Boobs Are The Best

Even though it should be October every month, in my opinion, we have this one time in particular each year where this great month is recognized as Breast Cancer Awareness Month. In honor of all of the women in my family, my friends and all across the world, I'm going pink for the month of October. Will you join me?

Boobs aren't just neat to look at, they're important!
Breast health is very important, because my breasts are not only an important part of my body, they're an important part of my life. Now, more recently, they're an important part of my family's life since I've been nursing our young son. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost them, but at times like this, it's comforting to know there is a growing network of people out there who would help me out if I needed it.

I love my boobs and what they mean to me and to everyone else!
They've been through some really tough times, but they've always been with me, leading me, out in front and by my side (well, you know how motherhood changes that a bit). My boobs really know the ups and downs in life. They've been through a lot. They have uplifted me and they have let me down. I've done the same for them in return. They have drawn attention to things that matter most to me in life. When I was a teen, they drew attention to boys — as well as girls. (This goes out to all the chics in the 5th grade who accused me of stuffing my bra and who cornered me in a bathroom stall to prove it. Ha ha on you!) When I became an adult, they showed me that life isn't always fair and sometimes your brain gets overlooked when the boobs get in the way. Sometimes, I swear, these girls have just had minds of their own. They're not easy to hide.

Lucky for me, in all the time that I've been breastfeeding my son, I've never been made to feel like I had to hide in a dark corner while nursing in private or in public, but it's a real shame that hasn't been the case for some women I know. I did have issues (long story for another time) when it came to working and pumping and I have left a job in order to care for my boobs though, because that's how important they are.

Boobs are the best!
Funny how when they're young,
the public can't get enough of 'em;
always wanting to see them squooshed
in bras and bikini tops on magazines pushed
bigger than life on the billboards,
everyone knows they feed the hoards.
Whether it's at a burger joint or a bistro,
Hooters and booties in the YouTube video
from a baby on it's mamma or a bottle from the tap,
there's something for everyone and for that we can all clap!
But when they're not as elastic,
We're compelled to replace 'em with plastic.
And when they are ill and we need to make a choice,
That's when we no longer rejoice
in the lace and the fills
where the cup runneth over till it spills
Let us not forget what is best
Check early, check often and get that test!
Love your self, love your mother
Help support one another
Remember the boobs, save the breast!

You can help for free, encourage awareness and donations. Click on the Go Pink image above or visit these fine links:

Susan G. Komen for the Cure

Pink for October.org

Pink your Twitter

Much thanks to Natalie, designer of the beautiful twitter patterns, for raising my awareness and helping to give me to tools to Go Pink!

I'm passing this on. Now it's your turn!

(Leave a comment if you decide to do this, I'd love to see your blog all decked out in pink.)

The Hardest Word

"I'm s-s-s-s-oree-ee da-d-dee," he said with tears streaming down his chin, snot swiped across his cheek, and in the most adorable whimper that nearly broke my heart.


We're trying to teach our very young son about right, wrong, consequences and rewards. It's not fun. Except for the rewards part. Which, right now is picking him up out of the pack-n-play where he's served his time-out, cuddling him and soothing his misery and reexplaining to him just what he did that was wrong and that even when he's bad, Mommy and Daddy still love him no matter what, but that being bad upsets us and the result is a time-out (or a swift smack on the hand if he did something dangerous).

Tonight's bad choice: spilling salt from a salt shaker all over the floor that we had just vacuumed. I don't think he really knew it was such a big deal but he knows now.

Teaching a child at this age to apologize is not easy. He's probably much too young to even comprehend the concept of feeling remorse, but I think it's important to introduce this to him early on. Too many children today, it seems, get to skip this part, but I won't have it.

As much as I dislike this part of the parenting experience, my favorite part is loving him and reassuring him that I love him no matter what. I love to snuggle him and console him. I love the part where he hugs me and says "I love you, Mommy," and then goes back to playing without holding a grudge.

Our son is blossoming and absorbing so much right now. I'm so very proud of him each and every day.

Family Bedhead

Well, we've been back at home for two months now and we're still having sleeping issues. I've been trying really hard to get more sleep and for about a week or two, it was working out pretty well. Lucian was finally starting to sleep in his room, in his bed for an entire night. I finally started accepting that and taking advantage of it. Now he's cutting his second molars and getting up and coming into our room each night – again.

I'm blaming it on the teeth. It makes me feel better.

We've been co-sleeping with him for so long now that most times we just give in and pull him into bed with us. Sometime we even have a little step stool by the foot of the bed that he can use to climb up and tuck himself in so we can sorta still sleep undisturbed...kinda...well a little more than actually having to wake up all the way and pick him up. The step stool is now in the 2nd bathroom (Lucian's bathroom) in front of the toilette and I'm tempted to purchase another just to keep at the side of the bed!

I'm convinced that sleep is for the dead.
Sleep — it's just not for me. Passing out from exhaustion for a few hours, maybe, but sleep...I just can't get it to stick unless medicinally provoked.

Despite how much I joke about loving being high on Benadryl, I really loathe taking pills or having to rely on any type of chemical to make me do what I should be able to do naturally. You know, like normal people. I envy people who can just fall asleep. Just lay their head on the pillow, close their eyes and drift off. I envy people who can breathe with pollen in the air. I envy people who can wear or touch wool. I envy people who can naturally coexist with furry animals and not break out in hives or have an asthma attack. I welcome the sanctuary of my little bubble of existence in front of the computer where most times my mind stays too busy to sneeze or feel miserable. All my problems seem to slip away temporarily. If it weren't for having to tend to a toddler every couple of minutes, I might forget to eat or go to the bathroom! I might actually finish blog posts instead of starting and stopping and forgetting what I originally intended to write about.

So, anyhow, I'm grumpy because when he sleeps in bed with us — he sleeps — we don't. He's a bedhog.

There is a foot in my face, an arm across my neck, another hand tangled in Daddy's hair.

A couple of times now, I've been successful at moving him to the pack-n-play after he's fallen asleep when I can't take it anymore. We've moved the pack-n-play back into our bedroom to get it out of the living room. Normally it's reserved for time outs. He doesn't seem to have a problem sleeping in it with his pillow and blanket because I think he just likes being near us. Sometimes I've even been able to put him back in his own bed, but nothing is consistent.

For as grumpy as I am though, I love this little boy more than words can express. I kiss him and hug him constantly. Which, by the way, is why I don't wear lipstick hardly ever anymore. It always gets kissed off! He lets me snuggle him, but since he's a toddler, you know how they are about their body buffer of space. So, I suppose being tired is the tradeoff for being able to snuggle him more while he's sleeping because he doesn't squirm then.

Every night he sleeps with us, I always hug him and kiss him and tell him what an extremely loved little boy he is and how lucky we all are to be together as a family in the same bed. Afterall, it's only temporary and other people aren't as fortunate.

Us and Them

During our travels across this big country and in to different states across the U.S.A., I've witnessed my son interact with people from many different walks of life. Old, young and in between; different ethnic and cultural backgrounds to people who look and sound just like us. (If you met my mom or dad, you'd know what I mean. I couldn't give my mom away if I tried. I'm her clone.)

In the two short years since Lucian has come into this world, he has seen more places than I've seen in all my life before my late twenties. I love the fact that my husband and I can provide for these experiences and it gives me great joy to know I can share these memories with him in the future too. (If only I could stick to writing about it more!)

I have a fond memory of us all riding the T in Boston on the evening of the Fourth of July. It was a very busy night as you can imagine. The trains were very full and people were crammed in wherever they could find standing room. Even though Lucian can walk, his little legs get tired very easily, especially in a big city like Boston, so we transported him in an umbrella stroller. That night on the train there were several other families with the same compact umbrellas. One group of people that stood out in my mind in particular was a Hindi family who all dressed in their beautiful and colorful garments. They had a little daughter that looked to be around Lucian's age and she was sitting across from Lucian in her own umbrella stroller.

It was such a delight to watch my son engage in a conversation of "baby talk" with this little girl. There was something so awesome about the way they were talking to each other in their strollers and it made everyone around them smile. It was great entertainment to watch as we all traveled to our destinations all cramped together in a confined space. There was something so pleasing about the way we as parents smiled at each other while watching our children play so happily together.

It was the Universal Language of Parenting.

Our son with his bright blond hair and his fair skin was dressed in denim jean shorts and a red T-shirt with a red, white and blue flag. He was wearing his blue, plastic knock-off Crocs on his feet and his silver bracelet on his wrist. (He never takes it off. It was his Daddy's when he was Lucian's age so it's a family heirloom. People always ask about it.) The little Hindi girl was dressed in a beautiful, bright pink sarong. I think I remember she also wore some type of jewelry and a bindi on her little forehead. The pink color really complimented her dark skin. She was just a most beautiful little girl.

This is a very colorful memory for me. Not just because of the difference in skin color or ethnicity, but the way the children interacted with each other. It was a beautiful moment that I was glad to be a part of. It was very fitting for the evening of the Fourth of July.

It was an American moment.

Yesterday Lucian and I walked to the local park just a few blocks from our home. I love taking him to the park to play. I really enjoy watching him explore and climb. My heart melts when I watch him interact with people and he seems to be a magnet for affection and smiles wherever we go. What I really love most is witnessing the innocent, unprejudiced, unbiased view that this little boy has for his surroundings and I can only hope he stays this way for a long, long time.

Is forever too much to ask?

Yesterday I got to share another colorful moment with my son because the people were different from us, but in a special way. Some of them were mentally disabled and some were both physically challenged as well. There were two different groups each with a set of caregivers. They looked to be having a really good time at the park. The caregivers were trying to take their pictures and get them to smile. All of that struggle seemed to get a whole lot easier as soon as Lucian arrived.

There was one woman in particular who was very affected by Lucian. She was a frail and elderly African American woman and it appeared she has some mild form of Parkinson's Disease. She squealed with delight while reaching out her finger in a desperate attempt to touch my little boy. I didn't think she would try to harm him so I didn't get really defensive about the situation. I know from experience that sometimes mentally and physically disabled people have the potential to maybe squeeze too hard or lash out unexpectedly unaware of their strength so I stayed close, but just observed. Two caregivers were within hands' reach and I trusted them to know their consumers well and to react appropriately.

Lucian was a little cautious at first but very friendly and he slowly approached the woman and reached his hand out to touch her. She then became afraid and shied away from him and then it became a sort of game as he would walk away then she would pine for him to come closer. Other people in the group also came over to see what all the fuss was about. The women in the group especially were curious about this little boy joining their group. They all love babies and children no matter how far off the charts they might be with their mental abilities. One woman complimented me on how cute my son was. She repeated several of the words in her sentence over and over with lots of stammering but of course I could understand what she was saying and I thanked her for the compliment. Another woman kept saying Momma while rocking back and forth and an Aide was positively acknowledging her for her correct observation. "Yes, that's right, that's the little boy's Momma."

At the time we were there, it was just the groups of consumers (a term borrowed from my sister-in-law who is a caregiver for people who have disabilities.) and their Aides. There were no other children and parents like Lucian and I.

It was just us and them.

The word 'them' seemed to weigh so heavy on me each time I said it or thought it. I was at a bit of a loss as to how to communicate to my son about who these people were and what was different about 'them.'

One of the groups started gathering in a line to leave. There were some in wheelchairs and walkers and some walking with a limp or assistance to follow instructions for exiting the park. It started to look like a parade and when Lucian noticed this, he got right in line with them and began to follow along. The people in the line were waving goodbye to him and I instructed Lucian to wave too. "I said, go ahead, they're saying goodbye now, wave to them."

In his cute little toddler voice he squeaked out "Buh bye! buh bye! Sthee you sthoon! Sthee you sthoon!" (He has a bit of a lisp right now since he's still working on that sound.)

It was then that I realized that 'they' weren't really a 'them' anyhow. I didn't need to really explain anything about the people at the park. It made no difference to my little boy what kind of person someone is whether they are black, white, brown, purple, green or yellow — whether they can form complete sentences in a language we can understand or if they have only one leg or shake all over. It doesn't matter if the person is his age or older than dirt — as my grandmother would say. My little boy doesn't see skin color, age, mental or physical ability.

He just sees people.

If they smile and want to talk to him, he reciprocates that back.

It's the Universal Language of Kindness — one of the many lessons we can learn from children.

Cat Got Your Tongue? A Mouse Ate My Mic!

There's a mouse in our house.
I found out the hard way that it has an appetite for technology. I've now learned the lesson that it's *not* a good idea to leave snacks in your gear bag when there's a mouse in the house.



The price I paid was losing a $30.00 Plantronics .Audio 650 USB Headset. I'm really ticked off right now because it was a great headset with built-in mic that enabled me to record good, quality sound for podcasting. It also came in real handy for joining in on public talkcasts.



A mouse got into my gear bag and while snacking on a granola bar I had mistakenly left in the bottom of the main compartment, he decided to chew on a few other cables for desert. Along with the Plantronics headset mic, the it also snacked on an iPod cable as well. I've since inspected all of the other cables in the bag and luckily, those seem to be the only casualties of the mouse's appetite.

I guess you could say he has good taste, right?




What makes me even more mad is that I usually keep my gear bag very organized and while I do travel with snacks, I usually keep them in a different compartment. If I had put the granola bar in the other zippered pouch like I normally do, instead of tossing it into the larger compartment in a hurry, the mouse might not have chewed the other cables that happened to be close in proximity to the granola bar. It's hard to tell though because this was one hungry mouse. It also chewed a little U-shaped mouse hole (think Tom & Jerry) in the cardboard inside the fabric divider.



I'll have to replace my headset mic and won't be able to do any quality recording until I do. I'll need to check with my insurance company before I go shopping just to see if it might be covered.

We have had trouble with mice in years past but never was there any damage except for some half-eaten boxes of food in our pantry. We've since learned to keep any and all dried or loose food items inside plastic storage containers. I never thought my gear bag would be a target, but now I know better than to keep anything in it that might attract a mouse, like any type of food. It's just like adding bait to a cluster of cables. Who knew cables would also be so yummy to a mouse?

Un-freaking-believable.



I took some photos of the damage. While I was taking photos, I started thinking more and more about taking photos of ALL of my gear to document everything for insurance purposes. I started photographing everything but had to take a break and post this in the mean time. I plan on doing another meme post of "What's in your bag" to detail all the gear with which I travel. It will serve as a good documentation for insurance in case anything else should ever happen to other items.

If there is any humor in this at all, it's the fact that Nate and I were, just the other day, discussing how we recently increased our insurance policy on our computers and gear before we went on our road trip. Nate said that when they explained the additional coverage over the phone, they listed the weirdest things that were covered. Damage done by rats was one of the things on the list. I'll have to check with the insurance company now because I'm sure that the deductible will be higher than the cost of the headphones and iPod cable, but who knows. Maybe I'll get lucky and it will be covered somehow and I can get them replaced.

Wish me luck!
(Wish the mouse luck he doesn't get caught!)

hi friends, hi family

Just some morning greetings from Lucian and I to tell you that we love you and are thinking of you from far away. Hugs to you from us!

hello friends and familyLucian and I saying hello to friends and family :)

P.S.
These are the times I'm reminded why I do what I do even though it frustrates me. A kiss and an "I love you" makes it all worthwhile even if for only a moment in time. I'll take it.

Up all night sleep all day

Just me rambling about what's new with me and what's eating me lately. I'm not particularly happy about my current situation and I'm trying to be honest with myself about it. I'm struggling with what decisions are best for myself and my reputation along with my sanity. It's a recipe for stress.

Up all night sleep all dayjust me rambling about what's eating me lately, trying to get it off my chest

what's happenin

Nothing to see here. LOL Just a little vlog for friends & family. (FYI, this post is PG-13 rated. Sorry about a little bit of language. I'll think more about that next time or try to keep warning you beforehand so you can make the appropriate choice as to whether or not to view this around the kids.) Come say hi by leaving a video response of your own. Lucian and I would love to see you!

what's happeninjust me rambling to friends & family a little bit about what's happening in our life right now

Does Blogging Keep You Honest?

"Hello blogger, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again..."

I'm still here. Just so you know, but I'm just swimming in a surplus of thoughts right now. It's hard to describe, but I'll try. It's not that I have nothing to say, but exactly the opposite. I have so freaking much to write about that I'm just overwhelmed. I keep getting distracted. I keep reading other blogs which in turn inspire me to write about so many different thoughts and ideas that I just don't know where to start.

I so totally wish I could write short and sweet little posts. I wish I could fragment my thoughts and ideas to make it quicker and easier to digest. I admire people who can keep it short and sweet. It actually takes me so much longer to write a post because I keep editing the hell out of it to make it shorter. And then look what happens. You see how much you need to scroll to get to the bottom of it and then all of the sudden, reading a single post becomes a rock climbing adventure where you're afraid to look down.

I keep starting posts and then not finishing them because something else just gets in the way. (Just to name a few: the end of nap time, bodily functions, interruptions while performing bodily functions (you know — toddler follows you into the bathroom/toddler doesn't follow you into the bathroom - damned if you do, damned if you don't kind of thing), sleeping (in increased efforts to combat my insomnia), housework, billable hours for clients, increased efforts to spend time with the Hubby because a sibling for Lucian just isn't going to make itself, and I read somewhere that you can't get pregnant by kissing, ahem, and the list goes on. ad nauseam. I think you get the idea.

[See, that was totally unnecessary and I could have just deleted it, but then that wouldn't be me. It would be what I think me should be, so, I left it in.]

Some smartass once said "If you have nothing nice to say then don't say anything at all." Many times that phrase just prevents me from writing. It also prevents me from being honest and purging posting any feelings and thoughts I originally intended to host on this blog for posterity. That frustrates me a lot. I've been so tempted to create another more private blog just so I can rant about really personal things that eat at me, like family issues, frustrations in my marriage, or people who drive me nuts because I think they are fake.

Then again, what would be the point. Would I really gain anything from writing about it? Would it really matter if I just left out the fact that sometimes my family members aggravate the hell out of me? Doesn't that happen to everyone? Would I really want to read about it in the future? Worse yet, would I really want a family member or friend to read it? Does it enhance my blog any more by complaining about certain family members or friends? Some people's blogs thrive on that subject matter and I really admire the brass balls of some of them. I personally think it's all the stuff of what sitcoms were made for. Negativity just gets so much press, so why should I add to the problem when I can be part of the solution. Maybe I'll just try to remember that and move on with life and save my repetitive stress-injured typing cramps for something more worthwhile or productive – to me that is.

You know what else drives me nuts?

• A lot is two words.

• My English teacher said, "Commas and periods belong inside of the quotation marks." I was taught English in the United States. Were you?

Ok, I feel much better now.

I ask myself these questions a lot lately: Does blogging keep you honest? What is your definition of honesty? For whom are you being honest? Yourself? Your readers? Why do you pay any attention to your readers?
The answer lies in who I think those readers are.

I began this blog with the intent that "my" readers were comprised of a couple of close friends I've known for years before I even knew what a blog was and a couple more friends I made online after I found out what a blog and bloggers were. I also thought it would be a great way to connect with family members since I live so far away from them. I told my parents about my blog and even a couple of family members (only after having to explain what the hell a blog is). Then I figured that they just weren't interested and weren't reading it since I got no feedback from them on it whatsoever.

So, I started writing about stuff I thought other people might enjoy. I started to seek out others who share my same passions for technology and how I combine it with my adventures in being a new parent. I really enjoy writing about those topics and I also love getting feedback on it because I learn even more that way.

Basically what I'm trying to say now anymore is that I struggle with being honest with myself and keeping my blog what I want it to be.

I've noticed that I've picked up some readership recently. (The 10 people I thought read my blog once in a while have now mysteriously turned into 46! Maybe something is broken in feedburner?) While it humbles me that people would actually subscribe to my blog, I really hope that they are reading more than just the current post because I'm not always sweet and sunny. Sometimes the closet door creeks open and the darkness creeps out. The skeletons giggle, I hear them, mocking me. It's not easy going from bikers to big wheels. It's a constant struggle to be positive and honest about myself, my past, present and what I hope for my future.

Here is a to do list of personal issues I'm working on writing about:
• my road trip home and back
• being home and the vacation from the vacation
• time spent with family and friends
• things that annoyed me about time spent with family and friends that I'll have to find a delicate way of explaining so no one takes offense
• my weight and how much it pisses me off right now
• what I'm doing about my weight and my progress thus far
• how I manage to annoy myself, my husband and my family about my need to document everything in our lives

Here is a to do list of fun techno-geeky goodness I can't wait to blog about but need to research and prepare more so it looks nice (translation: I'm a miserable perfectionist):
• my trip to the Boylston Street Apple Store (with cool video clips I need to edit first)
• my recent revamp of my son's tangerine iMac in his room
• updates on my adventures in toddler-proofing my Mac & my review of the iSkin keyboard cover (waiting for the screen cover to be delivered in the mail)
• how and why I torture myself with iCal reminders (3 just popped up while typing the last line indicating this post is already way longer than I intended it to be and I so hope it makes it live and out of the drafts folder)
• ok, so maybe I can just cross that one off the list
• I forgot what the next list item was going to be, shit
• oh yeah, Front Row and how much of a crowd-pleaser it was while visiting with family and friends
• my new method for organizing movies to show in Front Row
• a totally kick-butt review of AlphaBaby (one of my most favorite apps for kids)
• how we survived our cross-country road trip using technolog: what did we use and how did we use it
• what WAS in my bag: what I packed vs what I actually used
• even more stuff that I thought about last night but have forgotten right now but will remember later while taking a shower

So, I'm pressing the publish button now before this ends up back in the drafts folder!
No more editing! I'm here and I'll keep writing after I get out of my procrastination funk.

Funk

I can't sleep. That's nothing new.

Maybe it's because we watched Juno earlier in the evening and it set me off emotionally, I'm not sure. (Great chick flick, by the way.) All I know is I'm in a funk and I just don't know what to make of it. My baby boy turned two years old last week and it's been a harsh reality check. Of course I'm delighted that he had a birthday and that he's even lived this long while having me as a parent! Do I get token coins and tickets for any of that? I think I should at least win a free game or two of skee-ball or somethin! I plan on blogging about his birthday party soon (since it was a really great time), but I'm currently a little overwhelmed with our vacation here in Boston, not to mention all of the pictures and video footage I still need to sift through.

I have so much I want to blog about, but I'm trying to force myself to be a little more analog these days. I suppose what really sticks to my brain will make it to my blog. Should be interesting to see what wins out in the process.

Anyhow, something is bugging me and I just need to get it off of my chest while I await the tylenol pm to friggin kick in already! (I'm going to be worthless in a few hours from now when we're supposed to think about going downtown.)

This time two years ago we were in the throws of the hell that is new parenthood. We had just come home from the hospital on the 4th of July after the alien invasion, also known as a Cesarean section, also known as, to most people besides me, giving birth. I would have settled for the anal probe, seriously, if I would have had a choice. Anything would have been better than a C-section. It sucked and I needed anti-depressants to deal with it all. Someday I'll write what I hope might be a therapeutic blog about that and hope to hell no one reads it for fear the human race will end and it will be all my fault because I blogged about where some babies comes from.

Speaking of which, I am now wishing I'd never stopped taking the anti-depressants. I keep telling myself that when we get back from traveling, I need to make an appointment with a shrinky dink. I can't stand feeling this way anymore and putting my poor, patient husband through it either.



I think it's separation anxiety. Maybe it's just anxiety. All I know is I'm messed up when it comes to being with my child these days. I know what is normal, I minored in psych for crying out loud (which is what I feel like doing lately.) But, like the dude in Juno said, well, sort of in this way "I know I'm prepared. I just don't know that I'm ready."

I don't know that I'm ready for my son to be a kid and not a baby anymore. I know I don't have a choice. My heart hurts when I think about him. When he's awake, I can't wait till it's time for him to sleep. When he's sleeping, I can't wait for him to wake up. And need me.

This is the part where all the other sane people go, "you're kidding me, right?!"

I just want him to need me. ME. Not anyone else.
ME.
M.O.M.
I just want to be needed. Hugged. Cuddled. Kissed.

Lately, only Daddy will do. Lucian could care less if I'm around. He cries in his sleep sometimes calling for his Dadda. He even signs Dadda in his sleep while calling for him. Whenever I try to comfort him, he wiggles away from me and wants Dadda. I can't blame him. I want his Dadda too. (for different reasons though)



I miss my baby boy. When he was born, everyone else got to hold him, meet him, touch him, bond with him, fall in love with him — all before I did. I am very very bitter about having to have a Cesarian. I have yet to forgive myself for going back to work full time for almost the first year of his life. I'll never get that time back and I spin my wheels trying to make up for it.



Sometimes I wonder if he doesn't want to be close to me because he feels I abandoned him. I know that's silly talk, but this is just one of the irrational thoughts in my head lately.

We've been in Boston visiting family this whole week and it's been a little torturous on the anxiety issue. My inlaws probably think I'm a major bitch right about now and probably can not wait till I leave. They would probably have a much easier time if it was just Nate and Lucian spending the time here. I'm certain I complicate everything, but they have no idea of the constant struggles I face mentally when it comes to being here with a young child for the first time. I think maybe this trip is beginning to highlight some things for me which I hope might help me to explain things better to a therpist in the near future.

Not sure if you know this or not, but Boston is a huge freakin city. There are crazy drivers in fast cars, major traffic, everything is high up and close together. There are lots of screechy trains and tracks and people. Lots of people.

In my irrational head: they are all out to get my child. Every time I have to push the stupid umbrella stroller that we borrowed from my sister over train tracks, I have a mini panic attack. I have these mini nightmares that the wheels get stuck just as the T train starts to approach us.

You don't know how close I was to making Nate take us to the nearest baby store and purchase an expensive Jeep stroller with big chunky wheels.

But, we are simple people and that just would not be practical for us, nor our budget. So I suffer and scream inside each time the wheels hit a snag in the road as we walk every-freakin-where in this huge city.

I now know why I've put on so much weight and can't seem to keep it off. My survival plan does not involve climbing three flights of stairs each any every time I want to enter my home. It also doesn't involve walking several blocks to get to a train and then walking several more blocks to go somewhere else, all while toting a child and a backpack filled with everything you might need for several hours out and about. It just doesn't and when I try to keep up with the fast-paced lifestyle here, I feel like a complete failure.

It doesn't help matters that Lucian wants nothing to do with me most times and then his aunt and uncle want to spend time with him and care for him the way THEY see best. Nevermind what I think should happen, my opinion doesn't matter here. I'm just the crazy woman who wants her child on a leash while waking into town so that he doesn't wiggle himself loose and dart out into traffic.

Anyhow, I guess the tylenol pm is starting to kick in because I've now sat here a couple of times watching the cursor blink.

Part of me thinks I may regret writing this post. The other part of me, the part that is finally getting tired, just doesn't give a rat's ass. Now if only I could be this mellow when leaving my child to go play at the park with another relative that isn't myself or his father, I think life would be a little kinder to me and my emotions.

Girl Effect

A noun. A verb. Words meet people. People meet actions. Actions make change. Change affects us. Will you be affected? Will you make change happen?

I helped. I shared. I may do more but I will not do less.

Butterfly kisses to you.

Feedback: Some Technology Frustrations

And when I say some, I really mean just a few.

I recently wrote a response to a blog post by PurpleCar and I wanted to share it on my own blog because I would like to keep this conversation rolling. I'd also like to know what you think about this topic. I'm actually planning on meeting Christine in person sometime soon, so this will give us something to gab about. (Not like we need any help though!) ;)

Christine asked what frustrates us about the early adoption of certain technologies. She was posting about the perceived risks of using new technologies like QIK and or other cell phone recordings or any personal recordings for that matter when it comes to meetings with teachers. I thought it was (as with most of her posts) an thought-provoking question that deserves more light on the subject.

Here is my response:

A couple of things frustrate me, so thanks to (Christine Cavalier, a.k.a PurpleCar) for posting this place to put them :)

1.) Keeping up with it all! It's so difficult on a single income. I do my best and try not to complain and be patient when it comes to the free stuff on the web.

2.) Altered expectations. If you always get back to everyone right away, they grow to expect that from you and it can create more problems for yourself in the long run as you take on more and more because you think the technology makes things easier for you. It can be a bit of an illusion at times.

{edit:} [That came off wrong.] What I mean is: keep reasonable expectations reasonable. Of course you should always respond to people right away, as in as soon as possible, not as soon as inhumanely possible. Just because technology enables us to communicate faster, priorities still need to be set when it comes to communication combined with other tasks. I've made mistakes in the past (and probably still will) where I ended up addressing one person's needs and inadvertently ignoring others because I created unrealistic expectations while trying to impress someone that didn't really need to be impressed. I ended up becoming perceived as being "unavailable" and "unapproachable" when that was the opposite of how I wanted to be viewed.

It sucked and I got burnt out quickly because of it.

Burnout sucks and should be avoided at all costs.

3.) Technology as it applies to education: Case in point: my husband, as you know, is a h.s. physics teacher and he has the task of answering emails from parents. Many times this has to be done outside of the "office" since there is just not enough time during "normal working hours" – or whatever that means. Teachers' plates are already so full and the amount of "early adoption" technology without support that gets shoved down their throats on a regular basis is disturbing. (I've seen both sides – married to one side, been tech support on the other side)

{edit} [when it comes to questions asked and email requests] Some of the parents can be really irrational and overly-demanding, but it's better than the parents who are not involved at all. Many times parents & students forget that teachers are also people with lives and families that exist outside of school so the "what's my grade?! Am I passing this class? Why won't you do all the thinking for me?" demands get exhausting.

{will report on the following "weigh-in" later when I find out what he has to say about this}

Hubby is asleep, but I plan on asking him what he would think about parents using the kind of technology you describe. I'm wondering what his answer might be, but I know from previous examples he's given me, I'm sure he, as a teacher, would welcome it and try to facilitate involved parents like yourselves. Too many times, it's the lack of any participation, whether low-tech, high tech or no tech at all; that is a huge problem in this day and age.

I think so far as the privacy issues are concerned though, it is completely up to the parents' discretion. Teachers and Admins are (or are supposed to be) completely transparent for the most part. Nothing to hide. Privacy on the part of the student is mostly provided by the school on the parents' behalf as I understand it, but I'm with you on keeping it private for those kinds of meetings.

So long as the technology does not cause any impediments on the communication from the teacher/admin to the parent(s), i.e., "oh wait, can you repeat that, my stream died. Oh wait, hold on, we lost the connection. Can we go back? Uh, hold on, it's buffering." then, the teacher/admin should feel perfectly comfortable in front of a camera. They are not supposed to ever have anything to hide and are constantly tested on performing in front of anyone as it were. Anyone at any time is allowed to observe a teacher so they are always on their game.

There should not ever exist any kind of sugar-coating on behalf of the teacher and if you detect there is, then there is a problem and it needs to be addressed. That person should be a politician and not a teacher.

Logo Tweak

It's been bugging me for a while now, so I've decided to tweak my logo. I haven't yet ordered business cards and my website and blog is only beginning to get some traffic, so I figure now is the time. There was just something about the space in between the 'T' and the 'he' in the 'The' that I didn't like. Plus, The top of the 'T' kind of reminds me of a tree top. So, to keep with the whole apple, apple tree, apple seeds = learning symbolism (which also works nicely with Apple products for which I am a major cheerleader), I decided to make the top arm of the 'T' green to reflect that feeling. I also decided to extend the 'Y' at the end of Mommy to make it more prominent. Lately as I've been giving out my email address, the question I always get is a rather silly one "that's mommy with a 'Y', right?" Well, I suppose you could spell Mommy with 'IE' as in Mommie, but that's just awkward, isn't it? Stranger things have happened. The other reason I wanted to tweak the 'The' was to make it a little more prominent as well since it's very important that the article 'The' be recognized or else you'll get the wrong Mommy on the internet. (just plain old macmommy was already spoken for in various forms from screen names to email and web address, so that's why I chose to put The in front of it, not because I'm a conceited know it all. I know about as much as any other Mommy knows out there so, and Mommy knows best, so take that however you want to.)

So here are the results. I'm just going to update my blog and take some time to reflect on it before updating my website and Twitter pages. I want to see if it grows on me. (I think the seeds still need some refining.) I'm really not super crazy about using red and green either, but it just works so well with the contrast. Green is very techie and the deep red is passionate, warm and highly visible. The two colors together are organic looking which is such a contrast to the technology I use. It also works because it goes with my philosophy of uniting people with technology. Well, I hope the new logo will be liked by others even though it's me who has to live with it.

New Logo:Old Logo:


[Edit] I've decided to edit this post to add a few more details about the logo design just because I'm waiting for 200 photos to finish uploading and can't really work on the next project till they are done.

Another subject I want to note in this post is about the fonts I chose to use. 'The' and '.com' as well as the tagline are set in Bossa Nova Plain. Bossa Nova is a highly stylized font so I don't intend to use it for much else except for maybe an accent in type design on other pieces. 'MacMommy' is set using Tekton Pro Bold. I had considered other fonts for this like Chalkboard, Marker Felt and dare I say even Comic Sans.

I couldn't bring myself to use Comic Sans though because I have a thing against M$ and that is a M$ font. It just wouldn't be true to my Mac roots if I used it for my logo design. In my warped little mind, it feels almost sac religious to use it in any design when I'm discussing the Macintosh platform. The only reason I even considered it is because it's a very popular font among those in the teaching field. I do currently use Comic Sans as the text font on my website only because it's readily available on PC and Mac so the chances of having it load properly to view as I intended it are high. My intended target audience for that website is really parents and educators and so Comic Sans is a font their eye is accustomed to viewing when it relates to an educational resource. I don't have too much of a problem using it for body copy or even my email signature because it is cross-platform, but for my logo or something that I personally identify with, no, I won't use it.

There is a time and place for certain fonts. Different fonts are appropriate for different pieces of a design. Some function better than others and some flow with a theme better. Overall, readability is my main concern.

I decided to go with Tekton ultimately because it was a more technical looking font yet still has an organic feel to it. (Makes sense since it was originally created for use with architectural design.) The original Tekton family as well as the newer Adobe Tekton Pro release shows promise and expandability for using it with larger amounts of body copy or text since there are several weights available. I'm still experimenting with different fonts for larger amounts of text, so the colophon is still in development.

Keep a Living Thing Alive

I had an experience with my toddler a little while ago that I don't want to forget. Bear with me while I get my head around this.



Normally, I try to preserve a memento, like a flower, by placing it into wax paper and inserting it into the middle of my trusty old American Heritage Dictionary. Thinking about this task led me to contemplate how other experiences in life relate to this process. Even though I can not preserve this particular memory of an experience with my son in a physical and tangible form such as that of a pressed flower, the mental process is similar when I decide to write about a certain topic. The ultimate goal is still the preservation of youth and wisdom gained through hindsight.

Definitively Divine?
When it comes to preserving a memento, a dictionary makes a nice place to stash articles and for good flower pressings because there is so much weight in between the pages. My dictionary is no ordinary book, however. It is a special gift I received when I was a child and I never realized just how special it is until recently.

I'm not sure about traditions in other schools, but when I attended elementary school in the eighties, back in southeastern Pennsylvania, a little ceremony took place when you reached the end of the sixth grade. At this ceremony, you received a gift. It was an American Heritage Dictionary signed by all of your teachers past and present. Before school was over, this dictionary served as a sort of year book that got passed around and signed by all of your classmates as well. Of course, we also spent time giggling while trying to see how many bad words we could find in it. That was always a fun pastime. Getting your dictionary signed and signing your friends' dictionaries was a big deal at the tender age of twelve.

Receiving this gift of the dictionary was a bittersweet and significant event for us even though we could not fully comprehend it. The event represented the end of a large portion of our childhood while signaling the beginning of an exciting new phase: junior high. It was uncertain if you would keep the close friends you had while attending elementary school and the future was uncertain when it came to thinking about making new friends in a much larger fish bowl. We all knew it and we had mixed feelings about it. We could not quite grasp the concept at the time, but receiving this gift also meant not only that we were old enough to have our very own dictionary but also that we had now been given the responsibility for becoming resourceful on our own.

Pulling Teeth
It was really difficult for me to transition from elementary school to junior high because my school was like a big family to me. Parents knew each other and they knew the school staff. Everyone knew everyone. My Mom sold Avon to just about everyone from the lunch ladies to the School Secretary, Mrs. Wert. The Lunch Cashier I remember everyone else called her Mrs. So-in-So, but I knew her real name was Kitty. She wore lots of blue eyeshadow.

My elementary school was a very small school compared to others in the district. Only first through sixth grades were taught and there was only one teacher for each grade for all of the subjects. The only teachers who taught different subjects were the Music, Art and Gym teachers. Other memorable characters included the School Nurse, Librarian and Lunch Aides. Mrs. Amadio, one of the Lunch Ladies, pulled one of my loose teeth out with a sandwich baggie. I'll never forget that. "Mrs. Amadio, look at my loose tooth!" I said and then proceeded to proudly wiggle it for her. She said, "Oh, let me take a closer look" as she reached down onto my lunch tray and put her hand inside of a plastic sandwich baggie and gripped onto my tooth and pulled it out of my mouth. I just stood there in shock.

Don't ever show a loose tooth to an old Italian woman. She will pull it out without asking you!

I say this because my Mother's Godmother, Mrs. Giamo, was another woman who pulled out a loose tooth of mine without asking. It all happened so fast. All I remember was a huge wad of scented tissue stuffed into my mouth and seconds later she was holding my bicuspid.

I forgave them though. Years later, Mrs. Amadio did the alterations on my senior prom gown. MomMom, as we call her, she taught me how to apply lipstick the proper way. I always looked forward to visiting her when I was young because she would pull out one of those teeny, tiny little Avon lipstick samples and give me one; despite the fact that my Mother had hundreds of them at home. She just turned 94 I think. Happy Belated Birthday, MomMom.

I was fortunate enough to have attended the same school district from kindergarten on up through high school. If you asked me, I could tell you all of the names of all of the teachers I had for each of the grades one through six as well as a couple of my junior and senior classes. I could even tell you the name of the Elementary School Librarian – Mrs. Siler.

One other fond memory I have was when I was in the first grade, our teacher, Miss Nigreli, invited us all to her wedding. She was one of the most beautiful brides I have ever laid eyes on. Even more pretty than Laura when Luke and Laura got married on General Hospital. It was a huge and long Catholic wedding. I'll never forget watching her pray for children. She had so many children at her wedding (her whole first grade class and then some) and it left such an impression on me. (It's one of the reasons why I wanted to have many children at my own wedding.) After her wedding, she was called Mrs. Patrizi. I was so excited to learn about the difference between Miss and Mrs. and had fun relating this new concept to my dolls and the little boy named Eddie I had a crush on who lived up the street. I had many crushes on different boys throughout the years.

Sign of the Times
Of all of these childhood memories though, I still have to say that getting my sixth grade dictionary signed and crossing that threshold was one of the most profound. This is where the importance of the dictionary is prevalent for inside the index page of the back cover is a note and a signature penned by a boy named Josh. I had a huge crush on him during our sixth grade year. When he signed my dictionary, it meant the world to me. I used to look at it a lot after he signed it. I used to trace my fingertips over the pen outline and study the words he wrote, "To a very good freind I met this year! Good Luck! Josh" He wrote "very" which completely overshadowed the fact that he misspelled 'friend.' The adjective very gave me hope that maybe he liked me too. Of course, junior high came and we went our separate ways and made new friends and discovered new crushes while still keeping ties with our original sixth grade base of friends.

Unfortunately, nothing could have prepared me for what happened in the next few school years. Just three years after signing my sixth grade dictionary, Josh died. We were only fifteen (+/-). It was one of the most difficult things I have ever endured, seeing the lifeless body of a fellow classmate laying in a casket. A funeral for a young friend is no place to be. It's just not the natural order of things. I remember watching his face so intently waiting for the joke to be over. He never woke up. I remember all but passing out into another friend's arms as I turned away from the casket. (Thank you Chris Y. for being there to catch me and for hugging me so hard.)

The fact that Josh's signature is in the back of this book, I think, has something to do with the reason why I use this particular book to press funeral flowers. Ironically, as I think back now, there have been a couple of young people who's funeral flowers I've pressed in between the pages of that dictionary. I think until now, it's been a subconscious way of somehow preserving a piece of someone's youth even though it was lost to death. Death for me at least defines the end of someone's physical life but the beginning of an eternal memory and when a young person dies, they stay young forever. I can't help but thinking that some tiny part of Josh's youth and life, represented in his little note to me and signature, is frozen and preserved in time just like a pressed flower.

So, I guess this proves that my brain has some pretty amazing memory capacity after all. That and the fact that I am super good at digressing.

Insert classic soap opera fade back to present time short term memoryville complete with harp music.

Life in the Hands of a Toddler
Let me tell you a story about a little boy and a Mother's quest to keep a living thing alive. It was a nice and sunny day that lent itself to turning off the thermostat and leaving the front door open to let the sunshine in. We have a metal screen (security door) in front of our wooden front door. There is a gap in between the bottom of this door and the threshold. Sometimes little tiny beetles sneak up through this crack and sun themselves on the concrete step to our front door. This is not a wise thing to do when there is a curious toddler lurking about.

I was cleaning the house and doing some vacuuming when I noticed my son was fixated on something at the front door. I went over to investigate. He had discovered this little black beetle and was trying to play with it. So, I decided to stop what I was doing and help him discover his first bug.

It was strange at first because I have this built in bug fear reflex and I had to find a way to get over that for this moment because I wanted my son to explore the bug and learn about it. I wanted to embrace the moment and share the experience with him. (Plus I would rather he not eat the poor thing!) This meant picking it up myself and feeling it's tiny little legs wiggle against my fingerprints. I remember thinking to myself, here we go, this is what mothering a boy is all about. Bring on the mud pies and slimy frogs. This is now the beginning of life for a little boy.

I watched proudly at how fascinated my son had become with this tiny little living thing. It would crawl and scamper up and down his arm and then drop and trace the chubby contours of his little leg and thigh. Then, with his pincer grasp perfected, he would pick up the bug between his chubby little thumb and finger. I watched in horror and grimaced at the thought of him crushing his new little friend to death there by ending the game sooner than it had began. There was one problem, however. This particular bug was good at playing dead. The more the bug did not respond, the more my son was adamant for getting the bug to cooperate. He was pinching the bug harder and kept dropping it and getting frustrated with it.

One of the most awkward things for me as a Mother to deal with during this experience was knowing that death could very well be imminent for this little creature. All of the sudden I felt this enormous pressure to try and do the right thing. But, what was the right thing? Was it ok to just allow my son to explore this little bug even if it meant squishing it and killing it unknowingly? All of the sudden I realized that I might have to soon give my son his first lesson in what it means when a living thing dies. How was I going to explain this concept to a little person who has only been alive himself for 19 months?

Of course I understand that the ability to comprehend death of a living thing for my young son is way off in the future, but this whole experience with the bug made it such a reality for me. It dawned on me that I am now responsible for teaching my son about life and death. How will I deal with this when the time comes? Do I purposefully allow him to kill the bug to introduce the concept? I have no problem with killing a big, nasty, roach-looking water bug I find in the bathroom at 3 am. (Well, actually I do, I usually scream and make Hubby kill it if he's available.) So why would I have any qualms about letting him mishandle this little black beetle?

I guess it's because I see my young son as so pure and innocent and incapable of inflicting harm on anything. That is my definition of him right now, but I see that definition is changing. It is not something I can preserve in the pages of my own childhood dictionary. He is growing and learning and exploring. His destiny is to create his own definition of himself. I have to accept that and it is not easy. I can not always protect him from the world. I can only teach him to be gentle and respectful of living things including his own life. I have the obligation as a parent to teach him that life is short and sometimes fragile. It's my job to teach him to respect life no matter what form it comes in, but also to realize that some living things are a danger to us and do need to be killed in defense. It makes me ache inside and I can not grasp the reality of what the Mother of a soldier must deal with when her child goes off to war.

I'm not sure what will happen when he learns that certain kinds of bugs scare Mommy and make her shriek and then Daddy comes to the rescue and kills the scary bug. I don't yet know how we'll explain this or the concept of death to him. Maybe I will have to look up words in my trusty old dictionary. Maybe I will have to open the back page and ask Josh for help to explain that sometimes living things die and we're not sure why.

All I know is the gift my teachers gave to me over 2 decades ago is the gift that keeps on giving. I did not realize before now that this dictionary serves as not only as a reference for words and meaning, but also a place to preserve memories and a resource for wisdom as well.

Sunday More or Less

Sunday Weigh-In Day
Finally! The scale has budged! Let's get the ugly part over with though, shall we? I now weigh 191 lbs. That's down a couple of lbs. from the last post so that's a good thing. I still don't have the motivation to "exercise" like I was but I have been controlling my eating habits a little more than last time. I know what I need to do to lose weight but it's so frustrating that I just don't have the will-power to actually hunker down and just do it and stick to it. I know that if I got more sleep, I would lose weight. I know that if I ate more protein and fiber I would lose weight. I know if I cut out the sugar, I would lose weight. I know, I know, I friggin know so why don't I do it?

“You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know." — Oscar Wilde

Is food really that addicting? I know it's a dumb question and I'm smart enough to know the answer. I know it's all about lifestyle change. I hate lifestyle changes just as much as the next person. I wish I could embrace it better. I've changed my life so much in the past decade that it just kind of makes me feel exhausted to change yet one more thing. Can't I just be good enough as I am? No, because the way I am is not good. I'm unhealthy. I know I can be improved. I've just lost track of what version this is. Melissa 30 point 3 build 030208? It's like I keep reinventing myself. Maybe that's why I'm so friggin tired all the time. It's like my old struggle to quit smoking years ago. Well, at least I can actually type that. Wow. I don't think I ever did that before. I'm feeling brave now so I'll just go with it.

Smoke and Mirrors
I used to smoke. I used to smoke a lot. I smoked for almost 15 years. I struggled with that addiction for so long and tried to quit several times. I wasn't just a casual smoker either although I was a bit of a closet smoker. There are many people who know me that probably never knew I smoked or would be shocked to find out about it. Oops, oh well. Get over it. I'm trying to.

“I can't go back to yesterday - because I was a different person then" — Lewis Carroll

It was something I was never proud of and tried my best to hide it as much as I could. I smoked menthol lights. There was even a time when I smoked regular old New Ports. Yuck. Well, thank God for interventions like getting pregnant. I hate to put it that way, but it's the truth. I so thought I was going to be one of those people who prepares for having a baby by losing weight and getting in shape and and changing for the better. But, it just wasn't me. After watching so many of my close friends struggle to conceive, I didn't want to focus so much on getting pregnant to the point of driving myself nuts with trying to conceive. I thought it was best to just go about life as normal and just assume that it wouldn't happen for a while. Well, I guess that plan worked because we got pregnant right away.

I absolutely hate to admit this, but I smoked for the first couple of weeks before I knew I was pregnant or sure. I was in denial for the longest time. Then when I did know, I still smoked very lightly and hated myself for it every day over a couple of weeks until I quit for good. I wish I could have just quit cold turkey, but I think the way I did do it was maybe better for the baby even though it all just sounds wrong. I basically cut down and weaned myself off of it gradually. I begged the OB for a prescription for one of those patch programs but she said that was worse for the baby than actually smoking. That blew my mind. They also said that while they strongly advised quitting was the best thing that going cold turkey might not be the best thing for me. I thought that was shocking advice as well, but it did make sense to me. I was afraid that if I just up and quit cold turkey that I might not stay quit. I had to do it for me, not just for the baby. So, I gradually cut down and basically went through a process until finally, I just said enough, I've done this for far too long, I had my fill, this is the last time and it's the first day of the rest of my life as a non-smoker. I haven't picked one up since.

It's a wonder my child is so healthy. I felt so guilty and worried about it in the beginning thinking I had damaged him. I'm just really thankful I had the sense to quit when I did and it was the best thing I ever did. Now my biggest fear is ever getting hooked on it again. I have serious doubts I would though because I'm so repulsed by it now. Some of my husband's family members smoke and if I even get a whiff of it, I try to grab Lucian and get him as far away from it as possible. I know I can't protect him from every danger out there, but right now, I just don't even like it that he sees someone smoking. I'm not sure what's the best way to deal with this, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.

There are times when it's a little sketchy though. It's one of the reasons why I rarely drink anymore. I used to smoke and drink casually with my husband and family and there are times when I really miss it. When I met my husband and got married, I had already toned it down a lot from before. Beer, wine and cigarettes just went so good together for me way back when. Back when I was putting myself through college and partying with bikers on the weekends. I used to ride motorcycles too. I actually took a course, passed and got my motorcycle license. (I passed it with colors if you count the black and blues from dropping the bike a couple of times! Tip, don't put your keys in your pocket and then land on that side.) I even had a 750 Virago with a purple gas tank that my ex fixed up for me. I think I drove it 2 or 3 times. It was too much bike for me though. I laid it down in a gravel parking lot once and that wasn't fun so I decided not to pursue being the driver and stuck to being the passenger. Then that ended when my ex totaled the bike on his way to work. That was also the beginning of the end of that relationship too, so it was all for the best.

Quitting smoking also plays a part in my struggle to get out and be social. I have no problem wanting to go on play dates – that's safe, but going out with some girlfriends for a drink is another story. I'm afraid of going to bars because I'm afraid I'll loosen up too much and make poor decisions like smoking so I just avoid it right now. It's been over 2 years since I quit smoking, but I still don't think I'm ready to be around alcohol and smokers at a public bar. It's probably just better that way. I'll stick to my computer habit, thankyouverymuch.

Time May Change Me, But I Can't Trace Time
Anyhow, I did manage to get a little more shuteye here and there, just a tiny bit. Alright, maybe I didn't, but I think about sleeping a lot more now. Lucian is starting to sleep a little more solid now that he's in his own room. There are still a couple of nights where he is restless and I know as soon as I try to nod off, he'll be awake and won't go back to sleep. So, part of my sleeping problem is still that I anticipate him waking as I want to go to sleep.

I think I've also discovered why I have so much energy at night instead of during the day. Of course, duh, because when the boys go to sleep, that is the only time of the day when I can work without distraction! I can actually get some house cleaning done, fit in some freelancing, blogging and other "me time" activities that I just can not do when Dr. Destructo (Lucian) is awake and on the loose. I get to feeling trapped in my own home sometimes because I have to stop what I'm trying to do either for myself or the house or the hubby and focus on the child. I know I should be grateful and this time will not last, but sometimes it's just a real challenge because I have to separate myself from things I want to do for me and for us and put it off for another time. I've been struggling with time management lately. I just admire other people who can really pull it off. I guess I just have to stop being so hard on myself and just realize that Rome was not built in a day in just let things go a little more.

I have also kept up with my water intake and this past week I've really tried hard to ramp up on protein and fiber. It seems to have worked so I hope I can keep riding this positive reinforcement. I'm thinking that maybe instead of beating myself up so much about not exercising, maybe what I need to do it try to lose a couple more pounds just with diet control and then maybe that will enable me to get more motivated to exercise more. I'm staying pretty active as much as I can. I've done a few house calls and work at the clinic. We've had some running around to do this past week and it involved getting up and out of the house crazy early, so that has helped out a lot too.

As for food, having deli meat and hard boiled eggs at the ready to snack on is helping too I think. My biggest weakness is the carbs. I'm part Italian, so I was raised on carbs. We had pasta every Sunday and lots of bread so I'm just so programmed to want to eat that way all the time. It is a real struggle for me to resist carbs when I want to snack. So, I've been trying to eat more meat in the process. It's not easy since I'm really not a big meat eater. I'm not a vegetarian, but I could live without red meat if I had to. Although I do love roast beef. I also need to concentrate on eating more frequently. I go too far in between without eating and I'm sure that is not good for my metabolism.

I'm also trying to be much more conscientious about the kind of food we keep in the home. This is a little difficult because Hubby likes to spoil us with his cooking and some of it can involve some very rich foods that might taste really really great, but they just aren't good for our waistlines. Since he does most of the cooking (and the grocery shopping), this is going to be a challenge. He likes to indulge in things and enables my bad habits without realizing it. (Hubby, are you reading this? I l love you, but you spoil me rotten sometimes!) Just last week, I resisted the urge to get tater tots like we normally do. I replaced them with veggies in one meal I cooked. Hubby wasn't too happy about it. I don't know if I'm cut out for this tough love thing. I think I'm going to suck at it. We'll see.

I said so. There. hmmmmm

Booger Patrol is Slacking Off
I even finally managed to take Lucian to our first 'play date!' That was pretty cool. I met another Mom from Myspace, of all places, and we finally got to calling each other and I went to her house for the first time. We've been exchanging letters and notes since last year, but I just haven't gotten motivated to call her and finally she called me and we chatted for a while. Then I was out running errands and decided to call her and see if she wanted to get together. She invited us to her place. It was cool, she's very easy going and her kids are adorable. Her house is not immaculate, so that made me relax about my house not being so perfect either. I now feel more comfortable and might invite her and her kids out to my place soon. The only problem is I don't have any yard toys yet.

The other issue I have is with Lucian's demeanor. My child is sooo mellow compared to other kids. And, I happen to LIKE IT THAT WAY! This new friend's kids are really energetic and I'm not yet sure how to act around them. Lucian played with them just fine. He wasn't shy at all. I just fear that he will start to get more and more aggressive as I start introducing him to playing with more and more kids. I'll start wondering where he learned how to hit or pinch or bite. Not looking forward to that at all.

There is also the germ factor that I'm not looking forward to. Every kid has a runny nose or crusty boogers it seems. Now that he's older and I can't get him to sit still for the Booger Police like I used to, he's got crusty boogers too. Lovely. My kid is now a snot-nosed brat. I wish it weren't true, but those boogers, they just seem to find their way of creeping out and hanging on. Since he's not as attached to my body as he used to be, the boogers seem to win more and more.
Why oh why has someone not invented a giant hamster ball for toddlers? Why? Is it really that hard? I mean, there could be a little door to put food in there and maybe mount a sippy cup in there. C'mon? What's the hold up here people? Look! They make one for big people!

Well, as usual, I am rambling. I know I had so many other things I wanted to post about, but those thoughts have also gone somewhere to die in my brain only to swim around later when I'm trying to fall asleep.

I know I want to blog more about technology and some of the projects I'm working on, but I'm just not ready post without doing a little more research first. I suppose I will just try to dream about it for the time being and hope to get the focus and motivation I need to post it sooner than later. Maybe I need to get me one of those giant hamster balls to run around in!

I think I'll end here with one more quote I really like. It kind of says it all to me without being and excuse to slack off either. It helps me to forgive myself when I'm just trying to do the right thing.

“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist." – Friedrich Nietzsche

Does This Blog Make My Butt Look Fat?

Whine and Cheese Go Together
Maaann (insert whine) is it Sunday already? Today kind of evaporated for me. I didn't even remember to weigh in this morning. For some reason it just didn't feel like a Sunday for me. Yep, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it! I'm not even going to grace this entry with a Sunday Weigh-In header or pic link. Just the thought of a scale pisses me off right now. Does that mean that this blog topic is counter-productive? I have been extremely unmotivated lately. I haven't been sticking to my dance-around-the-house-like-a-crazy-person routine. I've just felt too blah and achy lately.

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Husband
Part of the other problem has been Hubby's herniated disk flared up on him. I think it might be a result of the pressure he's under to take these damn 12 credit courses for NCLB. It's been putting a strain on our whole little family but we're doing the best we can to be supportive because that's what marriage and family is all about. So, I've had 2 boys to take care of. Not that Hubby can't take care of himself, but he's usually a real team player when it comes to keeping the house from total chaos to the point where I can't handle it, but with him being down and out this past week, the house kept throwing up on itself and I felt like it would never look livable again. Today we kicked some butt getting the kitchen cleaned, floors vacuumed and laundry put away. Yay for us! Such an accomplishment. Hubby is slowly getting back to being more functional but it's slow going and frustrating for everyone — especially him. He still can't drive so I'll have to take him to work and pick him up, but maybe it will get my ass out of the house. I wish I had more patience for him and it makes me even more frustrated that I don't because he has endless patience. I wish I could take care of him the way he's taken care of me.

The thing that really gets me down is that it all just shouldn't be so much of a challenge to keep the house in order or to want to care for my ailing husband more than I do. I just feel so tapped out lately. I should be able to do this all on my own without asking for help.

I should be able to vacuum wearing a plastic pearl necklace and high heels from Payless™ at the very least!

It just seems like it's a never ending vicious cycle and sometimes I just feel like I'd rather hide from the housecleaning and veg out on the computer every chance I get. Which is basically what I did last week. I just said to hell with the house, but after a while, I got sick of washing dirty dishes one at a time on an as needed basis. It also didn't help that the kitchen sink drain was clogged for 2 days and we couldn't run the dishwasher either. I was soooo tempted to use paper plates but I'm married to a science teacher, remember? That would not have been a very environmentally- nor economically-friendly decision now would it?

600 Pound Gorilla in Stirrups
I've been very anxious and angry lately. I went in for my yearly "lady checkup" need I say more. Well, that just made things worse. I was seen by a nurse practitioner whom I hadn't been seen by before. The one I really like was booked on the day I scheduled the appointment, but at the time I didn't care because you know, once you've had a baby, lady parts are lady parts and so many people (nurses, doctors, janitors, drummers — oh wait, that was back in high school) have seen them I don't care much anymore who does my annual exam.

Gimme a 3-foot long Q-tip and a banana clip and I'll do it myself, I don't care.

Anyway, so I discuss my various questions with the nurse, blah blah blah and we get to the part where I discuss with her my feelings of anxiety and my problems with insomnia. I kind of expected to hear, oh, it's all a normal part of adjusting to life as a stay at home mom and being a new mother, you're fine, do this, do that, maybe go back on the Zoloft at half the dosage.

(I don't know why, but the voice I hear in my head when I write quotes about someone saying something is many times Edie McClurg. Does that happen to anyone else or is it just me?)

I guess that was asking too much. Long story short, I walked out of there feeling pretty crappy about myself. It turns out I'm not only fat, I'm also crazy too. It was recommended to me that I "seek counseling" and that my problems are "beyond normal separation anxiety" and this is "something else and you need to see someone about it."

Oh, and she didn't call me "fat" — of course a nurse wouldn't use that term. No, she said — in reference to me discussing some other issues — "well, when you're heavy, sometimes..."

Heavy. There's a new word. I've been overweight and big-boned, but never, never heavy. That stung. And then, just to lay the icing on the rich and creamy chocolate frosted cake I would so love to shove my fat face into right now, I asked about staying on prenatal vitamins and if there were any disadvantages to doing so because my husband and I would like to start trying for another baby in October. First, she said, as she was checking my breasts for anything unusual, "no, the prenatal vitamins are good, stay on them, there's no danger in staying on them" and then in her next breath she raised her eyebrows at me and in a condescending voice said "but I really don't think you're ready to have another baby, not after what you just told me, it doesn't sound like you're ready."

My heart sank. It's bad enough I beat myself up about whether or not I'm ready for another baby - after the horrible and horrifying experiences I had with my first pregnancy and delivery, I really do not need any help in adding to that self doubt and fear.

But, there it was, the bonus of this particular office visit. As if the generous amounts of lube and scraping of my cervix weren't enough. It seemed like the gift that just kept on giving. I felt like the the dejected loser walking away from a game of Wheel of Fortune Teller where that announcer guy tells you about the prizes you get to take with you for playing.

Drink more Ovaltine? WTF?
So, I think you get the point. I feel shitty and I'm sorry this blog post is so depressing. I'm sure I'll find some way to bounce back. I usually do. I am considering going to see a counselor, but I'm not sure what good it will do. I've been in therapy before when I was a teen. I know which way the revolving door swings. (That there was in the voice of Eeyore, just so you know.)

I dread making an appointment because due to our lovely health care system, I can't just look in the phone book for Quacks-r-Us pick up the phone and make an appointment. First I have to pick a primary care provider which I haven't done in the 4 years I've lived here because I procrastinated (shocking, I know) and when I was pregnant, my OBGYN was my PCP. Next, I have to make an appointment as a new patient and probably get a physical. And, just who is going to watch my kid while this happens? Then, that doc will have to write me a referral to a psychiatrist or "therapist" and then I'll have to make an appointment to talk to that person. Probably repeatedly where I'll have to talk about my mother. And what a friggin joy THAT will be. Then I'll need regression therapy. Again, I ask, who will watch my kid while this takes place? Oh and how much is it going to cost in co-pays and prescriptions each month?

Where is that damn whine I asked for? Maybe I should drink some and watch Dr. Phil. Better yet, maybe I should click on the phishing links the spammers send me about free medication! Yeah! That's it!

Send me some Viagra. I would so much rather have priapism than this right now.

Well, hopefully my next post will be something more interesting. I'll try posting next about my adventures in converting an AOL Contact List into an Apple Address Book! That will be fun!