our name had meaning behind it. Our grandparents helped build that town. And here we were going to pack all that up and transport it to the big city? Unbelievable to many of our friends and relations.

It didn't transport -- the reputation, I mean. We became little fish in the big ocean, if you consider Pensacola big. Which we did. But the enormous plusses of Pensacola definitely outweighed the minus of our "status" in Cow Town. Someday I will tell you about my charmed childhood, though. For all its cow-relativity, the original hometown was a pretty great place to grow up. It was all sunshine and high cotton. :)

What did transport was our STUFF, and lots of it. As a homeowner myself, I now understand how easy it is to accumulate So Much Crap You Think It's Going to Take Over and Eat You For Lunch, and we've only been in our house 3 years! We lived in our 4BR/3.5BA house in Tejas, with a large basement, for about 10 years. So you do the math. Those Mayflower guys had plenty to do to get us out of there! When they arrived 6 weeks later at our brand-new house in Florida, we unloaded. And we kept finding these boxes labeled "Chester Drawer." What the...? Who is Chester? "Ohhhhh, we finally figured out: Chest of Drawers. This box of stuff must have come from the dresser. (I think that, in the South, we don't have "chests of drawers." Nor "bureaus" -- although I think I knew that term from reading Nancy Drew. Seems like she must have found a clue or two in an old, New England-y bureau. But mine, and my mom's and sister's, were dressers.)

More puzzling than Chester, however, was Ida. Boxes upon boxes were delivered into the new house, labeled Glass Ida. Guest Room Ida. Blue Room Ida. Backyard Ida. She was omnipresent. This Ida had claimed everything as her own! Who WAS she and what did she want with our stuff?

Seriously, it took us about a day to decipher the code. Maybe you've already figured it out. Like the sunlight returning from behind a cloud, we finally got it: Items. Glass items. Guest room items. They were abbreviating! We have laughed about that phonetic mistake ever since.

So today I'm channeling Ida and labeling my personal boxes. Hope none of my Ida. get broken. :) Ah, memories.

90 degrees in the shade

It is HOT. Wait, let me rephrase: it is Super-Hot. Steamy. Sticky. Beyond Muggy. Little AJ and I had Recess today. It was only intended to last about 10 minutes, because I knew it was hot out there, and I think we got to 8 and three-quarters before I scooped him up and took him inside. The stifling weather plus his new big-boy sneakers and socks made for one sweaty little boy! He was too cute, trying to walk in the new shoes, on the uneven surface of the grass. He insisted on carrying the dog's ball-thrower thingy -- you've seen this, right? It's my best friend because it means I don't have to touch the wet, nasty tennis ball between fetches, ew! -- but it was a little bit awkward for a person who stands 2.01 feet in stature. He kept falling down. I hope the know-it-all neighbor wasn't watching out her window. She's constantly saying "Well, pretty SOON, AJ will be able to keep up with Kelsey," (who's 18 months old). As if he isn't GOOD ENOUGH at walking yet to play with her much advanced toddler girl. Whatever. He WALKS, I tell you. He was just a little wobbly on his new wheels this afternoon.

Plus, that heat must have been making him a little goofy. It definitely fried my brain! Whew! Hot!

Craving the simple life

Geez, I hope I don't sound like a chronic whiner. "Whaaa, we have so much to DO. Whaaaa, we have to go on a PLAAAYNE. Whaaa, our house is falling apart." Sorry. Got to remember we have a good life.

Snaps to So The Fish Said for reminding me of that in her July 12 post -- "Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough." And for reminding me how great Garrison Keillor, coin-er of that phrase, is. I SO need to listen to Prairie Home Companion on NPR. Husband doesn't get things like that -- therefore, I try not to subject him -- but I love it. Here are some more gems from the genius himself:

"Librarians, Dusty, possess a vast store of politeness. These are people who get asked regularly the dumbest questions on God's green earth. These people tolerate every kind of crank and eccentric and mouth-breather there is."

"I want to resume the life of a shy person."

"A minister has to be able to read a clock. At noon, it's time to go home and turn up the pot roast and get the peas out of the freezer."

"Beauty isn't worth thinking about; what's important is your mind. You don't want a fifty-dollar haircut on a fifty-cent head."

...and this inspired wisdom, which really spoke to me this morning:

"People will miss that it once meant something to be Southern or Midwestern. It doesn't mean much now, except for the climate. The question, 'Where are you from?' doesn't lead to anything odd or interesting. They live somewhere near a Gap store, and what else do you need to know?"


How refreshing it would be to give up (the Gap and) City Life and move to a small town. Last whine, I promise: I WAAAANT it. I have been dreaming of small-town life, the kind you see in movies where the road's a little dusty and you can find a spectacular old house with pane glass windows and the prettiest little flower garden. And they put those hanging banners across the road during the County Fair. Y'know? I thought of it especially on July 4th this year. I told my Mom, "I just want to go to a Main Street parade, catch some bubble gum from a float, help AJ hold a sparkler, eat some watermelon, and not have to fight for an hour to find parking." (Instead, we shied away from Any and All July 4th activities this year). I think Husband should open an EB Games franchise -- because Lord knows, the kids in the sticks need their video games just like the rest of us! -- and I could help him run it or get a job at the local school. I could teach, right? AJ should grow up enjoying the clean air, the neighbors' dogs, and the chance to ride his bike all day long. Does that exist anymore? (Whi-i-i-i-ne.)

Now I'm done.

Man your stations.

The spaceship of our life has been hurling along on cruise-control these last few years. Bravely conquering new worlds, recently -- like diaper bags, jarred foods, The Wiggles, and Build-A-Bear-Workshop -- worlds we never considered would be major landmarks in our overall landscape! But mostly, cruising. Auto-Pilot is a wonderful thing. It lets you input your basic schedule, computes around small obstacles like return-to-work-after-pregnancy, nighttime feedings, and fevers of 103, and then takes over with a scheduled routine that carries the ship through, day after day. The Crew doesn't have to think much about it.

But our Auto-Pilot doesn't seem to be working anymore! Indeed, we've had to rush to the controls and steer the ship hastily, lest it dive and gather speed (and catch fire), in these recent few weeks.

We had seen -- and avoided the pitfalls of -- some pretty big things before, like the House-Buying Vortex. The Black Hole known as Dead-End Employment. The exhilarating, swirling, but infinite depths of Planning a Wedding, even. But nothing like now. Our ride has taken a determined turn toward some bumpy air, and I'm not just talking about The Baby.

Captain the Husband is decidedly uninterested in his job, and that is definitely a scary Wormhole. He gazes out his tiny Captain's window at miles and miles of nothingness -- nothing to like about work, that is. Nothing to keep him sane. Nothing to inspire his intellect or grant him appreciation for his time and effort. Debris flies at him from every galaxy. New projects to manage here, shipping errors there, grumpy co-workers everywhere -- none of it his doing, but all of it on his shoulders. I sense he's a little depressed by it. He's flying the ship handily -- but he doesn't enjoy it. And every Pilot ought to enjoy the flying.

A recent flurry of pressurization in the atmosphere (known on Earth as Hurricane Dennis) has finally left our spaceship... wet. The lower levels, specifically, took on 6 galactic inches (and more than 60 gallons) of H2O, and the whole Crew is suffering mightily from the stench of mildew (and the previous Crew's smelly mascot, who must have stored his canine waste product in the basement carpet). Now we face a Clorox bath to prevent other odious interplanetary creatures (Germs!) from inhabiting our humble craft -- not to mention a complete overhaul of that section of the ship, in the form of Waterproofing. (We can only thank God we hadn't finished the room when the storm came ravaging.)

And yesterday, we found out from a free-floating astronaut who does Rocket Repairs, that our ship is probably crumbling to its demise, cosmetically. Same trouble the shuttle Columbia had, perhaps -- although it's completely inappropriate to spoof that tragedy -- but the panels on all sides of our ship are definitely ready for replacement. This Operations Controlwoman doesn't like to think about big-time repair jobs like siding replacement. Don't like having to spend the taxpayers' (our) money, you know. It's my job, if not to drive the ecnomics of the ship, then at least to monitor them. And these aren't happy economics. Basement repair, siding repair, trips cross-country, and Baby Needs New Shoes. (And did I forget to mention our 20-year-old AC unit will also need to be jettisoned and replaced next year?) Looks like I will be working full-time for a long time to come.

All we can do, really, is Man our Stations and hope the ship doesn't crash. That's what we've been doing. Another kind of auto-pilot, but with a constant eye on the attitude and pitch, making sure the horizon stays in view. (It doesn't, by the way, from the front porch, which is tilting unevenly and will also need fixing soon.) Captain hands me the headset, and takes position down below for maintenance and restoration. He also must inspect the surroundings (yard-work) in the next two days -- gotta keep that spaceship curb-appeal, you know, so that our neighbor Spaceships in this big, bad Universe aren't embarrassed by our presence here. I stand-by at the Home-caring terminal. Meals Ready to Eat, keeping things Ship-Shape, keeping the Crew clean and working efficiently.

I think that this strange part of the exosphere will pass us soon, and we can return to calmer stargazing and a more direct flight pattern. Until then, Mission: Living is certainly keeping us on our toes.

To "infinity and beyond?" Good Lord, Houston, I certainly hope not.


P.S. I just re-read this and it appears we did, in fact, get sucked into the House-Buying Vortex (of Hell). We just didn't know it at the time.

Next Up... a Plane Ride

Okay, we survived the busy end of June and our glorious beach week in Destin. (And in an up-to-the-minute report, we think our parents' home in Pensacola has also survived Hurricane Dennis. Y'know, when all your trees were blown away 10 months ago by Ivan, it makes for a much easier time of it. But Gawd, help! those poor people along the coast who have sustained new damage on top of all the old damage.)

We've survived what might be the last time in a while that BOTH sets of grandparents come to visit on the same weekend. I love having them all, but man, is that a busy way to spend 2 days!

We've survived the 1-year-old birthday party, complete with cake-diving and mid-party bathing activities. The little man was head-to-toe covered in blue buttercream. It was Awesome. He gets an A+.

We've just this morning survived our latest round of shots from the pediatrician.

Next up: We are traveling to my sister's wedding in 10 days! In Seattle! Folks, that's a 6-hour plane ride with an active 1-year-old boy.

So Pray For Us.

One moment with my birthday boy

This Morning is a special one. We wake up early, and tip-toe-parade into AJ's room, softly singing Happy Birthday, as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up in his crib. He's so cute, reaching for Mommy, then pointing at Daddy's cap that hangs on our mirror, as he always does. "Dah, dah..." he calls it. "Yes, honey, that's Daddy's HAT. HHHAT. Can you say hat?" ..."dah dih dah dih dah dah." Then he remembers to look for the dog. "Hih, hih, hih," he pants, like Napoleon. "Where's Polie? Oh, THERE he is! Look, honey, he wants to kiss you for your birthday!" And AJ giggles with delight while getting completely slimed with dog kisses. "hih, hih, hih." AJ does a really good 'dog.' (It's his Baby Sign.)

We get ready, come downstairs, and... ooh, look, AJ! Presents on your high chair! (The first of many.) We open. We play. We stick the bows in our hair. Daddy has to leave. Mommy begins the morning work-routine. Get out the laptop. Listen to AJ fuss because he can't touch the screen. Get breakfast. etc. All is going fine until 8:30, when AJ starts to get sleepy, but WILL NOT admit defeat. I try once to put him in his crib -- he screams for 20 minutes. I believe in letting him Cry It Out, but he just isn't having it this time. Okay, fine, we go downstairs if he wants to play. Put him on the floor. Nope. "Aaaaaaahhhhhh, ah, aha hahahaahhhhaaaaa!!" he wails. "HOLD ME!" he's saying. "Honey, I can't hold you every minute of the day. I have things to do. Look!! Let's play with your new See and Say."

It goes on like this until forever, and all the while I'm sneaking in a few minutes of work here and there, and also watching the clock faithfully, because I don't want to miss 9:42 am. We play a bit, I get up to wash a dish, he realizes I'm gone, he cries. He tries to step into the fridge while I'm getting a drink for myself. He cries when I won't let him stay there. He climbs all the way to the top of the stairs. I pick him up, try rocking again. 9:00am. Not having it. More of the same wrestling match. Finally, I decide maybe he needs another bottle. So we sit down on the sofa... at 9:35. Hmh, look how conveniently that turned out. Now he quiets down and drinks. I'm calmed, watching him. I'm remembering the epidural, and how I clicked that handy little button a few times in the early stages of the morning, 1 year ago! And then I remember how they said I pushed for 30 minutes... but when I try to picture it, it doesn't seem like more than ten. And I remember how bug-eyed DH was as it all happened -- so fast, so foreign an experience. I remember how we called and called my parents to make sure they didn't miss it, but the phone wasn't in their room and they didn't hear it ringing. (They made it on time anyway.) I remember the "french fry" warmer. I remember the song that was turning over and over in my head. All of a sudden it's 9:42. I remember when the doctor held you up and Daddy had to turn away a little bit, so overcome. And how I said, "I can't believe he's here already!" And how we named you, out loud, from across the room while they cleaned you off. And how I got to hold you. How tiny you were. How warm. How we all cried. So I'm crying now a little bit.

But I'm so glad I got to share this moment with you this morning. ALL of these moments. They're all part of your little life -- our little life. Do I wish you were still as itsy-bitsy and quiet as that first day? No way. I'm treasuring that memory, and this morning's tough ones, and anxious to make new happy ones together. Happy Birthday, my little boy. Your Mommy loves you, more than more than more.

Huh, how 'bout that!

(Kinda handy having that little to-do list down there...)

Last night I had dinner with a friend.... An online friend, whom I'd never seen face-to-face before. My first online buddy "hook-up!" How exciting! How 21st century! Since I was already married by the time I discovered message boards and blogs, I never got to do any online dating, so this -- having perfect strangers inside the computer for friends, and wanting to meet them -- still feels a bit brand-new for me. It helped that I've "known" Stacie for more than a couple of years now, but we were both still slightly nervous. I found that funny. Two girls! Both married! What's scary about that? But those little butterflies got antsy down in my tummy all the same. Kind-of a fun feeling, anticipation. When I arrived at her hotel, I couldn't help but hug her. And the whole evening was just like old home week -- we talked about our mutual friends that we hadn't "seen" [on the message board] in a while, and got caught up with each other's lives and families, and shared fitness woes (since that's how we met -- a fitness board).

Another friend and I wondered yesterday if the Internet brings us closer together through interludes like this one, or keeps us apart by gluing us to our keyboards and screens instead of having to walk 30 feet and knock on the neighbor's door. I guess it's a little of both.

But I'm very glad to have a friend now, in Alaska, with whom I can share a pleasant memory, a shared experience. "Hey Stacie, remember that time we hung out in Duluth?""Yeah, when we ate that amazing Dark Chocolate Mousse Cake?" "Yeah, that time." "That was fun." :)

Wow, long time no post!

My mind is abuzz these days with all the upcoming events and engagements for which I am responsible. Some of those are my own doing, and maybe things I shouldn't have scheduled. Like today's lunch date with a college friend I haven't seen in a while. It will be nice, and, hey, a girl's gotta eat... but I could seriously be using that time to complete one of the half-million projects on my radar.

• (work project:) writing the summer newsletter for Client X
  
• (work project:) testing the revised app for Client X
  
• (work project:) testing and proofreading the website for Client Y
  
• (work project:) sitting on the phone for 2 hours for Client Y
  
• (FUN project:) ordering the cake for AJ's first b'day party
  
• (FUN project:) going to Party City for decorations for AJ's party
  
• (FUN project:) wrapping presents for AJ (Do you wrap presents for a 1-yr-old? Logic says no, but he does love a good paper-ripping opportunity.... hard to decide)
  
• (FUN project:) getting alterations to my bridesmaid dress for Sissy's wedding (fingers crossed that it will take less than 2 weeks)
  
• (FUN project:) helping Sissy with itinerary for Wedding Weekend
  
• (FUN project:) buying and reading the next Book Club selection (ha! leisure reading? yeah, right)
  
• (MUST-DO project:) learning music and cantoring at Mass on Saturday night
  
• (MUST-DO project:) hair appointment next week
  
• (MUST-DO project:) vacuuming the house
  
• (MUST-DO project:) cooking for our friend coming to dinner Thursday night...
  

..... and yet, there's more. I'm doing surprisingly well with the stress -- I'm not stressing, actually. But my Palm is definitely "full-up." No time for reflection, just go-go-go! But hey, I'm thinking it's good to actually live life once in a while.

Wheeee! Catch y'all on the flip side....!

Toni, speaking to my heart

I've found a mommy who knows my heart at Strong Coffee. I wish I'd written her post from a few days back. It's precisely what I have been thinking lately -- what I wish I could embrace fully and stop pouting about -- on being a working mom at home. Here are excerpts. Go read her. She's smart.

She says, that when you're working at home, with all its interruptions and distractions (i.e., the kids themselves):

Play with them, read to them, walk with them, take them on picnics. Be the mom, don't sweat the deadlines (much). Then, during a lull in the day or when one or more are napping, set up some down time for them and work for a bit. Sit wherever they are in a comfy chair with a lap desk and work while they drive trains and cars along your arms and legs, happy just for the security and warmth of your presence. They will survive...

Ask [the husband] to take over both dinner and clean-up so I can work. Both of those chores are normally my province, since he's outside of the home busting his hump for 10+ hours/day. But he understands deadlines and knows how much work I have. "No problem" is his reply.

(It's funny, Toni, that my husband is always willing to do the cooking and clean-up, too... and yet I rarely ask him to.)

Weather the interruptions gracefully not grumpily.

Get up early when I can, before the kids. Work late if I have to. Never forget that they will only be this tiny and needful for the blink of an eye. Remember to give thanks for all I do have when I'm scared I'm not going to make it or worrying over all I don't.

What a lovely reminder to be grateful. Especially for the time I have with AJ. To this wise advice, I can only add:

When it's naptime, and he crawls up into the crook of your neck, closes his eyes, and listens to you hum, stay there just one extra moment before putting him down and closing the door. The work can wait.

Had a good night

AJ had a much better night last night, and evidently, a good day at daycare. Less crying, more walking! He's been doing great -- his little legs are just getting so strong! It's so hard to believe how much they learn in the first year.

I should not watch "Nanny 911"

Or, WTF??

Last night we tuned to my Favorite Channel (sarcasm), Fox, and took in an episode of the latest reality smash, "Nanny 911." Now, normally I enjoy watching hapless parents make idiots of themselves on national television. (Especially the episode where the 3-year-old would only pee OUTSIDE or in the shower, because the potty was "too scary." Not to make fun, and I know potty training is hard, but c'mon, people -- who lets their kid pee outside in the yard?? Ah, the joy of reality TV.) Last night's installment, however, hit a little too close to home.

See, AJ has recently taken to screaming fits. You might call them tantrums. It happens whenever he is left by himself for, oh, I don't know, Two Seconds. I don't know what is going on in his little brain but if I set him down on the kitchen floor, and give him a toy or two for distraction, and walk the 3 feet to the sink to wash my hands.... he starts in with the crying. And I don't mean whimpering -- this is all-out, hold-my-breath-til-I-turn-blue Crying. Wailing. He'll only stop if I pick him up.

Um, hello? AJ? C'mon now, you're a good kid.... what have I done to deserve this? I don't spoil him. For heaven's sake, I take him to day care 3 days a week -- he knows he can survive without me. It's not like I sit with him all day, every day. The day care teachers say he does the same to them, lately. Another example: I have put him to bed without him being asleep (a gentler method of Ferberizing, I think) for several months now -- he's done fine. But last night, he wouldn't have it. My question is this -- Is AJ manipulating me (and them) before he is One Year Old??? Or is it just a bout of separation anxiety (read: a Phase) and he'll get over it?

Parents, please chime in and tell me this is normal. Tell me this is a phase. He's also grown very attached to his blankie, so I think he's just having some separation issues right now. Right? RIGHT??