Mrs. MidAtlantic

Miss Me?

2012-01-09T15:18:00.000-05:00

Hello out there!
Just a quick note in case anyone hasn't found me over at wordpress.
Here I am! Alive and well!
Please visit? I love you!

Can you find me?

2011-10-18T10:05:00.000-04:00

Is my new, fancy Wordpress site showing up in your Google reader? No? Try clicking "stop following," then re-add me through Google Friends Connect from the new site!

I Moved!

2011-10-07T09:14:00.000-04:00

If you are wondering where I have been, come find me at http://mrsmidatlantic.com/! I made the switch. I'm a WP girl now. Everything is the same on your end, even if I'm still working out the differences on the back end. Hope to see you soon!

Naptime!

2011-09-26T08:52:00.001-04:00

I had been telling Laura it was time for a nap. She didn't believe me. Mommy is always right.

We Need to Practice Our L's

2011-09-22T09:30:00.000-04:00

Oh, the glory and wonder of the iPhone video capabilities, with that swivel option so you can see yourself on the screen! I have Laura on my lap, trying to get her to record a message to her new cousin. Which is something in itself, since Laura isn't exactly speaking in messages yet. So I have Laura on my lap, asking her to repeat words like some sort of parrot, when she sees herself on the screen. Shock! Awe! And instead of answering my stupid promptings, she breaks into song. About herself.

Cute, right? Because I am just about dying of laughter over here. Or should I say "yaughter?" We really need to start practicing those La la la sounds. If you are wondering? We did eventually record a very sweet message for Cousin Elizabeth. On the sixth take.

Concentration

2011-09-20T14:58:00.000-04:00

The Man is expecting me to concentrate on my work while I am at work today. Nonsense. How can The Man expect me to concentrate when my niece was just born!!!!!!! I have far more important things to think about than work!

I'm an auntie!!!!!!!!

This is old hat for my brothers and sister, who have each been an aunt or an uncle for nearly 20 months now. But somehow, I got left out of that club when Laura was born. Being the mother and all. But now! I get to the join the club!

My older brother's daughter was born this morning, just as I was reaching to hit the snooze button on my alarm clock. They did not know if they were having a boy or a girl, and the baby was ten days past her due date. The suspense has been killing me.

So if you are expecting any level of concentration from me today? Forget it. I am way to excited about being an auntie to pay attention to anything else!

Lawn Seats

2011-09-19T09:03:00.000-04:00

I don't know why anyone bought actual seats for the Laurie Berkner Band concert this weekend. Seriously. What was the point of seats, when every single child was running amok on the lawn? My friend and I nodded in agreement: lawn seats are the way to go. Children running everywhere, hurling fistfuls of goldfish crackers about the lawn, darting, jumping and dancing. Lots of dancing.

I can't remember much about the actual music. It didn't make my ears bleed. But it also wasn't all that memorable. I have a feeling that parents who have listened to the CDs on a loop would beg to differ. I can tell you that Laurie was up on stage in a hot pink and gold tutu - IN HEELS - expending more energy in one song than I can expend in a week. It was impressive.

Laura and her friend had a fabulous time, even though the other mother and I were completely unprepared. We were not told we needed to bring silly animal hats to participate with various songs! I think Laura and A will survive, but still. All in all, it was a fun event. I'm glad we went! Our two little friends held hands the whole car ride home. Does it get any cuter?

Ahh! The cuteness!

Never Say Never

2011-09-16T15:03:00.000-04:00

"Ugh. I would never spend money to make my ears bleed at a rock concert for kids. Never."

I just bought lawn seats for the Laurie Berkner Band concert tomorrow.

To be honest, I haven't actually listened to any of this music. I am told that it's not ear-bleeding obnoxious. I've been told that it's cheerful and cute. So why am I taking Laura to see a band I'd never heard of?

Friendship.

Friendship is something I am always on the look out to obtain. I want it like I want a cup of hot cocoa on a crisp morning. Badly. I'm not always good at reaching out to people to get this cozy thing called friendship. Making friends is not my forte. But oh, do I want friends!

Through the magical powers of being "friends" with Laura's day care teachers on Facebook, I have been able to connect with a few of the other mother's. Enter L and her daughter A. Laura and A are best good friends, in the way that only toddlers can be. They adore each other without shyness or inhibition. L is just as awesome. So when L asked if Laura and I would like to join them at this concert, I jumped at the chance.

I may or may not enjoy the music tomorrow. We'll see. But I do know I will enjoy the concert. I can't wait to sit with L, watching Laura and A bask in their friendship.

2011-09-15T15:34:00.000-04:00

I'm having one of those days where I just don't want to do any of my work. I'm looking for anything and everything I can do to avoid my usual files. It's so bad, I pulled out a project that I volunteered to work on two years ago: an update to the procedure manual. That's right. I'm procrastinating so badly, I pulled out a project I've procrastinated starting for two years.

I've spent all morning reorganizing, copying, pasting, rewriting... I've hardly made a dent. Partly because this thing hasn't been updated in nearly fifteen years. Which is really bad: we do hardly anything the same way anymore! It's going to take some time to get this thing right... but at least it's not my usual files. At least it's something different. Right?

I would so much rather be home in my jammies right now. Is it Friday yet?

Feeling Positive

2011-09-13T14:10:00.000-04:00

I'm no stranger to tummy aches. I have had a nervous stomach since childhood. Which is unfortuante, because I'm also terrified of puking.

Aren't we cute?

So last week when I was feeling a little pukier than usual, I took a pregnancy test. I debated it in my head for hours. I wasn't sure I wanted to know either way, since I was going into a weekend with friends. But I woke up Friday morning, feeling all shaky and OMG I have to know one way or the other or I will puke which is scary and yucky. So I peed and I waited.

I only got one line. But that's ok, because now I know and I'll pack some tampons for my weekend with friends. Did I feel a little pukey on Saturday and Sunday? Yeah, but that's because I was in the car for a total of 8 hours and I get car sick sometimes (even when driving). So I moved on with my life.

I was in the grocery store on Monday and walked past the "Feminine Hygiene" aisle. Those words alone are enough to give me a tummy ache. Could Giant make being a woman sound any pukier? But I turned the cart down the aisle, stopped in front of the pregnancy tests, and grabbed a two-pack of the fancy digital kind before I even realized what I was doing. I promptly buried the package under a loaf of bread and some bananas, because GOD I didn't want anyone to see me buying those!

Laura and I got home from the store, I unloaded the groceries, set the tests on the stairs to go to the bathroom, and then remembered I needed to pee. In slow-motion I realized I was unwrapping the box and pulling out a stick. Suddenly I was peeing on it. The bile rose in my throat. I washed my shaky hands, looked down at the stick, and totally did a double-take:

Isn't the word "NOT" supposed to appear?

I'm pregnant!
Cue puking!
OMG I'm pregnant!

Nate and I are thrilled, over the moon, and incredibly excited. My first OB appointment is 10/10 - I hope to have more to tell you then. Like a due date.

***For a few certain readers, NOT A WORD of this. To anyone! You know who you are :)

Heart NYC

2011-09-13T08:50:00.001-04:00

I spent the weekend in NYC. Not because of the memorials and ceremonies going on. I was in NYC despite all the memorials and ceremonies! I fought rumored tunnel and bridge closings (through shocking non-existent traffic) to be in New York for one of my best good friends, getting married a year from now.

I'm not sure I've ever been more excited to be in a wedding. Well, other than my own. I was damn excited to be in that one! I loved being included as a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding. Again this May for my husband's sister. I have had fun being a bridesmaid for other friends... but not as much as this wedding! Maybe it's because I have never felt more included.

I spent the weekend in NYC with three fellow bridesmaids: one I've enjoyed as an acquaintance, one I've loved since college, and one I've known since birth. We were celebrating our dear friend, the bride to be. This weekend, New York City was the best place on earth to be.

Remember

2011-09-09T10:36:00.000-04:00

Ten years have gone by since the world as we know it changed. Ten years. That amazes me, because in so many ways it feels like 9/11/01 was just yesterday. But no, ten years have passed. Ten years of life and ten years change. Ten years ago, I was a truly immature college sophomore with a crush on a tennis player. Ten years ago, on a random Monday, I was making plans with this guy to "hang out" at his friend's off-campus house that night, where there'd be some more "privacy" if you know what I mean. That evening would probably have been forgettable, if it weren't for the next morning.

Driving back to campus with the obnoxious morning radio DJs blaring over an awkward silence, we heard that one plane had mistakenly flown into a building in New York City. Which just seemed ridiculous. I skipped up the two flights of stairs to my dorm room and opened the door just in time to see my roommates face fall in horror as a second plane hit. We held each other, watching in silent terror as the world changed.

By 10:30 that morning, the air was filled with the sounds of helicopters and sirens. Northern Virginia hospitals were flooded with victims, and needed the help of hospitals further south. Students lined campus walk holding hands in a silent prayer, many of us wondering about friends and relatives who had not yet checked in from their offices in New York or DC.

Ten years have gone by. I can usually lighten my memories of 9/11 by remembering how I heard: on the car ride home from a one-night stand. It seems almost funny, when I think of a day with such an awkward start. I can dull the emotional horror of everything else, by looking back at myself as a childish nineteen-year-old on a walk of shame. Where was I on September 11th? I was a stupid child about to do a whole lot of growing up, all before lunchtime. Where were you?

More rain?

2011-09-08T10:22:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling all yucky today. I've said it before, but this rainy weather really gets me down. We are on what seems like Day 92 of rainy, dreary weather, and it's really messing with my ability to find the good in anything. My tummy is all in knots. Last night, I sat on a train in the station for an hour. We left the station a full hour late. And this was the early train I hopped on because I had a bad feeling that the trains would be delayed. Nate had to cancel an appointment to get Laura from day care on time, since I was still sitting on the wretched train. It was not our best night.

I got really upset on the train, all panicky about getting Laura, and I had a lot of trouble letting it go. I went to bed early, but was still feeling out of sorts this morning as the rain poured down outside my window. I went to the gym, and really pushed myself till my legs were wobbly, just trying to burn off the feeling of impending doom. Instead of shaking the feeling, the workout just left me feeling even more spent. I need some sun.

Holy Flooding

2011-09-07T14:55:00.000-04:00

Remember when we got all excited for Hurricane Irene? Yeah, that was fun times! Remember when we got all excited for Katia and Lee? WAIT A MINUTE. We didn't!

This insanity is occuring right now. One town from where I live. I'm sitting at work (in a basement) 35 miles from home, wondering if the flooding is as bad where I live. I'm wondering if the flooding is as bad where Laura's daycare is located. I'm wondering if I should rush home. I'm wondering if the trains will run on time, with such treacherous rain. I'm wondering if the End of Days is here. I'm wondering what to do.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-09-07T13:47:00.000-04:00

Oh Happy Day

2011-09-06T09:32:00.000-04:00

Labor Day has come and gone, leaving the first stirrings of Autumn in its wake. Children are lined up at bus stops, hoodies wrapped around their too-cool bodies. Here are some things making me happy today:

Exhibit A

1) Laura is wearing an honest-to-God fall outfit at school today! With pants! And an autumnal-orange shirt! She looks both adorable and grown-up. She's closer to 2 than to 1, after all (see Exhibit A)!

2) It's my dad's birthday! Happy birthday, Dad!

3) It was Laura's buddy's 2nd birthday this weekend! Laura got to wield a bat and whack her first pinata (see Exhibit B)!

Exhibit B

4) We went to the State Fair yesterday, and lucked out on the rain. We stayed dry, ate fried oreos (yummy, I think. Maybe not. No wait, they were good... er?), tortured Laura on a Carousel, and watched her flirt with her favorite boyfriend on the tractors (see Exhibit C). The fair was when I realized, OMG I am such a suburbanite. There were teenage girls leading cows to the competition ring like it was the cool thing to do. Where I grew up? Horses were the cool thing to lead around on a bridle, not cows. And I was all, "Are there really that many working farms in Maryland?" And Nate was all, "Um. DUH!" So I guess I need to see more of Maryland before I can really call myself "Mrs. MidAtlantic," because I'm clearly from the Northeast, sorta.

Exhibit C

5) This morning was chilly. Chilly enough that I wanted to wear flats, and then discovered that I can no longer safely walk in any of my fall-appropriate flats, because I have killed them. Which means SHOE SHOPPING!

6) It's now cool and fall-ish enough outside that I can legitimately work on the Christmas projects I started in July without looking like a (completely) crazy person! Yay! Christmas!

7) Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back in town.

Summer of Classics: Captains Courageous

2011-09-02T14:21:00.000-04:00

I am so glad I left Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling for the last installment of my Summer of Classics reading challenge. This was such a fun story, with a great moral. A spoiled brat of a kid is lost overboard and picked up by a fishing boat just out of Gloucester heading for the Banks. Harvey can help fish or he can starve. He chooses fishing - which leads to grand adventures and lots of growing up.

Everything about this book appealed to me. I love adventure stories. I loved the imagery supplied by Kipling. I loved the language, with dialogue written as one would hear it spoken. The characters were all fantastic. And it was perfect to read during the summer, just when the boats are out fishing.

I remember picking up this book to read one summer, somewhere around age 12. I remember reading a few pages, and then putting it down (even though I swear up and down that I've never not finished a book). I couldn't get past the dialogue. I loved the phonetic spelling now, as an adult, but I think it was too much for me to decipher back then. This is a children's book, but that doesn't make it an easy read!

Not even three chapters in, I found myself routing for Harvey. I knew he'd be faced with a tough decision when he got back to land, and I hoped he would make the right decision. As for Disko Troop, I can't imagine a better father, for anyone. What an awesome role model! Don your sou'wester rain gear and pick up this book. You won't regret the few hours it will take you to read Captains Courageous. Kipling is the best!

No Apologies

2011-09-01T11:40:00.000-04:00

I took Laura to Panera for dinner on Monday, because I thought she might like to use the free WiFi for a little Diego fix. I was all pumped up on "AWESOME MOM" vibes as we hauled our gear to a booth and set up shop. "Laura is so going to love me for this! Yay, Diego for making me look awesome!"

And then Laura proceeded to not care a lick for her lover boy, preferring instead to push a gazillion buttons and open and shut the screen over and over. The more I tried to get her to stop banging on the precious laptop, the harder she banged, and the more frustrated I became. At that point, I was starting to get all worried and self-conscious of the staring eyes of the other diners. I imagined them scorning my parenting, "Why can't she get that little brat to stop yelling and banging?" In my embarassed frustration, I whisked the laptop away from the exuberant tot and started trying to collect myself.

In an instant, Laura was behaving as well as I've ever seen her. Just content to sit on the funny bench, eating some brocolli & cheddar soup. An older man came over, smiled, and said, "You are doing such a great job. What a well-behaved little girl." Well, that was certainly not anything I expected to hear.

But Laura was being a well-behaved little girl. She was behaving as well as anyone could expect from a toddler at dinnertime in a restaurant. A little crazy? Yeah, but that comes with the territory. I am sure that man saw me get frustrated, and he knew that sometimes moms just need a little reassurance that they're doing things "right." Bless that man.

In a similar vein, last night I apologized in an off-hand manner as my grocery cart went careening into another man's cart. I usually have better control, but that's usually because I can get Laura to sit nicely in the cart. Last night, she insisted on being held as I pushed the heavily laden cart with one hand through the aisles. I apologized, automatically, as my one hand had lost control for a moment. This man looked at my comically loaded cart, toddler in arms, laughed and said, "Never be sorry!"

He was right. Never be sorry. Reminders that we are good mothers can come in the funniest messages. The older man at the restaurant. Or another at the grocery store. Simple messages that we are doing our best, and that we should ever apologize for doing our best.

Summer of Classics: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

2011-08-31T10:40:00.000-04:00

Without a doubt, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith has to be one of the most poignant and beautiful books I have ever read. From the first page, I was hooked. I wanted to know Francie Nolan. I wanted to watch who she would become. I wanted to know her hardships and find the beauty in the life she lived.

As I read further, I found myself in love with the whole Nolan family. I can't imagine a stronger mother than Katie Nolan. I hope to be half as good a mother as Katie - I also hope to never feel the poverty she endured to give her children everything she did. The whole family worked, and hungered, and ached, and shivered together. They wanted for so much. And yet... somehow, they had so much.

They shared love and laughter. They shared their hard-earned dollars. They never hesitated to give everything they had for each other. They created memories - beautiful memories. The Nolans were at peace with who they were and from where they came from. Such amazing strength. And the motivation of that Francie! What a child! So imaginative. So honest. So able to overcome.

I had heard the following quote before:

"Let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry...have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere-be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost."

And this speaks to me. As a daughter, wife, friend, coworker, mother. Let me be something every minute. And more so, let me appreciate who I am every minute.

And the best explanation I have ever known for believing in Santa (I still believe, to this day):

"Because," explained Mary Rommely simply, "the child must have a valuable thing which is called imagination. The child must have a secret world in which live things that never were. It is necessary that she believe. She must start out by believing in things not of this world. Then when the world becomes too ugly for living in, the child can reach back and live in her imagination. I, myself, even in this day and at my age, have great need of recalling the miraculous lives of the Saints and the great miracles that have come to pass on earth. Only by having these things in my mind can I live beyond what I have to live for."

Beautiful.

An Ode to Work (and Electricity)

2011-08-30T09:37:00.000-04:00

Oh, to be back at work,
Where there is the loveliest little toaster for bagels,
Where lightbulbs fill whole rooms with light,
Where computers connect to internet,
Where vacuums TURN ON when plugged into the wall.
Oh work! Oh blessed work with the electricity therein!

As you might have guessed, we are still without power. BGE estimates that power will be restored by Friday at the latest... or maybe Saturday morning. I can't make this shit up. They actually said in their message, "Definitely Friday! But maybe Saturday." So I'm planning on spending the long weekend gutting my fridge, cleaning every surface, and spending hundreds of dollars to fill it again. Yay!

But on a positive note? Aside from the loss of my refrigerator, I am actually really enjoying the loss of electricity. My house is amazingly calm and quiet. Nothing is whirring. Nothing is buzzing. The TV is continually silent. Nate was talking about how much he missed TV (not me!). Laura looked over at it and said, "Oh yeah!" She had completely forgotten about her friends Dora, Diego, Elmo and Cookie. The quiet is music to my ears. I swear, I have even enjoyed being a mom more since the power went out. I have spent more time on the floor, reading, playing, gobbling that little sweet baby neck spot than ever before. I almost don't want the power back, except that I'd like my fridge.

Since losing power, I have had my moments of frustration. I have been snappy and bitchy. But I'm always a little snappy and a little bitchy. I'm mostly snappy and bitchy when people ask about the fridge. It is what it is! We've lost the food, and that sucks. But we could be a whole lot worse off. WE HAVE HOT WATER. Done. Period. Given the choice between power and water? I'll take safe (and heated) water any day. We'll get the electricity back in good time.

For now, I am truly content to suck up as much electricity as I can at work, and spend quiet candlelit evenings with Nate and Laura.

Sometimes I clean when I'm bored

2011-08-29T14:59:00.001-04:00

I'm pretty bored today. I was yesterday too, which means I'm extra bored today. Laura's down for a second nap, so I figured I'd clean. Since I have nothing else to do. So I got out the vacuum, plugged it in and turned it on.

That's when I remembered the reason I'm so bored: my electricity has been out for over 36 hours. I put the vacuum back. I'm still bored, but now I'm also embarrassed.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Am I Wrong?

2011-08-27T08:08:00.001-04:00

Laura is a small child. She's in the 20th percentile for height and weight - and has been since she was six months old. She's perfectly healthy. Perfectly! She just happens to be smaller than 80% of children her age on average. Averages have highs and lows on both ends, which is how we come to create averages. So just being a little smaller on average does not make Laura unhealthy in any way.

So it really bothers me when family obsessively discusses Laura's small build. Last time I checked, having a healthy, active and lean child was a good thing. So why does everyone want to Laura to plump up?

I have had body image issues almost my whole life. I didn't recognize my skewed feelings about my body until college, when I was 104 pounds soaking wet. When I realized it then, I felt all the memories of self-disgust woosh in and slap me in the face. At age three, I paid more attention to what my stomach looked like when I sucked in than the Pirates of Caribbean live-action show going on in front of me at Disney World. At five, I realized that my thighs looked thinner when I crossed my legs like an adult, which is why to this day I cannot sit with my legs uncrossed. And I was just as small a toddler as Laura is now.

I can't help but feeling that obsessing over Laura's weight will only encourage her to focus on it later. Laura won't know that we are worried about her being too small. All she will know is that we overlook everything else to discuss her weight. If we don't fuss over how well she's learning words or the new color she learned - and only fuss over her weight, what message are we sending our daughter. I admit, too, that at times I have worried about her small size; I'm her mom and I don't want to mess this up. But I'm done with it. Laura is a perfectly healthy child in every way. She is smart as a whip with a great sense of humor - and she's not even telling jokes yet. I can't wait to see how she turns out. And I don't care how big or small she will be.

Hurricane Proofing

2011-08-26T11:53:00.000-04:00

I've seen my share of hurricanes in my day. At age 3, Hurricane Elena hovered over my family's then-home in Tampa, FL, for days while my parents were away on a vacation. My grandmother set up our Hurricane Headquarters in the central bathroom. It was at the center of the house with no windows, and made a perfect fort for a three-year-old with her seven-year-old brother. We had a sleeping bag in the tub, apple juice under the counter, and played hour upon hour of "pirate." It was the best week of my toddler life.

Fast-forward six years to Hurricane Bob in 1991. My mom was due with baby #4 at the beginning of September, so she cut short our annual stay at the summer home on the Cape. My grandmother (the same as above) didn't think it was fair for me to go home two whole weeks early, so she convinced my mom to let me stay on the Cape with her and my great-grandmother (who owned the house). I was psyched! A whole two weeks with the grammys! It was going to be awesome. I was even more excited when I heard Hurricane Bob was barreling towards us. My mom swore she'd never leave me with my grandmother again (but she did). I had a sweet set-up in the corner of the kitchen, snuggled in a sleeping bag surrounded by cookies and some new books. And I had a perfect view of the old oak tree as it crashed down onto the house. No injuries, but we were without power for the remainder of that vacation. We had a gas stove and food in the freezer that needed cooking. I stayed up with the Grammies, talking by candlelight of their childhoods. I'll never have another week like that in my life. Hundreds of games of cards and priceless memories.

So when Hurricane Isabel was due to hit the fall of my senior year of college, I made tracks for Baltimore to weather the storm with my sweetheart. We stocked up on beer and watched the rain stream sideways across the house. Every house across the street lost power. Our side of the street did not. We hooked up an extension cord and offered electricity to the neighbors, played a lot of poker, and drank a lot of beer. My housemates in Virginia hosted a Hurricane Party in our house, where the electricity was lost for days. A friend from William & Mary was visiting for the storm and wound up staying two weeks. When she finally got back to school (which had been closed due to severe damage), her cadaver was in bad shape. She continued the autopsy. This is why I was an Art History major.

Hurricane Irene is swiftly approaching. I have stocked up with some pantry milk for Laura and a new long-handled lighter for our gas stove. We have three sets of candlesticks ready to be lit. I know where two (working) flashlights are. Nate is buying the typical bottled water and toilet paper. We have lots of wine and a huge pot of chili in the fridge. We are ready to weather this storm. I just hope the earth doesn't decide to quake once again as the rain clouds pummel our house. Good luck, everyone!

Cape Escape

2011-08-25T14:54:00.000-04:00

Wait, you didn't know I was gone? That's because I'm all cagey and stuff. But I'm back. After a beautiful week at my family's summer home. After a week of sun and ice cream and waking with the sunrise. After a week of balloons and pizza (peee-sah!) at the band concert.

After a week of home cooked food in my favorite kitchen.

After a week of remembering the feel of sand between toes (some of us liked it better than the toddlers of us).

After a week of watching the fish get off-loaded at the pier while harbor seals wait, hoping for a stray to fall into their open mouths.

Down they go! Down the chute!

At least four seals bobbing by the pier

It was a beautiful week. Sunny and wonderful. I missed the earthquake in DC, as I lazed on the beach, watching the seagulls fly overhead. I am told that people felt the quake as far north as Boston. I guess I was cushioned by the sand beneath me. I didn't even see a Great White Shark on my trip - that's how calm and perfect everything was. Although, seeing a shark might have made it a little more perfect. Who knows. I'm back.

Fall

2011-08-22T09:45:00.001-04:00

I have a thing for autumn leaves. The color, the smell, the crunch. I think it stems from my early childhood living in Florida and visiting grandparents in New York and Massachusetts. We would fly up for a visit and see the trees in flaming oranges and reds. Trees - so foreign in my earliest memories. My books all showed trees with puffy green branches. The trees at my grandparents' houses were anything but.

On one trip North when I was in preschool, my mom helped me pick the prettiest leaves from my grandmother's yard. We ironed them between two sheets of waxed paper so their vibrant colors would last forever. When we got back to Florida, I brought the leaves into school for show-and-tell. Each of my classmates got to take one leaf home with them. Those leaves were such a novelty for us.

A few years later, my family moved to Connecticut. We had an enormous yard; a clearing surrounded by a small woods. We moved in the middle of winter, so we had almost lived at that house a full year when we first saw the enchanted forest around our house burst into color. When those leaves fell, we had mountains of leaves to play in. We would rake them into enormous piles, set the rakes to the side, and dive in head first. The leaves were so numerous, we could swim through them. We would play for hours until our piles were flattened and scattered, where we'd leave them to rake up again the next day. That was the best yard I have ever seen.

A few more years went by, and then my family moved one more time to Massachusetts. We moved in the fall, and were immediately met with a vibrant landscape. One of our first weekends at the new house, my parents piled us in the car for a drive. "Where are we going?" one of us asked. "Leaf-peeping!" my mother answered. Not much of an answer... until we got out into the mountains and were spellbound by the colors around us. We became seasoned leaf-peepers after that, driving around the state to see the trees in their finest. Stopping for apple picking and cider. Breathing in the colors. Rejoicing in Fall.

Living in Maryland, where I've been for the past seven years, I still appreciate the colors of the trees around me. I look forward to weekends driving out Route 70 into the country to see the lines of brightly colored trees dotting the landscape. I can't wait to have a yard filled with leaves to rake up and jump in with Laura. I hope to someday decorate our house with waxed-encased leaves, just so I can see the wonder on my daughter's face. I have a thing for autumn leaves.

What do you like best about Fall?? Link up with MamaInsomnia!

The Toy Box

2011-08-18T10:57:00.001-04:00

Do you have in-laws with great intentions and poor execution? I do. My mother- and father-in-law mean so well. They have the best of intentions. They just don't always check in with Nate or me before executing these intentions. Which is why Laura has a plastic kitchen (rather than the wooden one I was planning to buy her), a purple Tinkerbell foam chair (rather than something a little more neutral and a little less... garish), and a big, wooden toy box.

I never intended for Laura to have enough toys to warrant a toy box. Maybe a small basket, with a tub of rotation toys in the basement to switch things up. But never a whole toy box. Imagine my surprise when I came home from work a few weeks ago to a mammoth toy box sitting in my family room. "And it's in cherry! To match the other furniture! Because [I] wouldn't have liked the white that [MIL] wanted to get!" Very good intentions, thank you very much, I'm going to go seethe in a corner now until I can get a grip.

No really, I'm quite appreciative of the gesture. Laura's toys (of which Nate and I have bought maybe 3) were running rampant all over the room. It was a disaster. The toy box really does speed clean-up. In a way.
The toys all have little accessories. The Little People have a whole township of crap that goes along with them. The duplos - OMG. And have any of you heard of "Flat People?" These flat plastic people were resurrected from my in-law's basement. They have little outfits that snap on, and actually Laura loves them since even a toddler can change their clothes. I'd never heard of them before, I'm guessing they are vestiges of my SIL born in 1989. As "cute" as they are - they have pieces. Lots and lots of pieces. And the toy box was filled with hundreds of small parts belonging to a greater whole.

All those little pieces, lying loose and scattered in the toy box, were giving my palpitations. Laura couldn't really play with anything in its entirety, because the entirety was spread all over the bottom of the toy box. Enter: GENIUS.

Source

Stacking boxes. I got four in two sizes: two larger and two smaller. They are already filled. I have one for Little People. Another for the Flat People things. A third for zoo animals. And a fourth for Care Bears and My Little Ponies (vestiges of my childhood, c. 1982!) The stacking boxes fit so neatly in the toy box, like they were meant to be in there all along.

The family room is tidier. My brain is tidier. Sanity has returned to our house. I have made my peace with the toy chest. Everything is going to be alright.

Summer of Classics: Women in Love

2011-08-17T11:32:00.000-04:00

Women in Love by D. H. Lawrence was added to the Summer of Classics because my mother wrote a significant paper on it in college and offered me her old c.1972 copy, complete with her maiden name written on the title page and her underlines and notes throughout. I read it because I figured my mom liked it enough to write a paper about and because I figured I needed some Lawrence to round out my Summer of Classics. A little eroticism never hurts, right?

My notes: excuse the handwriting!

I won't write an essay expound on what I thought of this novel, it would be too much. Although, I did take a bunch of notes while reading (which is why I always keep a little notebook and pen in my purse)! I had to. The notes kept me sane. This novel was so thick with theories, philosophies and entendre. I found myself referring to readings I did for graduate school - Karl Marx, Leon Foucault, Walter Benjamin - readings I'm not sure I really understood even in graduate school! I couldn't believe I was referencing them for a "fun" summer read. Women in Love brought new meaning to the Summer of Classics reading challenge. I certainly was challenged!

It's hard to say what I enjoyed in reading this book. I didn't hate it, but I suppose I wasn't prepared for such a difficult book at the height of summer. Some sections were really hot and heavy... which left me lusting for my husband; he very much appreciated this aspect. Other sections of the book were beyond disturbing. The violence between Gerald and Gudrun was particularly hard to read.

The characters in WIL are completely self-absorbed and selfish. The utter selfishness was the hardest part for me to read. Particularly since the characters were all redefining marriage and how relationships should work. If you ask me, selfLESSness should be at the forefront of any relationship or marriage. How could they spend their lives together without taking a minute to appreciate their counterparts' needs and desires? It was infuriating. If I took anything away from this book, it's that sometimes grad school readings show up in the most random places and that being selfish lands you frozen in the bottom of a cravasse.

Up next: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. I can only hope this is more of a "beach read," but I'm pretty sure any book taking place in a slum with bad men seducing young girls is not a beach read!

Thirty-Six Years

2011-08-16T10:24:00.001-04:00

Today is my parents' thirty-sixth wedding anniversary. They met nearly forty years ago, and were married on a hot August day four years later. It's been (mostly) happily ever after since then. My parents have always shown me and my three siblings so much love. Love for each other. Love for us.

They didn't get too many pictures at their wedding (don't gey my mom started on their photographer!), but I love how this one:

Is so similar to this one taken three years ago at the same (though renovated) church:

You can see the same boat-ribbed ceiling of the church in both pictures. Even after the renovation, they kept the spirit of the original design very much alive. I also love the 70's sleeves on my mother's dress! Classic!

This was posted in honor of my parents' anniversary in conjunction with "Down the Aisle" over at Mommy of a Monster & Twins!

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Nothing Missed

2011-08-12T13:25:00.001-04:00

For a while now, I've been obsessed with replacing the family room rug. I hate the one in there now. It's old, dingy, and has never matched anything in that hodge-podge room. When I get stressed, I become increasingly obsessed with replacing the damn rug. It's got to go.

I was a bit stressed yesterday. My husband's family was dealing with yet another stupid crisis (not serious, no worries), which meant my MIL had to rush home in the middle of the day yesterday, taking Laura with her. When I arrived home after work I found a series of half-finished chores waiting for me to finish. The biggest of these was the alphabet floor mat, all neatly piled in the sink for washing.

I looked at the pile. I looked at my family room, currently devoid of the primary colored alphabet. I marveled over the beautiful honey-colored wood floors around the perimeter of the room, hidden from sight for nearly a year now. I looked at the pile again and made my decision. The mat is gone. I cleaned each tile and carefully tucked the bunch away in the basement for some future purpose.

Suddenly, I see my family room in a new light. It's a large space with plenty of room for toys, play and family. The rug is still hideous, but it serves as a soft cushion for tea parties and puzzles. I still want to replace it, someday. But for now, I'm just happy to leave it alone.

I Told You So

2011-08-11T11:43:00.000-04:00

Four words. They feel so good to say... and do absolutely nothing to help any situation. I can't think of a time in my life when saying, "I told you so!" ever did anything but inspire bitterness. But I'm sitting here at my desk at work, having just gotten off the phone with my mother-in-law and all I can think to say is, "I told you so."

I just knew it. I knew from the first moment I heard that she was lending her car to my BIL's trainwreck of a girlfriend that it was a bad idea.

I just knew if. I know from the first time I met my BIL's trainwreck of a girlfriend that she was a bad idea.

But what good would it do for me to say that? To tell them that I knew all along that disaster was coming? Nothing. I would isolate myself from them, when what they really need is a little support. A little bit of "OMG that sucks but we'll get through it." I'm already an outsider to their family. Telling them what I really think? Would not help anything.

Which is why I'm just keeping my damn mouth shut. If I can't say anything nice, I won't say anything at all. And they wonder why I'm such a quiet person.

Potty Pooper

2011-08-10T08:40:00.000-04:00

Yes. I'm about to talk about my daughter going to the bathroom. I'm looking for advice, so please offer it if you can. And if you don't want to read? You are excused!

For several months now, Laura has shown signs of interest in potty training. It all started when, at just over a year old, she would pee all over the bathmat every single time I got her diaper off for bathtime. So we bought her a little potty to stick her on as the tub filled with sudsy water - with much success! We would often lift Laura into the tub to see the little puddle left behind. Cue much praise.

So lately, Laura has been grabbing the front of her diaper and hopping in front of us to get our attention. If we fail to respond, she walks to an isolated corner, still holding her diaper, and squats down. We've made it to the actual potty a few times, but mostly she tells us too late and isn't sure what "Can you hold it?" really means.

Nate and I are looking to get more serious about this whole potty training thing... BUT. We have no clue what to do - especially at such a young age! I never thought I'd be asking for advice on this subject at EIGHTEEN MONTHS OLD. But here I am.

Have any of you potty trained early? How'd it go? Did you use a specific method? Any and all recommendations are welcome!

Why shouldn't you tell a secret on a farm?

2011-08-09T10:30:00.000-04:00

Because the potatoes have eyes and the corn have ears!

I am a sucker for a corny joke. Get it?!

Sorry, but I couldn't resist a bad joke with this goofy picture of Laura eating corn on the cob for the first time last night! When I first gave the cob to Laura, she looked at me like I had eight, crazy heads. What was she supposed to do with it? So I demonstrated with loud Cookie Monster nom-nom-nom noises and got the cob positioned correctly in Laura's hands. Laura picked it right up from there! Complete with loud Cookie Monster nom-nom-nom noises.

Sometimes I worry about Laura's eating. That she's not eating enough. Or she's not eating enough of the "right" things. I worry that her diet isn't balanced at all, unless all those circus animal crackers in her tummy are doing some sort of unseen balancing act in there. Somedays Laura refuses to eat pretty much anything, and I just have to toss my hands up in the air and call it quits.

Then there are the days, like last night, where I hear "Moh! Moh!" every five minutes. Where she eats an entire ear of corn + an entire og og (hot dog) + a whole steamed carrot + an entire snack bag of goldfish, which she earned for being such a good eater at dinner. Those days astound me - where is all that food fitting in her tiny little body?! But they also remind me that Laura is a toddler. She'll eat when she's hungry. As long as I offer healthy options, Laura will eat what her body needs most. And no matter what she eats, she's still my tasty little morsel of toddler with that bend at the back of her neck that I bury my face in to kiss every night.

Ms. CrankyPants

2011-08-08T09:01:00.000-04:00

Laura was cranky this weekend. Which made me cranky. At least, that is how I see it. As Nate sees it, I was the cranky one, which made Laura cranky. Apparently she "reflects my moods" or some crap. Nate's probably right, since he's a victim of our combined crankiness and can probably tell who was cranky first.

I took out my crankiness on a dozen (homemade!) chocolate chip cookies. Oh, and Nate. And some more cookies. And then Nate again. After yelling at him, again, Nate put me in a time out. Up in our room, by myself, until I was ready to be pleasant again. I was supposed to be napping, but I was reading instead. This is oddly reminiscent of my childhood. Sometimes I wonder if Nate and my mother are secretly in league with one another.

But at least the cookies were good.

Plumbing

2011-08-05T13:30:00.000-04:00

I stepped in a puddle of water on Tuesday night, right in front of the dish rack. I figured I had been a tad sloppy washing the pots and pans, so I just threw a dish towel onto it and walked away. When I stepped on the same spot and felt a cold, wet towel under my toes on Wednesday night, I decided to check out the problem. A great big puddle on the floor, coming from the sink cabinet. Great. The entire floor of the cabinet was sopping wet and warped. Water everywhere. I found a (working) flashlight and turned on the tap to find the link. Even better: the drain pipe. So the water wasn't even clean! EWWW!

The Culprit: A cracked seal

I called my dad to make sure I could consider this problem a not-emergency, since emergency plumbers are EXPENSIVE. He concurred. Keep the sink use to a minimum, avoid running the dishwasher, and the leak should be contained. I posted a photo of the problem in Facebook, to share my woes... and came back to 15 comments from friends advising how I could fix it myself!

I planned on fixing the pipe after work yesterday, but when I got home from work my father-in-law was under the sink, wrench in hand!! I have never been so happy to see that man. I didn't have to do anything! Laura tried to help out a little while I basked in not doing a darn thing.

Don't worry, Laura has a flashlight!

Laura micromanaging the job

Laura checking out the finished product

The sink is good as new, and I can wash dishes again. Yay! Er, wait a minute.

You know how weather sometimes reflects your mood?

2011-08-03T09:18:00.000-04:00

I wasn't going to have a good day today, no matter what. Nate and I had a serious conversation about work and money last night that left me feeling more than a little attacked. Yes, I charged thousands of dollars to a Sallie Mae account to get my degree - and now I owe all those thousands back. No, I did not get a raise at work for earning my degree. No, there isn't room for me to get promoted at my current job. No, a raise isn't at all realistic. No, I don't have a spare nickel to show for myself at the end of the month. Yes, I am really freaking worried about this.
I couldn't sleep last night. I was overtired and had a cookie (or three) too close to bedtime. My skin felt all prickly and odd, like I had a rash or something. After tossing and turning, I took a Benadryl to help me fall asleep. I slept fitfully after that, and was not amused when Nate thought he could allay my worries from last night with a little intimacy.

I might have been a little rude. So now I'm worried, tired, and on the shit-list with the husband. The original outfit I put on was too tight and gave me a tummy ache of bloat and over-heatedness. And as I started walking to the train the skies opened, soaking me with rain. It seems fitting that I should be sitting in a cold, wet, cotton dress at work right now. It's a dark and stormy day here. I'm waiting for the rainbow.

Drama Queen

2011-08-02T15:34:00.000-04:00

Did I ever show you this picture? It was taken way back in May at my SIL's house. Apparently, her low-to-the-ground coffee table really brings out the drama queen in Laura. Yep, she's paired a romper with Uggs, as I'm sure some reality star has done recently.

May 27, 2011

Because here is Laura now sitting on the same coffee table, showing off her toenail polish, with the most dramatic teenage-girl look she could muster. If I weren't laughing so hard, I would cry.

July 23, 2011

I am already worried for the teen years. At this rate, they are right around the corner!

If I'm on your flight, run away.

2011-08-01T10:36:00.000-04:00

If you ever see me in an airport, start following me to my gate to make sure I'm on a different flight than you. And if you are unfortunate enough to be on my flight, hop over to Customer Service and get yourself on stand-by for a different one. You don't want to fly with me.

Two weeks ago, my flight up North was so delayed (and I was so tired of lugging a toddler and "carry-ons" around the terminal) I had Nate pick me up so I could get on a flight the next morning instead. Which did take off without a hitch except for the ungodly hour of the flight. Which is itself was a hitch. Coming home? Laura and I were so delayed, we took ourselves to the bar to wait it out.

This past weekend, I was so sure of a smooth flight: we had Nate with us! Naught could go wrong! We got to our gate, at the way far end of the terminal. The flight was showing on time. We parked ourselves and let Laura roam. Then the PA system announced a gate change: we had to move all the way to the gate nearest security. So we schlepped ourselves back up to Gate 3. No problem. The plane was there and was showing on time. But how could a flight of mine be on time?

Mechanical issues. Two hour delay. Before they even finished the announcement, I looked at Nate and said, "I GOT THIS," and ran to customer service to get on stand-by for the next flight North. I was first in line, with forty-five other travelers behind me. I walk really fast.

So with some extra time to spare, Nate and I moved back to the very far end of the terminal to the THIRD gate, and sat at the bar. Where Laura fell off a chair. Onto the tile floor. Face first. There was blood. Thankfully, she just bit her lip and everything else was fine. But it was just typical of my flying experiences. We finished our beers and hauled our stuff over to the gate for boarding.

"Excuse me, but have they begun calling stand-by passengers yet? Oh, you already called us? [sad trombone] Wait, you can still squeeze us on?! WE LOVE YOU!" So we got up to Boston without (further) delay.

And then my dad got lost driving up to the reunion/funeral. Because everyone has a funeral months later in the middle of a reunion, right? Oh, just us. But we were lost, and it was all because I was in the car, tempting the fates of the travel gods.

Last night, I could hardly believe it: our flight was on time. I refused to call anyone to let them know we were at the gate because I didn't want to jinx it. We boarded on time. We pushed back on time. OMG WE TOOK OFF ON TIME!

And then Laura became that baby on the plane started screaming.

I'll be sure to warn you the next time I'm heading towards the airport so you can be sure to avoid me.

Slinging Cake

2011-07-28T09:14:00.001-04:00

In the last four years, Nate and I have been to fourteen weddings for friends and family. Fourteen beginnings for fourteen new families. Each wedding has been lovely and beautiful. Each has been a testament to the personality of the couple getting married. All of the weddings have been filled with joy and love.

Whenever I reflect on how much fun Nate and I had at a wedding, I always feel bad for the other couple. Their wedding just wasn't as fun or perfect or love-filled as our wedding. Sorry friends, you just don't even compare. Nate and I had the perfect wedding. Four years ago today, we woke up on the hottest day of the summer, put on copius amounts of clothing, and professed our love the best way we know how. By slinging cake at each other.

Oh yes. We were that couple. All covered in cake. But can you blame us? That cake was freaking delicious!

I can do this!

2011-07-27T21:10:00.000-04:00

You know those irrational fears you have as a mom? Those ones where you won't be a fun enough mom, or crafty enough? Those fears where other moms will totally show you up at the science fair (because let's be honest the moms are totally in charge)? Those fears where you will be the mom to experience stage fright in front of a room full of kids?

After today, I worry for my craft and social skills no longer. My children are safe. They have a mom who can create a paper bag puppet without mumbling like a moron in front of a crowd.

I made nearly 150 paper bag puppets today. With nearly 150 children between the ages of 2 1/2 and 85. No seriously. Eighty-five. That woman was young at heart. Was it chaotic? Totally. Was I covered in marker and glue? Indescribably so. Was it awesome? OMG YEAH!

I connected with a group of kids today. I talked TO them without feeling like I was talking down to them. I felt confident in helping those kids when they needed a hint. I felt confident in asking kids to please wait their turn, without feeling bossy. And dammit if I didn't rock the socks off those paper bag puppets! Best puppets ever!

So all my fears about being an awkward mom, unable to craft or talk to my kids' friends, have completely flown out the window. I can do crafts! I can talk to kids without seeming creepy! And the lack of creepy is a very important thing, my friends. Very important. I am going to totally rock this whole "mom" thing.

Summer of Classics: Ivanhoe

2011-07-26T16:03:00.000-04:00

Ivanhoe. What a book! I have read some dense stuff in my time (Tolstoy, Dickens, all of the Bronte's, Seuss), and nothing comes close to Ivanhoe.

The back of my copy (because we all scour the back for details, right?) claims that the author, Sir Walter Scott, is "the father of the historical novel." He had to have earned that "sir" somehow! But truly, this really did read like something ground-breaking. As if no other novel had existed before Ivanhoe. It was published in 1819 (long, long ago), and takes place during the Crusades (long, long, LONG ago). So the book is written in a very Old English form (thou dost!) from a very Georgian Era standpoint. Which means I sometimes had difficulty digesting the actual language.

My difficulty in actually reading the book did not detract from my enjoyment of the plot. Ivanhoe is another action-adventure book on my Summer of Classics book list. But this one was so chivalrous. Which makes sense, since the main characters are knights in shining armor rescuing damsels in distress. Many characters are in disguise. All of them are memorable. Hi there, Friar Tuck! Why hello, Robin Hood!

My favorite characters (who I feel should be the ones listed as "hero" on the back cover) were the Jester and the Swineherd. Loved them. They opened the story, set me up for the adventure. They were present at all the most important parts. They saved the stated hero on numerous occasions. And they were fun. I loved them.

I was also really impressed with the female characters. All two of them. I might be alone in this, since they did tend to wait around for the men. And yet. Let's look at the book: written in 1819 about the Crusades. Women back couldn't really be strong. They sorta had to wait around for the men. So while their plots revolved around marriage and rescue, they were very strong, independent-minded women. Women who did not lay themselves down at the feet of their oppressors. Women who had the strength to protect their feminine virtues as much as they could. I loved watching their characters grow.

So, Ivanhoe was a very difficult book. I wouldn't rush out and recommend it to just anyone. But if you are looking for a challenge, something to really slow you down and make you work, pick this up. It's poetic, beautiful, hilarious, exciting, and memorable. But don't take my word for it!

Addiction

2011-07-25T10:35:00.000-04:00

I'm sure you have heard the news about Amy Winehouse. If you haven't, well, she died of a drug overdose this weekend. It's truly sad, but not surprising. Which might be the saddest part of it all. She died from addiction, and no one is surprised because we all saw that one coming just around the bend.

I wasn't overly phased by the news on Saturday. I'm not a huge fan of her music, and I'm certainly not a fan of the public persona she had adopted. But more importantly, I was preoccupied on Saturday with more important, better things. My husband's cousin was getting married. I was adding another in-law to my little club of outsiders, of which I was the sole member for the longest time (four years on Thursday!!). My club added it's second member a mere eight weeks ago, and now here we are a club of three! I love my cousin-in-law, and am so excited for his new wife - a wonderful young woman, who obviously adores her new husband and puts up with all the rest of us.

Melissa puts up with the rest of us. My husband's family is a lot to take in. They are inclined to drink to excess. Beyond excess. They are inclined to drink to oblivion. This family can be difficult to be around. As the drama and emotions begin to spill over, as the wine begins to flow with reckless abandon. As loving as they each are, they are overwhelming, emotional and dramatic. It is a drama that enters your veins and, like poison, slowly takes over rational thought. Drama feeds on drama, and in this family the drama is well fed, its thirst well satiated.

Russell Brand wrote a beautiful and moving article, reflecting on the passing of Amy Winehouse, as well as his relationship with addiction:
"Not all of us know someone with the incredible talent that Amy had but we all know drunks and junkies and they all need help and the help is out there."
We all know drunks and junkies. We all do. I do.

Amy Winehouse touched the lives of so many, who put up with her antics. I'm sure she had loved ones who tried to make her go to rehab (and she said, "No, no, no!"). I'm sure she had loved ones who tried to reach out to her, to keep her safe. And I'm sure she had loved ones who were simply too tired to try any longer.

I watched this weekend as a lovely wedding and reception turned into a raucous after-party. Full of emotion. Full of drama. More drama than should be invited to a wedding. I wish I could say that I didn't, in some way, add to the drama. I did. I wasn't the worst culprit, but there I was making a scene. Over something as stupid as pizza.

I love my husband's family. They are my family. And I worry about them. I worry for their health. I worry for my relationship with them. I worry for Laura's relationship with them. I heard about Amy Winehouse and was not surprised. Then I read Russell's beautiful words and felt tears well in my eyes. How much can I do for Nate's family? How much can I do for myself?

"We have lost a beautiful and talented woman to [addiction]. Not all addicts have Amy's incredible talent. Or Kurt's or Jimi's or Janis's. Some people just get the affliction. All we can do is adapt the way we view this condition, not as a crime or a romantic affectation but as a disease that will kill."
-R.Brand

Fluff Friday

2011-07-22T08:25:00.000-04:00

I hear that my generation is very nostalgic. Already. This is why all things childhood are so popular right now. Have you seen the craze for cupcakes at bakeries across the country? Even Sesame Street has been running classic clips in their latest episodes. And did you hear that Nickelodeon is bringing back Clarissa Explains It All? Oh yes they are! I am over the moon about this. And it's not just Clarissa - my old friend Doug Funny is coming back too! Anyone else want to be Patty Mayonnaise when they were in middle school?

Speaking of mayonnaise and nostalgia... I went through a phase as a toddler where I was really into Peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches. My mom swears they are really tasty with sprouts on them. To that I say, "Pass me the fluff!"

My coworkers and I were talking about the wonders of the fluffernutter sandwich at lunch yesterday (as we all munched healthy, grown-up food much to our dismay). One of the interns sitting with us is Canadian - and had never heard of fluff. Whoa. My desires to move to Canada for free health care have been quashed in a single blow. So when I happened to pass by a display of Fluff when I was running errands last night, I bought some on behalf of our poor, deprived, Canadian intern.

And then, when I turned the jar around to muse nostalgic on the familiar glass jar, I saw The Recipe: Never Fail Fudge. The most delicious chocolate creation of my fondest childhood memories.

For a better view of this recipe, please visit my cooking site!
Mrs. MidAtlantic Cooks

Dear Mom, I may disagree with you on the PB&Mayo&Sprouts sandwich, but thank you from the bottom of my heart for the thousands of pounds of fudge you kept in my tummy. Much Love, C

The Art of Seduction

2011-07-20T09:50:00.000-04:00

Last night as I was playing Angry Birds while Nate watched reruns of LOST on Netflix, I suddenly remembered that I'm supposed to be baby-obsessed, and wouldn't it be nice to have some physical contact with my husband while the baby was in bed. We may have been in the same room, but we could have been on separate planets for all the interaction that was going on between the bird flinging and the... whatever LOST actually turned out to be.

I put the G-D birds down. I ignored the plight of the secret hidden papayas I was trying to bust out of crates. And I hobbled over to my husband, who was practically drooling while mindlessly staring at the TV. I say hobbled because my shinsplints are killing me and I read somewhere that an ankle brace can help. So I was sporting the sexiest outfit ever seen: Cargo capris (?), a t-shirt, and an ankle brace.

Like a sultry movie star from days of yore, I put the bad leg up on Nate's knee and sexily tore off the ankle brace. He looked up at me like I was insane. So I said, "What, don't you want somma THIS!" He said, "The ankle brace strip tease really doesn't do it for me." Apparently the bend-and-snap move I learned in Legally Blonde doesn't actually work. And since I'm lazy, I quit trying to seduce my husband shortly after that.

You know how some women can turn a man on like flipping a light switch? I'm not one of them. I guess that's why I spend so much time sitting in the dark. Pass me those irate birds - I have some pigs to kill.

Ok, Am I Obsessed?

2011-07-19T14:16:00.000-04:00

I started blogging a little over two years ago, because I needed an outlet for the baby-crazy in my head. It was going to be a TTC thing, until I was lucky enough to get pregnant. Which happened like two seconds later. Which is probably a good thing, because I would have been A-N-N-O-Y-I-N-G to the max. I was full on obsessed that first go-round. I temped before I was even off birth control, because that made sense (not). I read up on when, how often, what positions. Which meant, for me, often and however.

This time... I had originally planned on being obsessed this time. I gave myself wiggle room and leeway to be a TTC nut. I'm finding that I'm just not quite so over the top this time (so far). I weaned myself off Zoloft and caffeine. I finished my packet of pills. I've been taking prenatal vitamins for two months. I reminded myself of my Fertility Friend log-in information. I attempted to find my basal thermometer.

There I stopped. I haven't done anything on Fertility Friend. I never did find that thermometer. I think perhaps I'm a little gun-shy. It's hard to think of starting all over again with a newborn and the crying and the sleepless nights and the crying.

But also, I know I have changed a lot in the two years that have passed since I started this little blog. I have found a strength in myself. And I have also found a tiny bit of faith. I hear there's this cool guy upstairs looking out for us. He's always dishing out only what we can handle. He'll let me get pregnant on his own time, when things are meant to work out. I have faith in that. Why shouldn't I? Everything else has always worked out, in whatever way, for the best.

So this time, I'm not obsessed. I'm not temping or tracking or attempting awkward positions. I'm not constantly googling. I'm just letting things go with the flow. I'm totally cool and relaxed. I'm a normal human being, who just happens to be off the pill while enjoying relations with her husband. I even bought a brand new box of tampons for next month when I'll need them. So I can jinx the need. Totally normal. Not obsessed. Nope, not me. And clearly, anyone who is not obsessed blogs all about it. That's a totally normal, not-obsessed sort of thing to do.

I'm not obsessed. Right?

New Shoes, Feeling Sexy

2011-07-18T13:42:00.000-04:00

If you read my post last Monday, I'm sure you could see that I... wasn't in the best place. I'd eaten way more ice cream than anyone ever should - especially when that someone is lactose intolerant. Cue: bloat. None of my pants fit and I did not feel sexy at all. Which completely goes against my New Year's Resolution of feeling sexy. I didn't want to put numbers on a weight loss, or even a specific target of working out __ days a week or limiting calories to __ a day. I just wanted to do what I had to do to feel sexy. So after last Monday's glum post I needed to change.

I went to the gym three days last week. Three days is the maximum I can go in the mornings before work, due to day care drop-off duties. Three days is not a number I have hit recently. I can't remember what I did on Tuesday, not a great work-out, but I was there. Showing up is half the battle. I did bootcame on Thursday - love it. It's so motivating, and the trainer I do it with is great at molding the class to the people who show up. I felt so motivated after Thursday's workout that I ran - outside - with no one chasing me - on Friday, for FOUR miles!

I ran four miles. In a row. Without stopping. Pride is sexy.

And then I could barely move the rest of the day because my shin splints are so bad. They still killed Saturday. So yesterday, Sunday, I got up, went to the specialty running store, and got fitted for shoes. If you have never been fitted for a pair of running shoes, drop everything, throw out your current shoes, and go. It is completely worth the 20 minutes it takes to be matched to your ideal shoe. There is no charge for the session, and the shoes prices are no higher than any crap sports chain. I go to my area Fleet Feet; this is a reputable franchise around the country, with great service and selection. I have a new pair of running shoes, and my shins are thanking me.

I can't wait to go for a run tomorrow morning!

Vlog Talk: Baby Monitors

2011-07-17T14:28:00.001-04:00

So I look ridiculous and the lighting is bad, but it doesn't matter. The real star of this vlog is Laura!
I'm vlogging today with the Vlog Talk meme, with the WILDCARD! prompt: I'm going with the June 30 prompt, what I'm obsessed with right now. Enjoy!

YouTube Video

PS- I couldn't figure out how to post this on Saturday, so happy Sunday instead!

Tubby Little Cubby

2011-07-15T22:36:00.000-04:00

We took Laura to see her first movie today. I'm not sure how much she truly enjoyed the movie experience, but I L-O-V-E-D, loved, LOVED the newest Winnie the Pooh!

I can't remember the last time I was so excited to see a movie that I trudged out to the theatre on opening day. Let's keep in mind, also, that I go to the movies maybe once a year. So Winnie the Pooh was a big deal for me.

I wasn't actually all that into going to the newest Pooh movie until just this week, when I took the time to watch some trailers. The trailers had me in stitches, and I was so impressed with the hand-drawn animation that I was dead-set on seeing the movie as soon as possible.

I met Laura (with my mother-in-law) at the theatre this afternoon for a 5:05 showing. We settled into our seats and plied Laura with snacks. From the opening sequence, I was laughing, smiling, and having a great time. Which is mpressive, since I had a toddler crawling all over me the entire time.

I was really impressed with the clever animation, which highlighted letters and words in the font I remember so fondly from my childhood copies of the books. Pooh and his friends literally walk across pages and paragraphs, as the narrator reads the words shown on the screen. So simple, but it really made the connection between the original books and the animated feature.

At one point, a little girl next to us screamed with fright when the Backson loomed out of the woods. But she was laughing hysterically soon after. The movie is very appropriately rated G. It was also the perfect length for a family outing. Just as I was thinking "gee, now would be a great time to wrap this up so my toddler can let out some of her energy on something other than me," the movie ended! In a most satisfying manner! With no creepy woosels or heffulumps or anything!

My favorite part was the... everything. Laura's favorite part was the sequence with Pooh swimming through the honey. Seriously. And I know this because she was suddenly completely still, snack free, and staring with rapt attention at the screen for the entire scene. And once that part ended, Laura was back to her snacking, flailing ways. Which was perfectly fine! I expected nothing less, taking an eighteen-month-old to the movies!

If you are thinking of seeing Winnie the Pooh, please do! And if you were thinking you'd see HP7 instead, see both! WtP is definitely worth the movie ticket!

2011-07-14T14:27:00.000-04:00

I know I'm not the first person to blog about Pinterest, nor will I be the last. However, you won't see me on Pinterest. Me, meaning Mrs. MidAtlantic. Because I am certainly pinning away.

A few months ago, I started to have an identity crisis. Am I the blogger who calls herself Mrs. MidAtlantic, or am I a real person with a real family. My family and friends don't know about the blog (with a very few exceptions). My blog readers don't know who I am. I have two (actually four, with the recipes) blogs under two emails. I have two facebook accounts. Only one of me twitters, and that with great infrequency. With two identities, sometimes I confuse myself as to who I truly am.

So when I scored an invite to Pinterest, I signed up using my real name. I talk about pinning with my mom and sister-in-law, whose boards I follow. When I pin something, my IRL friends see it on FB. It's refreshing for me to have something real that I can share outside of the internet. It's fun for me to pin a cute baby toy or Christmas ornament, and show it to my mom. It's fun - and completely neccessary - for me to realize that I exist outside of a nom de plume.

I love being Mrs. MidAtlantic. But I also love being me. So I might check out one or two of your pins, as you choose to post them through the magic that is the internet. But you won't see mine. Not here, at least!

Resemblance

2011-07-12T10:16:00.001-04:00

Am I the only mom who worries that her child doesn't look like her? Laura looks a lot like her daddy. Who looks almost identical to his dad, his four siblings, and his four paternal cousins. There are some strong genes on that side. And while I think Nate is HOT, I also want my children to bare at least some passing resemblance to me.

It doesn't matter too much. Kid could look like the milkman, and she'd still be adorable! I'm glad she's not the milkman's kid. That would be awk-ward.

Woah, Mom.
Did you just compare me to the milkman?

My mom and dad were able to take some really adorable pictures of Laura this weekend. Including one where Laura looks a LOT like I did as a baby:

Left: Me with my big brother, c. 1982/3
Right: Laura c. 2011

See those cheeks and eyes? And THE NOSE?? That nose is all mine! I was really ~~worried~~ curious about the nose, actually... Nate's is just generally big and mine is ridiculously long. But so far that little button looks a lot like mine!

Laura and Mom

So do we look exactly the same? Probably not. But it doesn't matter, because she is super adorable!

I'm not even bringing my B game today

2011-07-11T09:02:00.000-04:00

I am exhausted today. Apparently, I am a travel jinx. Friday night, I met Laura at the airport for our 6pm flight to Boston for my SIL's baby shower in Maine the next day. Our flight was delayed till 7. Then 8:30. Then 9. And when the board was threatening to put an even later number up there, I spoke with customer service, got myself on a flight the next morning, and got Nate to pick us up so I could put my patient toddler to bed.

Saturday morning, we woke up at 4:30 to get to the airport for a 6am flight. I had to negotiate with Nate to drop us at the airport, rather than have me drive, park, take the bus with Laura two bags and a stroller, and then get through security. I won. The flight was fine, but we then spent two and a half hours in the car driving to Maine. A lovely shower with lovely cake, and then another drive back to Boston. Where my dad accidentally drove 20 minutes NORTH instead of south, so 40 minutes out of the way. And meanwhile, Laura decided to be a little constipated and grumpy.

Yesterday, we had a leisurely day of pancakes and petting zoos before heading back to the airport for our 5pm flight. You guessed it! We were delayed! When the man came over the speaker, I started sobbing. In the middle of the crowded terminal. I got myself somewhat put together, gathered Laura and our bags, and shuffled back through security so we could SIT at a restaurant to be served some food. I really wanted a beer. But I also had a raging bloat tummy ache, the shakes from Zoloft withdrawal (cuz I quit it) and a toddler who would NOT stop crawling on me. So I just got a water. And french fries.

We finally got home last night around 9:30, after I may have cried a second time mid-flight when Laura started getting really frustrated with the tight quarters. Traveling is a bitch. Laura went straight to bed, which sounded like a really nice place to be. But I stayed up getting Laura packed for school today.

So it's Monday again. I'm exhausted, cranky, bloated (too much ice cream), twitching like a grasshopper (do they twitch?), and ready to burst into tears. My coworker I hate just got in, after a (beautifully quiet) week off from work. I can't have coffee because the thought of dairy makes me want to hurl, but I can't keep my eyes open. Why did I wear contacts today? Oh yeah, because I'm an idiot.

Morals of this story:
- Get toddler her own seat next time we fly without Daddy.
- Wear glasses when tired.
- Zoloft withdrawal makes me feel like I should be in rehab.
- People who are lactose intolerant should not have ice cream for dinner every day for a week.
- My pants don't fit from the bloat.
- I won't be eating ice cream this week. If I'm smart. Which I'm not.
- I haven't had a drink in over a week. It's like I'm practicing for pregnancy.
- I have two pills left in my packet. And then that's it.
- Prenatal vitamins give me heartburn. This doesn't bode well.
- I'm exhausted.
- I hate my coworker.
- I hate her even more because I can smell her delicious coffee.
- Sometimes I cry in airports.
- I ramble.

Flashback Friday: Little Chef

2011-07-08T09:04:00.000-04:00

My parents started me helping in the kitchen at a very young age. I remember sitting on the kitchen floor with a very important job: poking holes in the baked potatoes before they went in the oven. A crucial step towards baking the perfect potato. I also remember learning to make "Mexican Grilled Cheese" at a point in my life when my mother was too burnt out to cook me one.more.grilled.freaking.cheese since that's all I would eat. (Mexican Grilled Cheese, btw, is just some shredded cheddar on a tortilla and microwaved).

Perhaps my proudest childhood cooking achievement was my Deviled Egg Chickens.

We found this recipe in a children's cookbook that I can't put my finger on right now. These chickens are both adorable and delicious - I still make them for parties! I've added the recipe to Mrs. MidAtlantic Cooks for your eating enjoyment. And now I can't wait to get Laura started in the kitchen, too!

Idea for Flashback Friday stolen borrowed from The Heir to Blair!

Here She Comes

2011-07-07T09:00:00.000-04:00

My little Miss America! Why yes, I did put a picture of me in a bathing suit on the internet. While holding my naked daughter on a very small inner-tube. We're cute! And only slightly blindingly pale.

Bathing Beauties

Laura loves the water. She still can't float on her own, but she can jump in like a big kid!

Kid has no fear. Which makes me terrified.

Laura also loves bubbles (bub-bohs as she calls them). Pretty much, I'm not sure she'd qualify as a normal, healthy toddler if she wasn't completely enthralled by bubbles.

Bub-bohs!

You know what else Laura loves? Fireworks!

Thank goodness too. I'm not sure what I would have done with a kid afraid of fireworks. They are my favoritest thing in the whole world!

Laura is trying to grab the fireworks. I told her they are hot. She blew on them instead.

Happy Independence Day!

The Freezer

2011-07-05T11:51:00.024-04:00

I've been doing a really good job (for me) of planning dinners and writing out - and sticking to! - grocery lists for the past few months. It feels really good going into the week with a plan. And half the time, our plans go awry and I wind up postponing this meal or that. But it's ok, because it's only a plan. (and hint: I only actually plan three to four meals a week anyway, since I just know everything will go haywire by Thursday).

So I sat down to add to my on-going grocery Monday night and made sure I had buns, hamburger, bacon, cheese and bread on the list. Then I decided to peek in the fridge to see what we needed to use up and what could be good for dinner planning. And that's when I started to uncover the hoard.

Plenty of buns, tons of cheese, and two whole loaves of bread. I scratched those off my list. But then I started to wonder: what on earth do I have in the freezer?? So I cleared the counter and dove in. Here's what I found:

Two boxes of popsicles (unopened)
Three sides of bacon
Twelve bags of frozen veggies (various flavors)
Four pounds of hamburger
Eight steaks
Two packages of chicken
Five frozen meals from past freezing kicks
Two gallons of ice cream in flavors we don't like (why?!)
Three tubs of homemade babyfood from last summer
Several freezer-burned frozen hors d'oevres in ziplocs leftover from our Christmas party
Two loaves of garlic bread
Three bags of frozen french fries, in varying states of openess

Um, the freezer was ridiculous. So I completely rewrote my grocery list and reorganized the entire space. Amazingly, there was very little that I felt forced to throw out. I finished one tub of sub-par ice cream and melted the rest (totally crystalized) into the sink. One package of steaks was older than the hills, and the babyfood wasn't worth keeping. I will not be buying any bacon for a while, and I can probably hold off on any veggie or french fry purchases through the summer! And if you're wondering, we'll be having steaks for dinner tonight.

A Monday/Tuesday Potpourri

2011-07-05T11:22:00.000-04:00

I'm all over the place today. Is it Monday? Is it Tuesday? When is it Friday again? Is Laura at school today, or at home with Grandma? Did I go to the gym? Is it lunch time yet? Where am I? Who am I? Does anyone know anything about anything?!

But really, my point is. I'm not sure. Do I have a point? Most Mondays of late, I have completely forgotten to post for McFatty Monday. Well, I didn't eat too very much this weekend, despite the holiday. Scratch that. I had quite a few beers and several ice creams. But I went to the gym today! And I plan to go on Thursday and probably Friday, too! And I looked great in my swimsuits all weekend! And feeling sexy is really all I'm going for here, so I think I count this past week as a win.

What about all those other memes out there? RemembeRED? This week, we are asked to write about a TV show from our past. Here's mine: Gilligan's Island. My mother has abhorred Mr. Rogers since 198-something when he did a week long special on divorce and convinced my older brother that at some point, all mommies and daddies get divorced. My parents will be celebrating their 36th year of marriage in a few weeks, thank you very much. But anyway, this meant that when Mr. Rogers came on after Sesame Street, my mother frantically grabbed for the remote to switch the channel to anything else. That anything happened to be Gilligan's Island. My brother and I l-o-v-e-d all the ridiculous stuff those people made out of coconuts, which turned into endless hours of imaginative play for us at the family's beach house. Is that a beach chair? No! It's a thatched hut! That's not a lobster pot - it's a treasure chest! I thought about how much fun we had playing Gilligan's Island this weekend as I watched Laura splash for hours on end in the pool. I can't wait for her to have siblings and cousins to play with during the summer. Note to self: buy Gilligan's Island on DVD.

Nate, Laura, Ries and I enjoyed a lovely 4th of July, complete with hammock naps, hours in the pool, Coronas, grilling, and fireworks. Lots of fireworks. I hope you had as wonderful a weekend as we did!

I feel like a Corona ad

2011-07-03T16:54:00.001-04:00

My view today:

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

My View

2011-07-02T10:58:00.001-04:00

Is there anything better on a summer day than a hammock and a good book?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Journal

2011-07-01T08:54:00.001-04:00

I sat in the office tying my shoes as Laura fiendishly pulled book after book off the shelves, looking for something. God knows what. Winnie the Pooh was tossed to the left, skidding to a stop against a pile of laundry. Jane Eyre went off to the right, splayed open on the floor. And then Laura grabbed for the journal. A hideous blue denim, spiral-bound journal, bedazzled beyond the point of tacky. The words "Our Journal are written with a childish hand in puffy paint across the front cover. Inside, the lined papers are wrinkled with time, tape, spilled beers, and love. Lots of love.

I met Nate in March 2002 when I was a sophomore in college, struggling at the height of depression and an eating disorder to feel normal. Nate was twenty-three, a year and a half out of college, struggling to make ends meet with a job in sales. When we met, I was already signed up for a four-week trip to Italy over the summer. I had been looking forward to it for months. Looking forward to the food that I was planning to allow myself to eat without shame or guilt. Looking forward to the relaxed schedule of classes, painting in the Italian summer sun. Nate was less than happy about my four-week escape. We were so new to each other - he wanted to keep me to himself all summer. But off to Italy I went, leaving Nate behind to mope. I loved him, but I also couldn't wait for my adventure.

I called Nate from my Italian dorm as soon as I was able to figure out a pay phone:
Hi Hunny, I miss you, are you doing ok? I know you were upset about this trip, but I'm having a fabulous time already!
I miss you so much, baby, but it's ok! I figured out a way to make the four weeks pass in a flash! But it's a surprise. I'll show you when you get home.

Four weeks later, Nate met me at the airport. He rolled my bags out to the car, and presented me with the journal. The horribly tacky journal, already worn and loved. Already half-filled with the most intimate of words. A journal with a letter written to me each day I had been away. A memoir of letters, written with love in the childish handwriting of my future husband.

Bon Appetit!

2011-06-30T09:30:00.000-04:00

If you look just above this post, you will see a little bar with different pages. Are you looking? Great! Some of these pages have been there for a while now and are nothing exciting. Who I am, how to contact me, blah blah blah.

But I have added some great stuff! If you click over to Summer of Classics, you can follow along with my self-~~inflicted~~ -imposed summer reading challenge. I'll keep that tab up to date with my current reading. I'm still trucking away at Ivanhoe, and am really enjoying it so far!

Even more exciting, click over to Mrs. MidAtlantic Cooks! That's right! I finally added all my (typed) recipes for you to enjoy! I'm still working on one little kink (you know, getting you to and from the recipes), but it's all published and ready for your dining pleasure! Comments and suggestions welcomed!

Slow Down!

2011-06-28T10:23:00.000-04:00

Dear Laura,

Please stop growing so fast. You are starting to look - and act! - like a big girl.

Cheeeee!

Love, Mommy

Can We Choose?

2011-06-27T11:21:00.000-04:00

If you have ever googled "trying to conceive," you have seen the bajillion article headings for "trying to conceive a boy" or "trying to conceive a girl." You have seen the Chinese lunar calendars claiming to predict the sex of your baby with 99% accuracy. You have heard about alkaline versus acidic environments for weeding out x- or y-chromosomes, depending on your preference. And you know more than you want to know about old wive's myths and the Shettles Method on positions and timing. But with all these ways of "choosing" the sex of our babies, are we setting ourselves up for disappointment?

Growing up, I was the second child of four, second in line to my older brother. I adored my brother. I worshipped the very ground he walked on. It's no surprise that I met my husband through my older brother and his network of friends. So I always envisioned having a little boy first - an older brother to any siblings that may follow. So I was a little stunned - and a bit disappointed - when we found out we were having a girl first.

Now that Nate and I are trying for a second child, I feel as though there is even more pressure to have a boy, giving us one of each. And any children beyond that would be wonderful surprises, because it wouldn't matter! We'd have at least one of each! So that brings me to choosing the sex.

My "lunar calendar" doesn't predict any boys for me in the next six months. My window to conceive, be pregnant, and take maternity leave does not allow me to wait to conceive based on the lunar calendar. Which just seems insane to me anyway. The Shettles Method would have me eating steak and bananas for the next few months. I'm a cake and coffee girl myself, I don't see myself ensuring an alkaline environment.

And what if I do go out of my way through diet and timing to "ensure" a boy, only to find out at 20 weeks that it's a second girl? A second little girl would be wonderful. We have so much fun with Laura, and it would be so neat to have sisters so close in age. The clothing and bathroom sharing might be a disaster, but their friendship could also be a beautiful thing. I don't want to set myself up for disappointment over something I can't control. It would not be fair to me or the baby. A friend reminded me this weekend: We get what we get, and we don't get upset. I have three weeks left on my pill packet. When I go off, I'm going to just go with the flow. I'm not going crazy with temping, weird positions, red meat, bananas or lunar charts. I don't think I have it in me to care whether we get a boy or a girl - just as long as it's healthy!

Have any of you tried any of the "methods" for choosing one sex over the other? What were your results?

I believe...

2011-06-24T15:07:00.000-04:00

...In wearing sunglasses at night

...That toddlers have the best fashion sense

...And that toddlers have more fun

...In birthday cake for breakfast

...And lunch. And dinner. And dessert.

...That having a little girl nap on your chest, all sweaty and smelling of sunscreen and slides, is the best feeling in the world.

...That every woman deserves a weekend with the girls every now and then. Even if she'll miss her little girl while she's away.

...That a good workout is worth the sore butt the next day. Because then you can eat more birthday cake!

I'm linked up with Mrs. TrophyWife today! What do you believe in?

Bootcamp

2011-06-23T08:45:00.000-04:00

I've been going to the gym fairly regularly for the last six months. My workouts (treadmill for 30, stretching and abs for 15) are getting a little stale, but I've seen results so whatever. Well, today I decided to try out the gym's "bootcamp" group exercise, since my workouts are getting a little stale and all. I thought that after six months of fairly regular exercise, I was in pretty good shape. I'm not.

But here I am, a bootcamp survivor. I was not the slowest in the group. I did not cheat anymore than anyone else in the group. I was just as hot, sweaty and red in the face as everyone else. I survived and you know what? It wasn't not fun!

When the trainer sitting at the desk asked me how the workout was, I legit smiled and said "Not bad!" And when he asked if I'd do it again, I legit smiles and said "Probably!" Am I going to join the group for tomorrow's bootcamp? Not likely. I'll hop on my treadmill and be happy for the a/c. But next Thursday? I think I'll try it again! <--- I'm legit smiling right now!

Summer Reading

2011-06-22T09:23:00.000-04:00

Remember when you were a kid, and you set off from the last day of school with a summer reading list? Pages and pages of wonderful books, asking to be read. Library card in hand, you happily spend lazy summer afternoons with a book in one hand and an ice cream sandwich in the other.

Maybe that was just me.

So far, I have found that the worst part of being a working adult is summer. What do you mean I don't get summer vacation? What do you mean I have to spend the sunniest, laziest days sitting in a fluorescent chamber of boredom and deadlines? What do you mean I don't get a summer reading list and hours of freedom to spend reading?

Well, this summer I have decided to make my own reading list - The Summer of Classics. I'm making my own time to spend reading. Instead of lazing on the couch watching mindless TV after work/dinner/housework, I'll be lazing on the couch reading one classic after another. That's right, I'm focusing on the classics. No fluffy novels about shopping or engagement rings for me! Only the truly good stuff. And I'm off to a great start.

Back in March (I know, not exactly summer, but bear with me), I read T. H. White's The Once and Future King. This is a book that my father read aloud to us as children. Except that the last time he read it aloud to me, I was three or four, and didn't really pay attention. So I finally reread it, and am so glad I did. I think, truly, that reading about King Arthur's humble beginnings back in March is what inspired my Summer of Classics. You can read a little of what I thought about The Once and Future King here. It's a fun read, and definitely a great read-aloud for elementary schoolers (well, at least the first book)!

So then in May I began my Summer of Classics in earnest. I picked up a copy of Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Christo. I had read The Three Musketeers back in high school (summer reading list FTW!), loved the adventure, and wanted to read more of Dumas. Monte Christo did not disappoint! I was completely involved in the adventure, intrigue, treasure, plotting and revenge. I couldn't put it down. I loved it so much, I was sad to see it end. So sad, I actually read the essay so neatly included at the front of the book. Fabulous.

Next up, Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Books. Loved. I can't wait to read these aloud to Laura - and sooner rather than later. Each chapter is actually a stand alone story. And while most of these stories follow our friend Mowgli, none are in chronological order. These books could truly be read to a small child, as they are filled with beautiful descriptions of the jungles of India (and the Arctic. And the polar ice cap.) and have great morals as to survival, manners, not talking to strangers, etc. I am left hoping to read more Kipling in the course of the Summer of Classics.

This morning, I finished the fourth book on my list: The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy. What a fun action adventure comedy of errors! This was recommended by a coworker who promptly leant me her copy the next day. She proclaimed it to be her second favorite book, and leant me along with it her first favorite, which I will be reading next. Reading the description on the back cover, I was skeptical. It looked somewhat overly dramatic, but I gave it a whirl. And was totally surprised by the sheer comedy of it! This was a fun, light-hearted read, and perfect for the Summer of Classics. I'm four books in, and having a lot of fun. My biggest challenge so far is actually getting my greedy paws on the books being recommended to me. It might be time to hit up the local library.

Do you have a favorite classic? Tell me what it is and why you love it!

When Cows Attack

2011-06-21T08:42:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I told you a little story of how I let Laura get knocked over by Norman the Calf. And then a few minutes later, a friend forwarded me this Story:
Woman Dead After Cow Attack
And suddenly, I am looking like the worst mom on the planet for (a) placing my daughter that close to a cow's hooves and (b) opting to snap a picture rather than scoop her up.

But just look at this face! Look at those big, sad, brown eyes! How could anyone suspect Norman of attempted infanticide? He's just looks too sweet to hurt a fly!

It's always the quiet ones

Amazing, the timeliness of that Huffington Post article!

I let my daughter get hip-checked by a cow

2011-06-20T10:32:00.000-04:00

We had a fabulous weekend, leaving the sizzling MidAtlantic region in favor of our roots: New England. Most of my family has remained true to the England of New, living in Massachusetts and Maine. Only my younger brother and myself decided to brave the more southernly regions of New Jersey and Maryland. We planned a trip to Maine a few months ago, and then watched in horror as the weather forecast for our weekend described rain, rain and more rain. So we were pleasantly surprised to enjoy two and a half days of sunshine!

We made much use of the beautiful weather by mostly sitting by my older brother's pool. Yeah, I wondered why anyone in Maine would have a pool... till I had a chance to sit by it. Heaven! But we did leave the pool for a few excursions. We took Laura to a nearby petting farm, where we got to see a brand new, eight-week-old baby calf. So cute! He looks just like Norman in "City Slickers," so obviously I loved him. Just as I was posing Laura for an adorable photo shoot, Norman decided he was done with us: he hip-checked Laura out of the way. And even as I saw this about to happen, I readied the camera for a shot of the carnage, rather than swooping in to save my daughter from hooves. Don't worry: I got the photo and Laura was not trampled.

No babies were harmed in the taking of this photo.

My wonderful sister-in-law baked a delicious cake (yellow with chocolate!) in honor of my birthday. Happy birthday to meeeee! Which of course warrants a carving knife and crazy eyes.

Step back! I have a knife!

We also got to test drive the most awesomest stroller on the planet, The Bob. My brother and SIL are expecting a happy bundle at the end of summer. They recently received their coveted Bob, and were eager to take it for a spin. Laura, lover of all things stroller, was happy to oblige. Judging by the three-mile nap she took, I think she approved of Bob.

Bob is good to baby.

So the moral of this story is: I want a pool, a calf named Norman, and a Bob. And I crazy-eye love cake.

There is no charge for awesomeness

2011-06-17T09:24:00.000-04:00

Well, no charge except for the $13.25 admission to see said awesomeness on the big screen. Remember when Kung Fu Panda came out and it was awesome and our favoritest movie? And then remember when Kung Fu Panda 2 came out and it was just as awesome??

Nate and I went on a date last night to celebrate my 29th birthday. He asked what I wanted to do, and I said "something awesome," which translated to going to the movies for the first time in TWO years, which meant a small (but worthy) charge for awesomeness.

Kung Fu Panda 2 did not disappoint. In any way.

While not quite as quotable as the first KFP movie, KFP2 kept us entertained and laughing through the entire 91 minutes. You hear that? Ninety-one awesome minutes - not a minute too long or too short. You hear that, Hollywood?! Ninety-one minutes of awesomeness!

KFP2 had a lovely story with a beautiful moral and ending. And even more beautiful than the story was the animation. Wow. The sweeping landscapes pictured in the movie made me want to go to China, they were that gorgeous. The 3D animation has come a long way too. Nate and I were highly impressed by the realistic animation that came out of the screen towards us. The bad guy was one of the creepiest (and peacockiest) I have ever seen - well done. And the heroes were even more heroic than ever. And the comedy? Hilarious. I particularly enjoyed the Chinese dragon that "ate" and then "pooped" the bad guys. Who were hilariously evil!

Nate and I decided over a beer after the movie that instead of replacing our missing copy of KFP right away, we will wait for the KFP/KFP2 two-pack that is sure to be released in a few months. This is definitely a movie that we will be happy to watch over and over (and over) again with Laura. If you are looking for a way to celebrate the dads in your life this weekend, take them to KFP2. I'm not gonna tell you the ending, but it will have dads feeling mushy and loved all over.

The Difference

2011-06-14T15:19:00.000-04:00

Just out of curiousity, I peeked back through the archives to see what I was writing about a year ago. I was in a very different place a year ago, struggling to bond with my daughter. I don't believe in coincidences, because they are usually far too poignant to just be happy accidents. I peeked back through the archives and read the post I wrote on June 14, 2010, Faking It. In it, I wrote:

I hate lying through my teeth to every person I meet. I would love for once to just say, "You know what, I am having a hard time feeling any attachment to my baby. Please stop gushing over how easy it must be to love her."

What a difference a year makes. I stand here today, June 14, 2011, a far happier person. I love my family. I ache to get home at night. I look forward to playing with Laura until bedtime. I often push bedtime back as late as possible, since we are having so much fun. This year when people ask me about motherhood, I tell them with complete honesty that I love being a mother, and that I can't imagine my life without Laura.

A year ago, if someone had asked me about a plan for a second child, I would have felt a tightening in my chest, as the mere thought of another baby and more responsibility would send me into spasms of hatred, nausea and fear. This year, I am excitedly counting down the days till I hit the last pill in the packet. In twenty-eight days, Nate and I will start to try for another baby. In twenty-eight days, we will hope the stars align so we can make a baby brother or sister for Laura.

Today, June 14, 2011, I look at my family and see a wonderful haven of love and honesty. But I also see a vacancy, a position to be filled. We are meant to add a fourth member to our family. We are happy now, but we are not complete. Last year, I was a shell of a person, desperately searching for my most basic self. This year, I know who I am, and am searching to add more. What a difference a year makes.

A Good Mom Day

2011-06-13T21:34:00.000-04:00

I was in a great mood all day, because I received a FedEx delivery notification much earlier than expected: Laura's slide had been delivered. Laura's slide was at our home, needing only to be put together in speedy fashion. At our home, almost ready for play.

Before we could rush home to build and play with the slide, Laura and I had to stop at the grocery store. We were out of milk - not something Laura could go without. I don't usually enjoy grocery shopping with a toddler, since she gets a bit fussy sitting in the cart for as long as it takes for me to gather everything we need. But today, Laura was an absolute dream. She smiled and waved to everyone. She told me grandiose stories of her day (I would love to know what she was actually saying). She was delightful!

As soon as we got home, I pushed, shoved and slid the enormous box into the yard, pulled off the tape, and dumped out the colorful contents. Laura saw the slide, and came running!

She sat on the little slide - the last piece to assemble - for several minutes. Just sitting there, beaming at me. Even in multiple pieces, Laura knew the awesomeness that was being built in her honor.

She checked out the box, just to make sure I didn't forget any pieces.

She moved back to the slide and read the directions to me. In Spanish! She's very talented.

Then she helped me with the lone screw.

And then? It was time to slide.

Today was a good mom day.

Hindsight

2011-06-13T09:30:00.000-04:00

I was going to write a post this morning about a scary experience I had yesterday. As I typed up my story, I noticed that Nate and I both sounded like Class A morons. Seriously, what were we thinking?! It's a wonder I didn't drown. And also? I'd like my husband to ~~jump in after me a little sooner next time~~ make sure we don't do something so stupid ever again.

So instead, this post is dedicated to hindsight and the stupid shit we do. It sounds like a really good idea at the time, right? Then the idea goes awry. And then you blog about it and realize prior to hitting "publish" that your actions would surely have followers out there reading in horror. In hindsight, Nate and I had a very, very, very bad idea that should never have been enacted. I'm sure we're not alone in doing stupid shit. I'm sure of it! But I'd also like to avoid a similar situation in the future.

Here I am today, sitting at my desk, very aware of my own mortality. I didn't lose consciousness, or need medical attention (except maybe for a brain scan for stupidity), but I was aware for a few brief moments as I floated downwards through the water that I couldn't reach the air that my lungs desperately needed.

Is it weird that the sensation was rather serene? Hopefully the next time I think of some fabulously stupid stunt, I'll think about the potential consequences first.

At least... three times bigger than this!

2011-06-10T21:25:00.000-04:00

We are big fans of Zoolander here at Chez MidAtlantic. So we immediately thought of Derek Zoolander's Center For Kids Who Can't Read Good And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too. Remember when he saw the initial mock-up for the center?

Derek: What is this? A center for ants? How can we be expected to teach children to learn how to read, if they can't even fit inside the building?

Mugatu: Derek, this is just a small...

Derek: I don't want to hear you exccuses! The building has to be at least... three times bigger than this!

Well, Nate and I fondly remembered that exchange this evening when Laura found this toy and tried to slide down it:

This thing is tiny!

Laura, sweetheart, you are a little too big for that slide! That slide needs to be at least... three times bigger than this to fit your bottom! It's a really good thing I purchased this slide just yesterday:

Source

The Little Tikes Hide & Slide Climber will be delivered on Monday. Not a moment too soon. And at least now I can be sure that Laura will LOVE IT!

Motive

2011-06-08T21:12:00.000-04:00

"C'mon Laura! Let's take Riesling for a walk!"

Um, ok. Nate just took Laura and Ries for a walk, and didn't even invite me. What gives? What if I wanted to take a walk too? Well, fine. If they're going to take a walk, I'm going to sit on the porch and read! So there! I can have fun too!

Read, read-ily, read-y, read.

Hmm, maybe Nate just wanted some father-daughter time. It is pretty nice out. But I still don't get why he didn't even ask if I might be interested.

Read, read-ily, read-y, read.

Aw, I bet Nate is so sweet, he just wanted to give me some quiet time to myself! That's so thoughtful of him! Wait, he's not often thoughtful like that. Weird. But I am loving this reading time on the porch!

Read, read-ily, read-y, read.

Oh, look! I see Laura walking back towards the house! What is that in her hand? Why is it orange? Why does she keep putting that orange thing in her mouth?

Yup. Flintstones Push-Pop.

And all of a sudden, Nate's motive for a walk (without Mommy) became perfectly clear: ice cream. Oh crap, I need to start soaking that white dress in hopes of getting the orange sherbet out!

The Flower Girl

2011-06-08T09:13:00.000-04:00

September 1987

May 2011

I have crazy eyes

2011-06-05T14:16:00.000-04:00

Nate and I attended the love-filled wedding of two good friends yesterday. The weather held during the lovely ceremony, and the dancing at the reception was fantastic. But in the pictures, I noticed something unfortunate: I have crazy eyes.

They start off normal enough, with just a hint of crazy.

A little crazier.

And now I look completely possessed.

Thank goodness Nate thinks my crazy is cute. Can you imagine how crazy my eyes would be without him?

A little less crazy, because we are so super cute.

Best. Dog. EVER.

2011-06-02T14:09:00.000-04:00

Seriously, I have the best dog in the universe. My dog is better than your dog. I'm not lying. This video is proof:

I bet your dog doesn't play Ring Around the Rosie!

My Flower Girl

2011-06-01T11:48:00.000-04:00

The wedding was beautiful. Laura was beautiful. The weather was (a bit hot) beautiful.

Even my cornflower blue bridesmaid dress was beautiful in line with the other nine bridesmaids.

The reception site could not have been lovlier. The food was delicious. The photographer was wonderful to work with (and I can't wait to see her photos)! We all had a wonderful time. I think Laura may have had more fun than anyone else. There was lots of playtime, flower picking, and ring around the rosie.

And I absolultely LOVED how my hair turned out. I bought that feather thing in Paris seven years ago. I found it on Thursday while I was desperately searching for the camera charger, and threw it in "just in case." So glad I did!

Every Mother's Dream

2011-05-26T14:11:00.000-04:00

Nate and I got engaged in June 2006. I had been a flower girl as a five-year-old, and I was set on having one at my own wedding as a twenty-five-year-old. I just had to find a little girl in the right age range to ask. Thankfully for me, Nate's cousin had a daughter who was going to be three by our wedding. I asked her mom if Emily would like to be in the wedding (since asking a two-year-old isn't very helpful), and was shocked by her response:

"It's every mother's dream to have her daughter be a flower girl! Yes!"

From the reaction I got, I would have thought she was the one getting married. I didn't quite get her excitement at the time. It's just a little girl in a little white dress, not that big a deal, right? Then I had a daughter and Nate's sister got engaged. I waited on pins and needles for my sister-in-law to ask me to have Laura as a flower girl. And as I happily screamed my excited "YES!" I related the reaction of her cousin a few years earlier. I didn't know it in June 2006, but I do now: it is every mother's dream to have her daughter be a flower girl.

My little flower girl will be walking down the aisle on Saturday. I can't wait to see Laura in her pretty white dress, lovingly sewn by her grandma. I can't wait to see her face as she toddles past all the happy guests in the church. I can't wait to watch Nate and Laura dance together at the reception.

There is a picture of me and my mother outside the church to my cousin's wedding. My mother is looking at the camera, her face radiant with happiness for the newly married couple. I am looking at my basket of flowers, my curled hair falling softly around my face. I was beaming and shy at receiving so much attention. I hope I can get a similar picture of me with Laura on Saturday. I can't wait to see my flower girl.

And a thank you to all my wonderful readers! This is my 500th post in a little over two years!

VlogTalk: Outtakes

2011-05-25T13:39:00.000-04:00

Because OMG guys, I was re-watching some of the attempts I made at a vlog yesterday and they are that bad. This is the best... of the worst. Also, do I really sound like that? Does my face really contort off to the side like that when I talk?

VlogTalk: Tea for Two

2011-05-24T20:53:00.002-04:00

My friends, this little vlog took me forever. I did one on the porch, but it was forced and not me. I moved inside, but then the lighting was weird. I moved into better lighting, but then my face looked all weird. And then Laura pinched me. And then. And then. Seriously, this took 10 takes on my little iPhone. Enjoy!

A little experiment

2011-05-24T09:47:00.000-04:00

Laura has tons of toys. More than she could possibly ever play with. So most of them are completely ignored on a daily basis. I bet a lot of you moms out there are nodding your heads in agreements. Too many toys from too many loving relatives, and not nearly enough time in the day to play with them all.

I bet all you non-moms are shaking your heads in disgust. Why would a parent cave to the pressures of a capitalist society and buy all those damn toys? The answer: we didn't. Thank you to the aunts, uncles, grandparents and friends for that one!

Not to sound ungrateful. The presents bestowed upon my daughter are lovingly selected and thoughtfully presented. We appreciate the sentiment behind each gift, and I am fairly good at remembering who gave us each toy.

The fact remains that our house is littered with toys that Laura isn't even interested in. So last night, Nate and I went through them all. We matched up all the loose pieces (none missing!), and decided which we would keep upstairs, and which we would hide in the basement. We kept the toys Laura plays with the most, and hid everything else. I don't think Laura will even notice that her (once much loved) activity table is missing. She just doesn't play with it anymore.

The puzzles, books, purses, and kitchen accessories made the cut. Isn't it funny how the favorite toys are the least complicated?

Husbands always under-estimate pain

2011-05-23T09:32:00.001-04:00

A few months ago, I was sitting on the floor of the family room while Laura played and Nate watched TV. All of a sudden, Nate launched himself across the room in order to suprise Laura while she played. Nate landed on my outstretched leg, making my lower leg feel as though it had cracked. Laura cracked up at Mommy howling in pain, and Nate told me I was over-reacting. "I didn't touch you, what are you wailing about?" Um, you landed ON MY ANKLE was all I told him. And then I hobbled around for show, and promptly forgot about it.

For the last few weeks, I have been kicking ass on the treadmill three mornings a week. I am logging miles (3 of them!) each time I get on the machine, and I'm feeling good. Mostly. My lower-leg portion of my ankle has been a problem, but one that felt fine for the most part. It hadn't been a problem while I was running, only aching for a few moments later on.

Last week, I was helping Nate move some of our enormously heavy lawn furniture so he could mow (this is why God invented patios). I hefted a chair up, moved it 5 feet, and was just about to set it down when the twirly pedestal part swung around and smacked me in the shin. I dropped the chair and started howling in pain. Laura cracked up and Nate told me I was over-reacting.

Since that time, my leg has ached and throbbed almost constantly. Except when I running. I logged some really solid workouts this past week. My body is really starting to look great. Which is perfect, because I am a bridesmaid in a wedding this weekend. Perfect, except that I won't be running in 3-inch heels with my floor-length dress during the wedding. Nate finally got the picture last night when he grabbed the foot on my hurt leg to give it a little rub. A sweet gesture, but one that started me howling in pain again. "Is your leg still hurting? Looks like a high-ankle sprain."

So this week? I'm taking some time off the treadmill, and will opt for some upper-body workouts instead. I'm wearing my sneakers to work everyday. I'm popping Advil like a druggy. I'm trying to keep my hurt ankle elevated. I will look hot in those heels. And next week, I can finish my recovery.

And here I am, talking about basil!

2011-05-19T09:52:00.000-04:00

Can you believe it? I'm worried about a stupid basil plant when THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO END?! Where are my priorities!!

Source: Roberto Schmidt/Getty Images

You know what? If the world is about to end, I'd rather not know about it. Like, if the End is a surprise party maybe there will be cupcakes or something. And if there aren't any cupcakes, I'd rather not waste time fretting about it. Indeed, I'd rather spend that time finding and eating cupcakes. Which is ironic, because I really shouldn't be eating cupcakes at all, because I'm trying to lose weight and all.

Nate, Laura and I are planning to attend our friend's 1st birthday party on Saturday. The party is at her mom and dad's (duh) and is a pool party. So I'll be squeezing into the new bathing suit I bought myself last night at Marshalls. Which means I really, really shouldn't have cupcakes that might be lying around. Or that coffee cake from Starbucks this morning. Or the venti latte (that was at least a skinny!).

On the other hand, if the world ends mid-party on Saturday, no one will care how lumpy I look in that bathing suit. So in other words: bring on the cupcakes!

The Quest for Fresh Basil

2011-05-18T09:26:00.000-04:00

There is nothing more summery than the smell and taste of fresh basil. Mmm... it smells so good... But I have a confession: I suck at keeping basil plants alive. It shouldn't be that hard. Basil is a glorified weed that thrives in hot conditions! And yet, I can't seem to manage it.

Oh, Basil! How I love thee!

In previous years, I have tried to plant basil in pots on the porch. They are outside, getting fresh air, and a nice balance of sun and shade. But they don't tend to get a lot of water. Being on a covered porch and all. And seeing as I can't seem to remember to water them. After a few weeks, my poor little plants are dried up corpses.

Other years, I have bought the little plastic boxes of "fresh" basil that is sold next to the pre-tossed salads in the produce section. However, this basil is never fresh enough, and it never lasts more than a few days before getting wilty and gross. Plus, doesn't it seem odd to pay that much for a weed?

For the last few weeks, I have walked past the little potted basil plants in the produce section that seem to promise indoor-friendly, fresh herbs. I have been tempted. I have picked up and put back down the little tubs with their plastic sleeve protecting the tender leaves. I have wanted, decided better, then regretted. So I finally bought one two weeks ago.

I was so proud! I followed the directions on the sleeve to a T. I kept the lower portion of the sleeve on the tub. I watered from the bottom. I snipped leaves to eat as well as to promote growth. My little plant was thriving. And then I took it off the window last night to clean under the dish it was sitting in.

That's when I noticed the furry, blue mold covering the surface of the dirt. Another basil plant added to my list of failures. I took out the scissors, snipped the stalks of the plant in one swoop, and hung it upside-down to dry; I dumped the molding soil and remaining vestiges of my failure into a pot on the porch. It seems that the quest for fresh basil continues. It shouldn't be this hard.

The Best Part, Again

2011-05-17T13:43:00.003-04:00

A few blogs around the interwebs are participating in VlogTalk today. At first, I thought to myself, "pish, no way I'm posting a vlog." This reaction was, in part, because I am one of the few people remaining on this planet who do not have access to a webcam. But also, I don't like how my voice sounds when it has been recorded. I sound like an eight-year-old.

But then I remembered that I have a little footage of Laura from our ride home the other day. Without further ado, Laura presents a vlog on the most exciting aspects of her day:

Ok, so this might not be what the lovely VlogTalk people had in mind. But it's all I've got! I'm not a vlogger, but gosh darnit my kid is cute!

Post-Lent Crash

2011-05-16T13:43:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, I blogged about how Lent changed my life before. I became a super mom for forty days and nights; cleaning my house, playing with my daughter and cooking dinner every night. I said "I can't imagine going back to the way things were before."

That was a few weeks ago.

I spent the entire past week throwing together random ingredients and calling it "dinner." I sat on my ass most of the weekend, watching TV and whining to myself (since no one would listen) about all the housework that needs to be done. I had moments where Laura was driving me nuts - the phrase I sought to abolish from my vocabulary over Lent. So clearly, things went back to the way they were before.

Which is ridiculous. There is no reason I can't come up with a weekly grocery list and meal plan. There is no reason I should have sugar ants trekking across my kitchen. There is no reason for me to become so continually frustrated with a toddler. So today, Monday, I'm going back into Lent mode.

Porch Settin'

2011-05-15T21:11:00.001-04:00

I grew up in New England, where porches are not all that common. Porch settin' was a foreign concept to me when I moved to the MidAtlantic eleven years ago. (Holy crap, I've been down here eleven years?!)

I'm not sure how I survived without porch settin' all those years of my youth. What else does one do on a stiffling muggy day, than set on the porch with a sweet tea (also foreign to me) and a good book? Thankfully, my daughter will not be so deprived. We have started her early, and already Laura understands the pleasure that is settin' on the porch.

Happy Mother's Week!

2011-05-14T11:07:00.000-04:00

Friends, I never had a chance to tell you how awesome my 2nd Mother's Day was. It was awesome. It started last Saturday, and has continued through this whole week.

Saturday: I spent the day with Laura and some friends in DC, while Nate had to work. When I got home (after a really fun day), there was a BRAND NEW iPhone 4 waiting for me! In a hot pink case! I will admit, I had been pretty bratty in wanting a new iPhone so much. And I just couldn't settle for the 3GS - if Nate could have a 4, I wanted a 4 too! And now I have one.

Sunday: Nate wanted to ~~make~~ buy me breakfast. But at Noon when we still hadn't moved in that direction, we decided to get some lunch. McDonalds. Because sometimes you just need a chocolate milkshake. But it was such a nice day, we decided to walk. It was such a lovely walk! We took the long way home, and our walk turned out to take about an hour and a half. It was perfect.

Monday through Wednesday: I got to play with and show off my new phone! And Nate was just generally in a great mood. And he, er, made me feel pretty sexy on several occasions. We spent hours after work on the porch, just enjoying the fine weather and each other.

Thursday: I had a freaking fantastic workout. I ran 3.1 miles (a 5k!) in exactly 30 minutes on the treadmill. Then proceeded to have a kick-ass abs workout. I felt strong and energetic all day.

Friday: Oh, Friday! As if Fridays aren't just awesome on their own. I got home Friday to a five-bottle wine tasting with Nate and my mother-in-law. We drank pretty much all five bottles. And rocked out to Little Richard singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider." And then, during #wineparty, Nate outdid himself. He kept my wine glass full. He brought me dishes of ice cream - that I didn't even request! When my laptop freaked out, he brought me his. After I signed off #wineparty, Nate and I stayed up talking about our hopes and dreams and plans and goals till 1am.

Today is Saturday again. I'm at work for a few hours to bank some extra vacation time. Nate is home with Laura - they had big plans for the day. I am at work for a few hours, contemplating the wonderful week I've just had. This past week, I felt like I got my husband back from a dark place. Nate was once again the fun, happy guy I married nearly four years ago. This was a wonderful week.

The Best Part

2011-05-11T20:55:00.000-04:00

It's hard being a go-to-work mom (let's be honest: all moms are working moms). I go to work, away from Laura, five days a week. I love my job and adore my coworkers, but I spend a lot of time wondering how my baby is doing. I'm busting to leave work every night so I can get home to see Laura. I spend forty minutes on the train decompressing, followed by a speed-walk to my car. I hurry as fast as I can to day care. That's when I get to the best part of my day.

I walk down the cool hallway, passing whichever bigger kids are still at play. I slip off my shoes and gather Laura's bag and papers from her cubby. I slowly open the door to the nfant/toddler room and look around till I see the familiar poof of hair. I call Laura's name and watch as her head swivels in my direction. Her eyes open wide and she drops whatever toy she's playing with. She runs toward me with her chubby arms wide open for a hug. She clambers into my arms as the teachers gather her remaining belongings into her bag.

We get into the car and set off toward home. Almost immediately, Laura starts babbling away. Sometimes her babble is serious and earnest. Other times, her babble is energetic and excited. Laura is telling me about her day. At quieter parts, I quickly turn my head to make eye contact as I ask a question about her day:

"Oh, really? That sounds pretty exciting!"

"Oh gosh, Laura. I just can't believe that. I think you're making it up!"

"Did you get to play outside today? I bet you loved that."

Laura answers each of my questions with corresponding babble. We are discussing her day.

And it's the best conversation of my day.

Budding Interests

2011-05-10T14:40:00.000-04:00

For whatever reason, I keep getting surprised by the fun aspects of motherhood, rather than the not-fun parts as one might assume. Somehow I anticipated getting frustrated, being tired, and wanting to die on the couch in a pile of Twinkies and Cheetos while watching mindless TV. But the fun parts, like watching Laura's interests emerge, have been a total shock. It never even occurred to me that I would literally watch my daughter turn into a kid.

Yesterday, Laura and I were playing on the porch after we got home from work and day care. I was quietly reading my book when I looked up to see Laura covered in dirt from a planter (that incidentally has had nothing planted in it yet this year). She was having a blast grabbing handfuls of dirt, then opening her little fist and watching as the dirt slipped to the ground. Like so many things, it never occurred to me that Laura would be curious about the mundane features of the outdoors. You are thinking right now, "Um, DUH!" But for me, this was a totally foreign concept.

Isn't she cute, all covered in dirt? And since the planters are just holding dirt right now, I think I'll use Laura's interest to plant a cheery little garden with her.

My Monster

2011-05-09T15:01:00.000-04:00

I remember the first time I met my monster. I was sitting on the bed in my dorm room, my back against the cool, concrete wall. My horrible roommate was blessedly absent. I was trying to watch something on TV, but couldn't.

I couldn't see the TV through the spots darting in front of my eyes.
Acid was slowing climbing, burning in my chest.
The room was spinning. No, I was spinning. Spinning backwards, into blackness.

I was hungry. On my desk, to the right, sat four celery sticks. They stared at me, mocking me, daring me to eat them. But I couldn't. I took another sip of plain, hot water instead, willing my stomach to feel full.

I ran my hand through my hair, as I tried to stop the spinning. When my hand came away, my hair came with it. I was exhausted, but unable to sleep.

I was hungry, but unable to eat. I got up to go for another workout. My second that day. I pulled on my workout clothes, ignoring the bruises on my arms and legs, and started outside. If I was running, I wouldn't be hungry. If I was running, the spinning would stop.

I looked in the mirror at that moment and saw for the first time the strange, otherworldly look in my sunken eyes. Those eyes, with their crazy determination, were not my own. I was lost in myself. I sat back down on my bed and called a friend. I needed to eat. I needed help to eat.

I never want to be in that dark place again in my life. That was a true low point for me, the lowest I have ever been. I never want to feel so dizzy and out of control. I never want to ask for help to eat. I am afraid of the monster I saw at the gym on Thursday.

But I'm even more afraid of giving up on myself, after I have come so far over the past five months. I am just starting to get my body back from a monster almost as evil as the one who starved me - the monster who would have me give up my life to instead lay on a couch and eat myself into oblivion. I mentioned last week that I walk a fine line. I struggle to find balance between obsession and apathy. I was terrified of what I saw at the gym on Thursday, but I went back to the gym on Friday. And I'll go again tomorrow. And I'll conquer that monster while I continue to create a healthy life for myself - and my daughter. If I can keep the monster back, perhaps Laura will never have to meet it.

My Subconcious Hates Me

2011-05-07T08:53:00.000-04:00

Lately, I've been forgetting to take my medicines - Zoloft and THE PILL - before bed. It shouldn't be so easy to forget them. They are right there in the medicine cabinet, next to my contacts, staring at me as I plunge myself into blindness in a nightly ritual. It should be pretty simple. Take out my contacts, put the case in the cabinet, and grab the prescriptions from the shelf. But it's not. I keep forgetting.

There are some obvious downsides to this forgetfulness. For one thing, I'm (close but) not quite ready to start on Bebe le Deuxieme. Did you hear that, Subconscious? I'm not quite ready yet. Give me a few more months, and then we'll talk.
Side note: I even called to schedule my annual girly parts check-up, and they couldn't fit me in until late August. Ain't nothing happening in the uterus till after that appointment!

The other downside is the Zoloft. Have any of you ever been on Zoloft and missed a dose? Oh my god, it is awful. The first time I felt the "jolting electric zaps" described as one of the more common withdrawal symptoms, I thought I was going to faint and die a slow, seizured death. They started off a bit twitchy with one or two that the morning. I attributed the bizarre tingly, woozy, breathless, jolty sensation to too much caffeine. As they became more frequent as lunch approached, I decided it was low blood sugar because I was so hungry. When they were a constant source of anxiety and paranoia after lunch, I figured I actually hadn't had enough caffeine (which is silly, because any caffeine is more than enough for me!). It dawned on me that I hadn't taken my medicines the night before halfway through the Coke I grabbed from the vending machine.

That day, three weeks ago, I was a bit skeptical that I could be experiencing withdrawal symptoms mere hours after missing one dose. But then it happened again two weeks ago. And again last week. And yet again yesterday. (Seriously, you'd think I could be a grown-up and just freaking remember!)

Yesterday was the worst it has been. I could barely get up from my desk without a jolt making me feel like I was about to fall over. With each jolt, I became more short of breath. Like I needed to feel short of breath while fighting back my personal monster and trying not to go ape-shit on my dad's family. I looked up the symptoms of Zolft withdrawal again and read that, yes, withdrawal can begin within a few hours of a missed dose. Wow.

I have been wondering a lot lately about my use of Zoloft. Do I really need it anymore? When should I start to taper before trying for Bebe le Deuxieme? Based on the nauseating twitchiness that for some reason I swear I can cure by eating chocolate, I think I'll need a long taper. I'd really like to start that taper now. I'm not sure I like being on Zoloft. Which brings me back to the side note above: my doctor can't fit me in until late August. Ain't nothing happening in the uterus till after that appointment!
Until then, let's just hope I can remember to take my damn prescriptions!

And then the dog got drunk

2011-05-06T10:04:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was quite the day. I mentioned my monster from the past. What I didn't mention is that this feeling of darkness that creeps is truly a physical manifestation. My facial expression changes. My back gets the creepy-crawlies. I feel anxious and paranoid. When I look at myself in the mirror, it's like some strange person has taken over my body. That's why I call this obsession my monster. I become that monster.

So yesterday already started off on pretty shaky ground. And then my dad's family got involved. We've been trying to plan another family reunion for literally years now. Someone gets all gung-ho on the idea, throws around some possible weekends, and then nothing happens. Just as my grandfather began his rapid decline, the reunion idea popped back up again, with a different urgency than before. We all wanted to see Grandpa one more time. Clearly, that didn't happen. But now we're trying to also incorporate Grandpa's memorial service into the mix. It's not going well.

Someone throws out a date. I go through my calendar, and figure out how I can possibly make it that weekend (which usually involves driving through the night, staying a few hours, flying home - a mess). And as soon as I come up with a plan to make sure I can be there, another relative says "Oh, I was planning to go shoe shopping that day, can't make it!" or something stupid like that.

One uncle has sent the same email eight times. His point? Not everyone is going to be able to make it, so we'll have to compromise. No shit, Sherlock. How about you contribute something useful to this debacle? In the meantime, my poor father is so upset with what a disaster this reunion/memorial is turning out to be. Nate and my brother's wife just keep rolling their eyes in disgust. Our grandfather died - why wouldn't we drop our lives for a weekend, fly up to New England, and celebrate his life together? Why are we talking about planning a memorial in October when he died in April? This is ridiculous.

So my mother-in-law was not at all surprised when I texted her yesterday afternoon to please stop by the liquor store for some margarita mix. She knew I could use a drink, and she was happy to have one (and a bitch-fest) with me. She packed Laura into the stroller, walked to the liquor store for the necessary supplies, then walked home with the margarita mix swinging from the handle of the stroller. As soon as she took Laura out of the stroller back at the house, the whole thing fell backwards. The margarita mix shattered all over the sidewalk. My precious tequila gone. Back to the store they went for more mix.

Back at the house once more, my mother-in-law carefully unloaded the liquor first, then Laura. Then she let the dog out of the house to enjoy the sunny afternoon. And that's when the dog got drunk from the tequila puddled on the sidewalk.

But as my mother-in-law confessed this story (with the drunk dog zooming all over the yard at hyper warp speeds), all I could do was laugh. I had battled the monster of eating disorder that morning, battled the monster of family that afternoon, and my dog was drunk. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So I poured myself a nice, cold margarita and started to laugh.

I walk a fine line

2011-05-05T12:01:00.000-04:00

I had a fantastic workout this morning. Everything clicked as my feet pounded the treadmill. My posture was good. My stomach was flat. I felt strong and (for me) fast. At one point, I caught the reflection of my profile in one of the gym mirrors. In that profile, I saw a silhouette of a body I could have with just a little more work. Yes, the flab I'm trying to get rid of was still present, but I could imagine a slimmer figure in that reflection. I saw the body I could be, and thought of a quote from the sculptor Michalangelo:

“In every block of marble I see a statue as plain as though it stood before me, shaped and perfect in attitude and action. I have only to hew away the rough walls that imprison the lovely apparition to reveal it to the other eyes as mine see it.” Source

I upped the speed on my treadmill as I pictured myself as a sculptor, chiseling away the fat on my body to find the sexy, fit person inside. I walked an extra five minutes following my run, making sure to engage my stomach muscles. I stared at my reflection, viewing my posture from every angle the multitude of mirrors would allow. I stretched on the treadmill, wiped it down, and then headed into the aerobics room (with more mirrors) for some more stretching and ab work.

I did exercises I have never done before this morning. I twisted, and crunched, and stretched, and pressed. I was a machine. It was a great workout. That's when I felt an old monster begin to creep into my life. That obsessive, cruel monster.

I felt the dark hood creep over my eyes, forcing me to only see the negative of my body. Forcing me to obsess over what and how much to eat for breakfast. Forcing me to think that I should have spent more time (after an hour-long workout) at the gym, even though it was time to go to work. I felt a monster creaping back into my life, a monster I haven't seen since college. A monster I thought I had abolished from my life.

I felt really great this morning before this monster of potential made her evil appearance. It was the best workout in months. I don't want to go back to my obsessive behavior from years ago. But I also don't want to quit as I have at other points in my life. I deserve to have a healthy, fit body without becoming obsessed with it. But it's a fine line I walk between apathy and obsession.

How do I find balance without letting the monster take over? I walk a very fine line.

Groupon, I think I love you.

2011-05-04T22:26:00.000-04:00

A couple of months ago, Nate casually asked "do you use that groupon thing ever?"
Why no, Nate, I keep hearing good things, but I haven't signed up yet.

So I moseyed on over to the site and signed up. And the first offer that popped up was $10 for a 20-page 8x8 photobook on Shutterfly. Well, hello! I was just in the market for a photobook.

No, seriously. I make a yearbook for Nate every year. It started with our honeymoon. I mean, we couldn't frame all 1,200 pictures we took. I'm dead serious. We took two full cards worth of pictures. 1,200. Tahiti is that gorgeous. So I needed a way to remember our wonderful trip without wallpapering my house with pictures. So I made a photobook on Kodak Gallery. And then I made one for 2008. Then again for 2009.

2010 was a big year for us. I mean, we met our daughter in the first month of that year! We took thousands of pictures of our little darling, and all of them deserve a permanent place in our home (besides the external hard drive). I had started one on Kodak Gallery, but it was over 50 pages and cost even more than that.

So when I logged into Groupon and saw the fabulous deal on a photobook, I whipped out my wallet. And then promptly forgot about it. I would remember from time to time that I really needed to get that yearbook done. And then life would interupt me. Until this week.

This week, I got the book done! I narrowed my initial album of 230 pictures to 209, and squeezed it into 53 pages of memories. Then I entered my Groupon promo code and braced myself for the cost.

$33.00

This was a $70 book that I got for $33! I cannot believe the savings! Groupon? I love you. Now, what should I purchase next? (PS - the Shutterfly site is pretty awesome for creating books! I can't wait to see how it turns out!)

Ham Meatloaf

2011-05-02T20:53:00.000-04:00

Several years ago, my mom made ham meatloaf in an attempt to use up some leftover ham. It was vile. Not even my dad would eat it. Ham. Meatloaf. And this from a woman who, in my memory, had never made anything less than delicious. The ham meatloaf was my mother's one culinary disaster, and we've never let her live it down.

Tonight, I was faced with the final remnants of an Easter ham. We were sandwiched and quiched out. But what to do with the leftover? I actually thought my mom wasn't so crazy for attempting the ham meatloaf. But I wasn't ready to stoop to that low.

I broke out my trusty Fannie Farmer cookbook, and looked up "ham" in the index at the back. Low and behold, there is an entire section of the book devoted to ham leftovers. Including several recipes for "ham loaf." I quickly skipped over those recipes. But then I found one with some promise:

Ham and Noodle Casserole
This sounds a lot like tuna noodle casserole, but I wouldn't know because I don't eat tuna. But I had the ingredients on hand, including more than enough ham. Result? DELICIOUS. I will definitely be making this again. And so, in case any of you are faced with too much ham, please enjoy this recipe!

Ingredients:
4 tablespoons butter
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup grated Gruyere or Swiss cheese (I always add extra cheese!)
1 1/2 cups chopped cooked ham
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 pound egg noodles, 1/4 inch wide, cooked
(I added some julienned uncooked spinach for something green)

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350*F.
Butter a 2-quart casserole dish.
Melt the butter in a skillet and cook the onion over medium heat until soft (5 minutes or so).
In a small bowl, mix the eggs and sour cream, then add the onion, cheese and ham (and spinach).
Add salt and pepper to taste.
Put the cooked noodles into the casserole, then add the sauce and toss gently.
Bake for 45 minutes or until a straw inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Fannie Farmer adds that this can be made with leftover pot roast, beef stew, or chicken.
Bon Appetit!

Bless Our Troops

2011-05-02T08:55:00.000-04:00

I keep a running list of blog post ideas on my phone. I don't really like hen-pecking my way through the notepad on the iPhone, but I always have my phone with me. Even late at night, as I lay awake in bed, I can quickly peck out a quick note of what I wanted to write about. I had planned to get to at least one of those today. But something came up.

I went to bed around 10 pm last night, like I usually do. I was all snuggled in, with crisp, clean sheets on the bed (my favorite part of the week!). I was just getting to that wonderful dozy part of sleep, where I know I'll be completely out in just a few minutes, when I heard Nate bound up the stairs. I expected to hear the electric toothbrush start whirring. Instead, I was startled by the door flying open.

It has to be something really important for Nate to risk the wrath of the sleepy Cait. And it was.

"Come downstairs. It's all over the news: Bin Laden is dead."
"WHAT?!"
"Yeah, we got him."

I flew downstairs, never so happy to have been dragged out of bed in my life. I tried to stay up to hear the President speak, but as 11:00 came and went, my eyes started to droop and I pictured the alarm clock going off far too soon.

So I don't know all of the details. What I do know is that we are blessed to be protected by our military. All the men and women who sacrifice themselves and their families in the name of service. God bless our troops, and God bless the USA!

Two.

2011-04-30T10:02:00.000-04:00

Two years ago today, I first put my voice out there on this blog. I wrote a cheery little post about wanting a place to share my deepest, darkest secrets and emotions. If that was the original mission of this blog, I think I have succeeded. You have been here for all my highs and lows.

Thank you for being here. My highs have been higher. My lows have been not so low. It's so therapeutic for me to come here and talk about my day, my woes, my joys.

In the past two years, I have changed a lot as a person. I am pretty confident that most of the change is for the good. I'm not quite as free-spirited as I once was, but I'm a lot more patient. I guess motherhood does that to you.

Motherhood also makes you clean up your vocabulary. Did you know I have a potty mouth? I don't often swear in writing, because it doesn't always feel right to me to say fuck, or shit, or poophead. But I swear a lot in my daily life. Too much.

Laura said shit yesterday morning. In context.

So please join me in this, my third year of blogging, where I move my potty mouth to the internet. I have to release my desire to swer somewhere, right? It's gonna be fucking awesome. Thanks for reading for the last two years! Stay tuned!

Reunited

2011-04-29T08:53:00.001-04:00

My uncle took this picture yesterday afternoon.
A double rainbow over Montpelier.

I like to think it's my grandparents, reunited in the sky.

My Grandfather

2011-04-28T20:46:00.000-04:00

It's so funny how thoughts work. How thoughts sometimes predict life. Last night, while I was cleaning the dome from the kitchen light, somehow my thoughts turned to my grandparents. I thought about how they were so ahead of their time. They were incredibly liberal for the 1940's. My grandfather was an artist against his parents wishes. My Jewish grandmother married my Lutheran grandfather against her parents express wishes. My grandparents eloped and moved into a rural area in upstate New York to raise their family according to their ideals. I was thinking about this just yesterday.

Two days ago, I was thinking about how my grandfather used to trap me in his lap when I was a toddler. He would hold me close and jiggle my body back and force as I "tried" to escape from his clutches. I would laugh until I cried. When he released me, I would beg to be trapped again. I was thinking that I would love for my father to trap Laura in the same way. I was thinking about this just two days ago.

This afternoon I received an email from my father from 32,000 feet in the air. My father was on a plane, on the way to an important meeting, and he had news that was so important, it couldn't wait till he had landed. My grandfather died this morning. He was 94 years old. He was the only grandfather I ever knew. He was a wonderful grandfather.

Laura with her great-grandfather, December 2010

I have spent most of this afternoon thinking about Grandpa. I thought about the last time I saw him, this Christmas. My family was supposed to drive up to Vermont the day after Christmas, but were thwarted by a major snow storm. So we rescheduled the trip for a few days later. The morning of our trip, my father woke up incredibly sick. It seemed as if we just were not meant to see Grandpa. And then my mother who hates to drive grabbed her keys and started the car. We strapped Laura in her carseat, made sure my dad had enough tea and soup to see him through the day, and hit the highway. We spent a few hours watching Laura play at Grandpa's feet. Laura won't remember meeting Grandpa, but I will. I will always cherish that last visit.
This afternoon, I remembered visiting Grandpa and Grandma in the home they built from the ground up. The home where I got to drink grape juice - which was never allowed at home. I still love purple grape juice, and am sad it's not longer sold in that glass bottle.

This afternoon, I remembered eating "wait-and-see" for desserts every night of our visits. For the longest time, I thought that was an actual dessert, something one could order at a bakery. I think it was usually pie and ice cream, but it was always delicious.

This afternoon, I remembered the smell of Grandpa's studio. I loved going across the porch to the studio to watch him paint. The pungent oils made my eyes water while I stared, mesmerized, at his works. Grandpa's oil paintings are at least a small part of why I was so drawn to Art History in college. Grandpa was always so proud of my career in the museum field.

This afternoon, I remembered going out to Wyoming to celebrate my grandparent's fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was a big number to me back then at age seven - and is still such a big number now. I hope that in forty-six years Nate and I are joined by our children and grandchildren to celebrate our lifetime together.

My grandmother died five years ago. My grandfather has been alone for five years. I miss my grandmother and I will miss my grandfather, but I am happy knowing they are together again.

Weather or Not

2011-04-28T09:20:00.000-04:00

I am sleepy and a titch grumpy today. I am affected by the gloomy weather outside. Yesterday there was sun and I was sunny. Today there are clouds and my countenance is clouded.

Yesterday (though cheery) I was having dizzy spells all day. At first I thought I'd had too much caffeine. Then I thought I was too hungry. Then I thought I hadn't had enough caffeine. Then I fell fast asleep on the train home and felt much better.

So maybe I was tired yesterday, despite my cheeriness. Maybe my body was so physically exhaused, I couldn't stop twitching. So I gave myself the evening off from housework, because I felt some quiet rest was more important.

Then a lightbulb burnt out over the sink. So I took off the dome, replaced the bulb, and decided to clean the dome. Then I figured, while the lightbulbs were out, I should change the bulb that has been burnt out over the stove for over a year. So I figured out how to remove the airvent to actually get to the bulb... and stuck my hand in a pool of ancient grease. So of course that had to be cleaned. And scrubbed. And soaped. And brillo-ed. And then dried and replaced.

I had given myself the evening off from cleaning, and wound up doing some of the grossest cleaning to date!

But a clean house is entirely worth it for this funny bunny!

I'm in trouble!

2011-04-27T10:56:00.000-04:00

My favorite store just opened 2.1 miles from my house. I could practically walk there. Except that I'm too lazy to walk 2 miles just to shop for things I probably don't need.

But what am I talking about? Of course I need all the shoes, clothing and home furnishings that Marshalls can offer me!

Yes. I am fabulous.

Laura and I went over to check out the new ~~heaven on earth~~ store after school yesterday. And we left with one pair of sandals, one shirt, and two pairs of pants in a size six that fit me perfectly. Um, all of the aforementioned articles of clothing might have been for me. I might have neglected to buy anything for Laura.

In fairness, I picked out a new board book for Laura - Moo, Baa, La La La! - for the little minchkin. We read it while we shopped. When we finished the tome, Laura waved her hands in the air and shouted "Gall Gahn!" (which means all gone) and then shoved the book away. I took that to mean that it wasn't her literary styling, and that she didn't want to take it home. So we saved $3.99 off a bill of $100.

All I'm saying is that having a Marshalls so close to home is probably not a good thing for my wallet. But it is a very good thing for my soul!