Random link Tuesday

I came across this link and I just love the artwork: Kei Acedera.

I'm particularly in love with this one, this, oh, let's not forget this, and of course, this one.

Go look around. Great stuff! The full-color illustrations are great too, but I have a special place in my heart for sketches.

I'm working on an idea for a kids' book about deployments. I would so love to have her illustrate it. :::sigh::: A girl can dream (and drool over those sketches).

Prayer of healing

Mi sheberakh avoteinu mekor habrakha l’imoteinu
May the Source of strength
Who blessed the ones before us
Help us find the courage
To make our lives a blessing,
And let us say: Amen.
Mi sheberakh imoteinu mekor habrakha l’avoteinu
Bless those in need of healing With refuah shleima:
The renewal of body,
The renewal of spirit,
And let us say: Amen

Born in Germany, she survived Hitler's regime. Her family lost everything--relatives and possessions. She escaped Nazi Germany and headed to a land she had never seen. It was here in the States that she married (another who fled Germany) and raised a family.

When I first heard her story, when dh and I were first dating, I told him, "We need to name a baby after her." We're Ashkenazi Jews and it's actually not our tradition to name after the living, but there was never any doubt that we needed to make an exception. Girl2 is named in her honor.

Now we're losing her. We don't know how much time dh's grandmother has left. After years of struggling with the hell that is Alzheimer's, she has taken a turn for the worse. She's in the hospital. She's DNR. Please keep her and dh's entire family in your thoughts and prayers.

Add these to the wish list.

In case you're shopping early for the girls' birthday, I'm adding these to their wish lists. Oy vey! It's another hip mom ironic t-shirt moment. I'm sure the world will come crashing down around me now. Somehow, I severely doubt my kids' personalities or my ability to parent will be governed by a t-shirt.

Regardless, I want this and this.

In case your completely baffled as to what on earth that above rant is about, I will point you in this direction.

Nothing says, "Congrats on the tiny life inside you,"

quite like crappy figurines.

File under WTF

Why in the world would anyone want one of these? They're not cute. They're not even a very good likeness. They're scary. I don't want that creepy thing staring at me from the shelf.

What if you put it in your child's room? Oh my word! That's child abuse. Then your poor kid has that hideous rendition of him/herself (Mommy, do I really look that frightening?) from a distance, mocking the child while it quietly plots the kid's death.

Remember the clown that attacked the kid in Poltergeist? These things are SO much worse (and obviously have a much higher potential for homicide. Just look at them).

From Neil Gaiman's mind

to your stomach:

Baby Shower Food

WTF? Am I the only one disturbed by the thought of eating BABIES at a baby shower?

FTR, here's someone's graphic novel rendition of Neil Gaiman's very disturbing short story, Baby Cakes. And here's my beloved Neil reading the story.

Once more with feeling

And here's another one. I'm very obviously not a Christian, but Ann professes to be, so I thought this raised fabulous points:

Yeah, what he said.

"There's a legitimate debate to be had in this country. There are legitimate points of view on both sides of every issue...There are legitimate discussions that we need to have right now about all kinds of topics and none of them are gonna come out of her mouth...Anybody who is reactionary and who just hates because you are on the other side needs to be ignored and pushed out of the room and the discussion needs to be had by the reasonable people...."

Watch the video. I like what he has to say. I don't necessarily agree that we should make fun of her. I think we should ignore her. She's the idiot gradeschool bully who only beats people up to get attention. I think what she said was hateful (everything she says is hateful) and I don't believe in countering hate with more hate. Still, he raises good points.

Sharing timeWho are the people in your neighborhood?

sing it with me now:

in your neighborhood
in your neigh-bor-hood, yeah
Who are the people in you‘re neighborhood?
They're the people that you meet when you're walking down the street,
they're the people that you meet each day.

Yeah, I realize that will be stuck in your head all day. No, I'm not particularly sorry about that. Sit down and shut up before I bust into the opening song from Tiny Tune Adventures, that obnoxious Lambchop song or the Caillou theme.

Anyway, let's get back on track. I want to have another sharing time entry. Let me explain why.

Every day, I see this elderly man walking with his dog. The man is always decked out in clothing supporting a local college team. I see him every day regardless of the weather. He's quite the fixture around here. I've even seen him on the weekends.

Well, the other day, I pulled up in front of the gym to unload the wee ones. He happened to be walking by at that moment and stopped to chat. He's such a sweet man. Turns out, he walks 7 miles every single day. Oh and he's 91. I'll give you a moment to pick your jaw up off the floor because I sure as hell needed it. 91? And he walks 7 miles a day every single day regardless of the conditions? Someone pass the cape because he's my new hero.

So now, for this installment of sharing time, I want everyone to blog about someone. Don't just leave it in my comments, create an entry on your blog, but please do leave a comment letting me know if you played the game so I can go over and read yours. You can pick anyone that you've noticed lately. Maybe it's a new co-worker. Maybe it's another mom from playgroup whose style (and that can be in relation to clothing, parenting, or just personality) you admire. Maybe it's your best friend. Maybe it's the bag boy at the supermarket. Maybe it's the guy who stopped to let you in on the road (pardon me while I bust into, "I'd like to thank you, whoever you are, you let me change lanes while I was driving in my car." I don't care if it's your very best friend or a random person you know nothing about, but find intriguing. Just go forth and blog.

Lessons from an experienced mom

If you find a brand new super cute blankie toy at a garage sale for less than a dollar, but said toy is no longer available in stores, do NOT under any circumstances encourage your child to form a bond with said toy.

Risks associated with this behavior include sleepless nights while said lovey is being washed, irritability (in both the child and parent) due to napless days for the same reason, and endless cursing when you find people out there are those who are chomping at the bit to take advantage of other parents who do such stupid things.

Coming out of hiding.

I beat the restaurant curse. I finally outran the little old man who kept chanting, "No restaurant for YOUUUUUU."

A friend invited me to lunch on Wednesday. It was a gorgeous day. It was good food. It was great company. It was the beginning of me feeling much better.

We went out on Friday to my restaurant of choice. The food was just eh (although healthy) and I'm still annoyed that no planning went into it on dh's part (I suggested it and it wasn't anything fancy). But, hey, I'm in that "moving right along" frame of mind.

I was supposed to see the sister yesterday, but she bailed. Then we were going to see her today for my niece's party, but that didn't happen. We're supposed to go over there on Tuesday for said birthday party. I'll keep ya posted on that. Is anyone in a betting mood?

I FINALLY got a bunch of purging done for my whole simplifying thing. There's a local consignment sale and I dropped a bunch of clothes off there. Dh even put together one of the old cribs to sell at the sale. It was originally a $500 crib, so I'm hoping to make some money off that. I'm really just hoping to get some of this crap out of here. I gave some clothes away and have still others in bags ready to give away (whenever I FINALLY get to see my sister). We have plans to pair down a bunch of the furniture in this place. I just need to wait until the consignment sales are all over (there will be one more at the end of the month). Then we'll be going room-by-room. We already know we're starting with the sitting room. I can't wait to have that room purged so it's not so cluttered. I love that room, but since it's the catch all for all of our clutter (and it's the first room you walk into when you enter), it makes me ill. I'm so excited to finally get it all straightened out.

It's Purim. Yay. I love Purim. It's my favorite holiday. Lots of fun. Lots of great food. There are supposed to be lots of great drinks (we're actually supposed to get drunk), but I didn't imbibe this year. We went to the party yesterday and the kids had another one today at Sunday school. They picked their own costumes and looked very cute. I made a Superman one for TheBoy and am quite proud how it turned out. All the costumes came from existing play clothes and/or regular clothes. We're oh so creative! :-)

And now my dinner is calling, so I must bid you all fare well for the time being.

On "hipster" parents

I admit, I fall into the description of "hipster" parents.

I've read all sorts of things about the topic lately, but Mom101 says it best.

The Final Word on Hipster Parenting. (Oh, Who am I Kidding.)

This will give you a taste of the piece. She quotes an article that slams the idea and gives her own insight:

So I'd hate to think that when I hit the streets of Brooklyn (who knew we were making such a hipster move when we got there; and here I was thinking we had simply gotten priced out of Manhattan) with my new baby in her Doc Maarten booties, that it will lead David Brooks and his ilk to leap to make value judgments about me. Especially when those value judgments are that I'm self-absorbed, emotionally stunted, and unfit to breed. Or, as it was expressed in the column: "Parents who refuse to face that their days of chaotic, unscheduled moshing are over."

Oh, how I mourn my days of unscheduled moshing, truly I do. Why, an impromptu mosh would really hit the spot right now. You got me there, David.

Random link Tuesday

I forgot to post yesterday with a random link, so you'll get one today.

Anyone who would frequent this place has WAY too much money and free time.

Oy!

waving the white flag

That's it. I give up. I can't take any more of the disappointment, the drama, the mess, the vomiting or the screaming and crying. I'm done.

I surrender.

Silver lining

When The Boy woke up from his nap (2 hours early), I brought him into bed with me. He only stopped screaming when the sisters came in. So they went, grabbed a toy for him and played with him to keep him quiet. When he, further investigating this new fangled technology we like to call "Gravity," kept throwing the toy, his sisters happily played fetch with him.

I've never been close with one of my sisters (emotionally or physically). She was 17 when I was born and didn't have much room for a baby sister. We plan on moving out her way in about 2 years. She sent me a card today. It reads,

I wish you where here, so that we could have done something together on your birthday. But I know that it will be soon that we are together and we can spend many more birthdays together. Have a great day.
Love Your Big Sis,

That made me smile. She's not one for sharing emotions or getting sappy, so that really meant a lot to me.

Dh went out and got me Starbucks. Granted, I forgot to ask for the decaf variety and I didn't get it until 8:30 at night, so chances are I'll be up all night, but hey, Girl2 is still throwing up, so I suppose that could be useful.

I vote to move my birthday. A friend thought it was the 28th. Maybe I should celebrate it then instead. Although, when shit like this happened a few years ago and I tried the same thing, I just wound up being disappointed twice because nothing happened on the Unbirthday day either. :::sigh:::

And the hits just keep on comin'.

Girl2 is throwing up. There will be no going out for my birthday. There will, however, be lots and lots of cleaning up, rubbing backs and filling the tub for her.

The little old man no longer smacks my hand. He now chases me with a cattle prod yelling, "No restaurant for YOUUUUUUU."

The rest of the day absolutely sucked. Dh has yet to wish me a, "Happy birthday." None of my friends have called. No one on my board made any mention of the day. That includes one board where mine is the first birthday they've missed. They even keep a birthday list up on top that has today listed as my birthday.

Lots of other stuff has happened to tick me off. I am NOT a happy camper.

Blah

So, guess what I am? I believe the technical term for this feeling would be, "Blah."

I'm just feeling down lately for a number of reasons.

Restaurants hate me. I never get to go to them. I love them dearly, but they apparently have some sort of force field that keeps me away. About this fact, I am greatly displeased.

Yesterday, plans to go out to eat with friends got nixed which ticked me off more than I realized. So I hit the phone and called a bunch of friends trying to find someone I could meet up with for a change of lunch plans. Everyone was either sick, busy or at work.

So I told dh we'd go out for dinner. He was fine with that (which is odd because he hates going out to eat), but then that got nixed because my kids headed for Pestville at warpspeed and I refuse to reward bad behavior with a trip to any place that they adore. So yet another chance at going out was nixed. Can't you just see some little old man smacking my hand away screeching, "No restaurant for YOUUUUUU?"

I wanted Starbucks tonight after the Nutless Wonder's training class which is conveniently right across from a Starbucks, but that didn't happen for a number of reasons. My fault because I didn't say I wanted it, but I'm getting annoyed with dh's ability to get huffy lately. I didn't want to deal with the passive aggressive sighing, so I didn't say anything.

I adore Starbucks. Anyone who knows anything about me knows I love my iced coffee drinks with a frightening passion. So any time one is within 100 or so feet of a Starbucks, one should know to ask. One should make absolutely certain he/she offers me coffee when it is just hours before my birthday, there is a Starbucks right there and one is well aware that not only is said Starbucks within reach, but it can actually be on the way home if you just make one simple left turn. But, alas, no Starbucks.

I'm sensing this is going to be yet another in a LONG line of sucky birthdays. Last year, for the first time in a long time, I actually had a good day. The previous year had been a tough one, so I threw myself a birthday party. I needed it. I had a blast. This year, no party and no definite plans for anything. Every year, I hope for something, but that never happens.

Grrrrr. I love my birthday. I just hate that it gets screwed up year after year. There's so much potential, but it usually gets squashed.

Let's see how many people forget it completely. Let's see how many people stumble across this entry and say, "Oh shit! It was her birthday?"

Screw this. I'm going to bed.

In the eternal words of Eric Cartman: "Screw you guys. I'm going home." That and, "Mooooom. Kitty's being a dildo," but that last one really has nothing to do with this entry. Except, maybe that last word.

FTR, after about 12:30 pm tomorrow, I'll be home. If you have any clue where I live and you're in my metro area, feel free to show up at my door with coffee. Just don't expect me to invite you in. I have 3 kids, a dog, 2 cats, a husband who zones out with a book (when he's not sighing about granola bars), way too much junk of which I'm trying to dispose and a nice heaping case of malaise. Plus until just a few hours ago, it was Shabbat and G-d expressly said, "Dude, it's MY day. Step away from the mop!" Really, it's in there. Just bust out your copy of the Tanakh and you'll find it there. I promise.

The granola bar martyr

And now let me introduce you to the bane of my existence: granola bars. These are yummy, chewy, happy granola bars that are cheap and are only 2 points for those doing Weight Watchers. Every week, dh buys a big box of them. And every week, he bitches about the fact that I eat them all and he doesn't get any. Yet every week, he doesn't EVEN TRY TO EAT ANY. WTF? I grabbed two after we went food shopping last week. That prompted the damn passive aggressive sigh. It was lunch time, I hadn't eaten, and we still had to sit there and wait for the kids to get out of Sunday school. Shut up. Sit down. And give me my freaking granola bars!

The other day, he reached in for a granola bar (which is a shock because he never does until the day before we go shopping). He saw there were only 2 left and declared (with a heavy sigh), that he wasn't going to have one because there were only two left. I told him to eat one. He didn't. I then told him he doesn't get to play that game. You can't bitch just to bitch. You can't bitch when there aren't any and then bitch when there are. None left? "Oh woe is me, by the time I got there, you had eaten them all and there was nothing left for me." A few left? "There were only two left, so I couldn't have any. Doesn't matter that you told me to have one. I can't play the freaking martyr if I actually eat a granola bar. So I'll just stand here and whine instead." My husband, the granola bar martyr.

This is getting really old. I've taken to hiding when I eat the damn granola bars because I don't want to hear it. That pisses me off because I'm an adult. I shouldn't have to hide to eat my own damn food.

Oy. I'm just not in a good mood lately (more on that later) and this shit is pissing me off big time. Keep it up. Let's see how granola bars work as projectiles.

Reason to love homeschooling #372

Dh has been reading the Emma books to the girls at bedtime. Emma is an 8-year-old living with her mother. They have a friend's 4-year-old little boy staying with them.

In the story, Emma doesn't like the little boy. They don't get along. Dh tried to explain to the girls that it's because Emma is older, so she'd rather play with kids her age and she finds the little boy obnoxious. The girls don't understand. They're homeschooled. They play with kids of all ages and kids of all ages willingly play with them.

Here's the gist of the reply dh got to his attempt to explain the age thing:

But Cecilia is 8. We're little, but she plays with us. She likes to play with us. Her sister is 9 and she plays with us too. We like playing with them. They have beads. We play dress up with them. We put on fashion shows with them.

At a field trip in October, the mom of the aforementioned sisters summed it up nicely. The kids were all playing on a haystack and a boy of about 12 called for another little boy to play with him. This friend of mine asked, "In what public school would you find a pre-teen willing to play with a 4-year-old?"

Civilians

When you're Jewish, you have the word "Goy." It basically means "non-Jews," but it's usually used when someone is completely clueless.

In military life, civilians are our goyim. When someone makes a stupid comment or makes it clear that they have no concept of how the military works, you shrug your shoulders and say, "You can't blame him. He's a civlian." If they say something particularly stupid, you usually pepper that with a few expletives.

Dh has started interviewing for civilian jobs. He starts his terminal leave in less than a month. His separation date is the end of May.

The prospect of being a civlian family frightens me. I've been a military wife for so long now. Our kids have always been military "brats." This isn't just a job, it's a way of life. I'm glad dh is abandoning his military career (never thought I'd say that) because it's obvious that it's not the best place for him (which sucks because he has gotten all kinds of honors and awards, but the current administration has screwed up royally and that directly affects the military). Still, everything we know is about to change and that's scary as hell.

Operation Get This Crap Out Of My House: Day 1

Inspired by Kamrin's quest to simplify her life towards the end of last year, I decided to do the same. That whole ordeal started today. When you're a pack rat, that is not an easy task. Oy!

After dh and I folded and put away a few loads of laundry last week, we were left with the realization that we have more clothes for the kids than we have room. Mind you, the girls have a closet and an armoire, the latter of which they now have to share with their brother because his clothes no longer fit in his dresser.

That's it! Not only am I going to stop buying all this crap, I'm also going to sort through the clothes and get rid of a bunch. Those that we borrowed from friends will go back to their rightful home. Anything anyone else gave us will be given away (I'm not comfortable selling things that other folks have given us). Some items will be passed to my sister. Everything else will be sold either at an upcoming consignment sale or at one of the local kids' consignment stores.

I sorted clothes today. Oh my word! My kids have more clothes than any 5 or 6 kids could need. And mind you, that's only what we had out. There are boxes and boxes in the attic. I'll sort through them when I'm feeling a bit more ambitious. Right now, I'm far too tired.

We're not just forcing the kids to simplify. Dh and I sorted through old magazines today. A huge stack went to the recycling dumpster type thing at a local church (not sure what the official title is). That left us with two empty plastic storage boxes. Woo hoo. After sorting through the kids' clothes, I got another one emptied. Yay to getting rid of crap and freeing up some space.

Next step, consolidate the two giant plastic boxes of diapers into just one. Then donate all the extra liners/covers. Sure, I cloth diapered twins, but thanks to generous friends, I actually have enough liners/covers to diaper 4 babies. That's AFTER I gave some away to a foster mom two years ago. So some of this has got to go.

I'm exhausted and a bit overwhelmed (to be honest, WAY more than just a bit), but it's also so freeing. I'm just beginning to realize how much having all this stuff around weighs me down. It leaves the place cluttered. It means we're constantly cleaning or moving things around. I'm really looking forward to pairing down to only what we need and use.

On the agenda: stop obsessively checking the super cheap jewelry website & definitely stop buying more pretty shiny useless crap from there.

What a doll (with a penis)!

For a while there, I went on a rampage--the type of rampage where, when one is finished, one has bunches of plastic babies with bits. Yes, I went on an anatomically correct doll buying rampage.

When dh came home last time, I had 2-year-olds who could accurately and without hesitation tell you about their girl bits. When they saw their daddy naked, though, they were a bit baffled. "Vulva," they asked questioningly when they saw him in the shower (and yes, it was complete with pointing). Hey, there hadn't been a penis in this house in months until dh came home. What do ya expect? Daddy didn't like that at all. He tried to explain the concept of the penis, but alas, they didn't understand.

So I scoured the stores, the internet and the ebay. There were none in the stores (what's up with that? Is Toys R Us afraid of the power of a tiny plastic penis?). I got a bunch of plastic dolls from E-bay, but most of them broke. Then I found these. Three years later, we still have the Hispanic boy doll (which the girls named NoDoubt. Don't ask because even I don't know). I love that doll. It's adorable.

So when I saw them featured at Cool Mom Picks, I had to say a hearty, "ITA."

FTR, they now understand the whole boy/girl thing and are no longer baffled by the penis. In fact, when changing their little brother (yes, they change him too), they're very likely to announce in a sing-songy voice, "Oh look, he found his penis. Do you like your penis?"

I love my kids. They have cute toys and they crack me up.

I love my husband.

We have always boycotted Valentine's Day. We think it's a stupid Halmark holiday. Although, now the girls are old enough to really appreciate it. So we opted to celebrate it for them. We had agreed to just buy/do something for/with them, but dh surprised me.

First off, on his lunch break, he went to the store and bought them Valentine's gifts. What did my tough military husband get? Two blinking tiaras that come complete with matching clip-on earrings and rings. Oh and a pack of bracelets too. The kids adore them. I love that dh isn't afraid to be seen buying tiaras and even more than that, I'm thrilled that he's the type of dad who knows what his kids like.

Then he surprised me. He got me a gift. He warned me, "It's not your standard Valentine's Day gift."

What was it? Strawberry Daiquiri mix and tequila. The man is GOOD.

Mother knows best

The doctor "poo-poo-ed" us when we called about the kids' fevers. He insisted it was nothing and would take care of itself. I decided if they still had fevers today (a full week later), I would make an appointment. I had a feeling they had a secondary infection. The nasal congestion started in full-force just today.

Sure enough, after an exam, the doctor agrees. I don't like to take/give drugs when not necessary, but when needed, I want 'em and I want 'em now (or a week after the onset of the illness, whichever comes first). All the kids' got prescriptions. Oddly, he wrote one for the girls and a different one (Amoxicillin) for The Boy. I asked him to switch it and he did without a question. Dh and I are allergic to Penicillin as is Girl2. We don't know about Girl1 because this very same doctor won't let her try it. He said we're better off just assuming she is allergic since chances are she is. So it was strange when he prescribed it for The Boy.

Anyway, the kids have been dosed and are now on their way to feeling better. Yay. Maybe I can save my sanity after all.

And I must point out that I WAS RIGHT. I do so love that phrase. :-)

Random link Monday

Okay, I need a break from the sick kids (yes, they're STILL sick. The doctor finally agreed to see us later today), so here are a few links from my "funny" folder:

A collection of interesting and fun links
You can waste lots of time here. From building your own action figure to a warning sign generator, there's something for everyone.

Bald Guy Greetings
Funny cards. I particularly like this first birthday one and this multi-occasion one as well.

Postcards
A friend of a friend made these. They crack me up.

The Rudy Letters
Here's the official discription:
A man, a computer, and too much free time on his hands. Prepare to enter the complex and oddly alluring world of Rudy.

Now go forth and enjoy the linky goodness.

This is how you know it’s love.

I don't know what initially brought dh and me together. He was not at all what I thought I wanted. He thought I was cute, but I don't believe he had any serious plans of asking me out. Yet 10 years ago, we met, started dating, and made our way to this time and place.

I adore my husband for many reasons--far too many to list, but I want to write about one of them.

After a conversation the other evening, though, I came to a realization. We started this journey as a couple because we were in love. Contrary to what the Beatles would have us believe (even if the song is oh so wonderful), love is not all you need. Love is the foundation, but you need trust, you need security, you need to compliment one another, you need to have a similar vision of the future, you need to be willing to work through the rough spots, you need sensitivity.

You need a huge helping of fun. You need to be able to have fun together, not at the other one's expense.

Dh and I had the strangest conversation the other night that left me giggling, shaking my head, and realizing just how much I love my husband (and how lucky we are to have that). I swear this is the dumbest thing and it won't translate well, but follow me anyhow.

We had a discussion the other evening about whether or not Oprah would feature a levitating cat on her show. We never did come to an agreement (he says, "Yes," I say, "Not unless it also starts spouting off something about honoring your spirit,"), but we cracked up laughing. In the same conversation, we covered topics from Batman to _Jane Eyre_.

The fact that we can have these discussions (serious and absolutely freaking insane) and can still laugh together is one of the reasons we're still together today.

For that, I am very thankful. For him, I'm more grateful than I could ever say (and trust me, I talk A LOT, so for me to be left speechless is a huge deal).

Random linky goodness

A friend sent me this and I must share:

Barbie as you've never seen her before.

I don't like Barbie. I have huge issues with Barbie dolls and the roles they play in female gender identity and body image. That being said, I LOVE that link and I love Margaux Lange's designs. She's SO creative and she definitely works outside the box.

the strangest thing (finding peace)

I had the strangest realizations today.

So, you'll remember that I've been bitching for months about some baby-related things.

Today, a whole host of things happened that should have ticked me off. Not only did they not in the least, but I actually realized I'm grateful for where I am at this point in time.

I went to a homebirth meeting. We discussed what typical homebirths are like and how even with most hospital transfers, the baby's are born vaginally with no drugs. That was very much not my experience.

I keep thinking that should have bothered me, but it didn't. Even when my very favorite midwife mentioned how physical abnormalities that make it impossible for babies to fit through the pelvis are very rare, I didn't get all "Woe is me," about it.

I know things could have gone very differently with my first pregnancy when I saw an OB (long story short, but the OB didn't do her job and I got very sick and had an emergency c-section 2 months too soon as a direct result), but I'm beginning to let that go. I learned from that experience and it has made all the difference. Maya Angelou had it right, "When you know better, you do better." I made a mistake in seeking Obstetric care. I have since learned the difference between the midwifery model of care and Obstetric care. I am blessed to have been fortunate enough to experience midwifery care with my second pregnancy rather than just clinging to what was familiar.

I was shocked to find that I think I have forgiven everything surrounding The Boy's birth. I know now that there is no way my son would have been born vaginally. It wasn't anyone's fault--not mine, not the doctor, not G-d's. No one could have done anything any differently.

At the meeting, a friend asked, "What if you transfer to the hospital and you refuse a c-section." It occured to me, "Wait, I did just that." Granted, I eventually signed the damn consent and had him sliced out of me because I'm one of the rare few cases that really needed one, but I went down fighting. I refused until I had a chance to exhaust my options. I didn't give up. I didn't buckle under pressure. It wasn't a waste because I proved my own strength. I find a lot of strength in that fact.

I find I'm not villifying my second c-section any longer. I still think the rates are WAY too high in the States and all this bull with not allowing VBACs in some states has got to stop, but I'm actually grateful that the procedure exists. We need to cut this shit out when we reach for the scalpel just because the doctor wants to make more money ($2,000 for a vaginal birth vs. $5-10,000 for a c-section), their "Chicken Little mentality" has them insisting there "could" be a danger when it's actually not likely, the hospital staff is tired of waiting for mom to labor on her own, or just because it happens to be a day ending in Y (a nod to Giselle for using one of her catch phrases); but when used effectively (and only when there's a true physical need), c-sections save lives. Twins are typically smaller than singletons, so with better care, there's a chance that I could have birthed my twins vaginally, but there's no chance that The Boy would have been born that way. Without a c-section, I would have died as would my son. I am the rare case (2% vs. the 30-some-odd % currect c-section rate in the U.S.) that truly needed that surgery. Words cannot express how thrilled I am that I had the option.

At the end of the meeting, it occured to me that I was the only woman present who wasn't pregnant. And you know what? That didn't bother me at all.

I'm actually grateful to NOT be pregnant right now. Dh is about to end his military career (well, the active duty part at least). He has only just begun to interview for new jobs. The Boy is still young (I like at least a 3 year age difference between my kids, not counting those that come as a matched set). My body will have a much better chance for a successful VBAC if we wait at least 2 full years after The Boy was born to start trying. There are things I'll need to do/avoid next time around and I'm just not ready to go there yet. I like that I'm giving myself time to adjust first.

This has been my biggest issue for a long time. It has torn my heart out and made me absolutely miserable. So it's very strange to, all of a sudden, find such peace with it. I am imensely thankful for that. I am just in awe of it all.

The silver lining

The girls are still sick. The Boy is apparently done with it all after just one day and no meds. G-d bless breastfeeding!

There was a really cute bright spot today. The girls huddled together on the couch this morning and Girl1 started singing to her sister to make her feel better.

Nothing brightens your day quite like hearing the deep congested voice of your sick little one singing "The Brave Old Duke of York" to her equally sick sister all while they're hugging each other cuddled up under the blankets.

Quite possibly the most inappropriate survey question I have ever answered:

"What places, if any, have you or anyone in your household purchased a glazed, spiral-cut ham from in the past 12 months?"

Bwa ha ha ha ha.

Unfortunately there's no box that reads, "I'm a Jew. I don't eat pig corpse, but I do have this* hanging on my fridge."

*

Thank you, sir, may I have another?

And the hits just keep on coming.

More kids are sick. We almost took Girl1 to the ER. I planned a dinner with friends only to have to cancel.

I called the sister and made plans to go out to eat with her. We were going to invite along the newly pregnant friend that I missed at lunch. I was leaving the kids with dh, shopping with the sister, then dinner.

When I came home, Girl1 was feeling much better. Then Girl2 got sick. She had a fever, but she put herself to bed. That NEVER happens. My girls stopped napping right after their second birthday.

The bright spot of the day was that without prompting, Girl1 colored a picture, brought it in to her sister, gave it to her and said, "I made this. It's a card for you to make you feel better."

Then Girl1 crashed on the couch. I know Christians believe in signs of the Apocolypse. I'm telling you, my girls willingly putting themselves down for a nap should be on that list. You know that if that happens, the news is not good.

Girl1 woke from her nap hours later still with a fever, but feeling much better. Girl1 woke crying. She had a fever of 104.7. I tried desperately to keep my calm while I called the doctor's after hours number. I waited and didn't hear anything. I gave her some more Motrin and a hot bath (I've heard cold baths can be dangerous with a fever). She came down to 103. An hour later, the doctor called back and told dh not to worry. Unless she absolutely refuses to eat or drink, don't be concerned even if her fever goes as high as 106 or 107.

Wait. Wait. Wait. I adore my doctor, but that's bull. I know kids can survive higher fevers than adults, but when they're that high, there's a risk of brain damage. A call to a friend who is a nurse as well as a checking in with a friend who is an Occupational Therapist and whose husband is a physician confirmed my fears and told us that should her fever get above 103, to get her to the hospital.

The doctor suspects we have the Flu. He says we'll probably all get it. Yet he didn't offer to call in a prescription for Tamiflu and he's now completely unreachable. Grrr. I like to avoid pills whenever possible, but I'm all for a medication that keeps my entire famly from suffering and possible trips to the ER.

I left our plans up to the sister and she bailed. I completely understand. She's awfully pregnant and the last thing she needs is to get the Flu. Still, it sucks. I wanted to hang out. I wanted yummy food. I wanted to spend some time with friends. Not gonna happen.

This also means no gym for me tomorrow. The gym is what keeps my sanity. Plus I'm in a contest there for the most inches lost. This is the last week of the contest. Missing 2 days (remember, I missed today because of my meeting) is not going to help. GAH.

This sucks. See that corner over there? I'm gonna go sit there and pout now. Wait, first I'll treat myself to some of that wine. I do have a whole gallon after all.

It's been one of those days all week.

I'm just in a mood today.

I'm dealing with my own issues and now lots of drama has risen up around me. I soak up other people's emotions. That combined with the fact that I'm usually willing to put myself out there and a career where it's my job to listen to people's problems makes for lots of stress. When people around me are mad/sad/stressed, I tend to pick that up in spades. Lately, everyone wants to whine to me about their situation. It doesn't seem that they want solutions. Apparently, they just want to heap their drama on top of my overflowing cup and I really can't take too much more of it. I just want to shake them all and yell, "DEAL WITH IT!" I'm more than willing to help you try to find the solution that works best for you, but I'm not in a position to take on more stress.

Couldn't sleep last night. Too much running around in my head. Then Girl1 woke up sick. So she came to bed with us. Then I REALLY didn't sleep.

That kid spent her first 8 months beside me in bed. Her sister spent her first 15 months in bed with us. So why is it that now I can't sleep at all with just one of them in bed with me?

I got maybe 2 hours of sleep last night--not consecutive. Then I had a meeting this morning. We were locked out of the building in the cold for a while. Not fun. Had to coordinate schedules so dh could get home to watch the sick one. Then I didn't have time after the meeting to go to lunch.

I got to see a good friend today who I never get to see any more. She purposely came today and announced to the group that she's pregnant (I already knew, but shhhh, it was a secret). I really wanted to go to lunch with her and do some catching up, but t'was not to be. Dh needed to get back to the office, so I had to come right home. I LOVE lunch after meetings. I hate missing that.

Add to this all that it appears dh is showing symptoms of PTSD again. It's delayed, so I really wasn't expecting it, but I've had a really difficult time with this situation lately and he just shuts down. He ignores me completely. Time to make another appointment with the therapist (strange coincidence, I found out that another military wife friend with whom I have WAY too much in common also sees the same therapist). Not sure what good it'll do since it'll only be for me and the kids have to come with me, but I need to do SOMETHING to prevent myself from climbing out of my own skin.

I realize that none of this is the end of the world, but I'm just kind of fed up lately. It's not any one or anything inparticular. It's just all of it rolled into one big stinking screaming ball of suckage.

I'm just annoyed at the world right now.

"I can't stand my life. I can't stand myself. I can't stand in these six inch heels anymore."

Well, maybe not exactly, but I thought it was appropriate for this moment in time. I'm in a mood. Come back tomorrow when I'll be more entertaining, I promise. I'll tell you how this little Jew now has a gallon of wine intended for mass given to her by a former nun. Good times, I tell ya. Much better than this shit!

tie for first place

Whoops, I forgot one commercial. This one cracked me up. It actually ties the Bud Light one for my top pick:

Chevy Strip

Super Bowl Commercials: My top picks

Went to a Super Bowl party this evening. We had lots of fun and lots of yummy snacky foods.

I didn't give a damn who won. All I was there for was the food, friends, and commercials.

Here are my very favorites:

This is my top pick:
Bud Light as a second language

I also liked these:

Click A Mouse (Blockbuster)

Sierra Karate

Nutty Goulet (Emerald Nuts)

Promotion Pit (careerbuilder.com)

Rock, Paper, Bud Light

Honorable mention goes to:

Taco Bell Safari

Think happy thoughts.

Need more happy? I know I do. And so, I'll share some kid news.

At services on Friday, the kids were absolutely wonderful. Dh held The Boy during it and at one point, the baby pointed to me, then pointed to the door and announced "Out." "Out? He wants me to leave," I said in a shocked and amused tone. Dh laughed. The Boy really did say, "Out." Dh heard it too.

While trying to decide what item from our Jewish home to bring to Sunday school, Girl2 insisted she wanted to bring me. When I said I couldn't do that, she insisted, "You're in my house and you're Jewish. What's the problem?"

This "Bring something Jewish from home" assignment has lead to lots and lots of fun with my kids. Yesterday, Girl1 told me she wanted to bring a toy. I reminded her it had to be something Jewish. She told me, "All my toys are Jewish. I'm their mom and I'm Jewish. If your mom is Jewish, you are too. So all my toys are Jewish." I couldn't argue with that. I could, however, laugh.

Because I really need a positive spin right now...

we return to the Gratitude game.

I got the letter D.

1. Daughters: I adore my girls. I consider myself very lucky to have not only my girls, but kids of both sexes. I have friends who desperately wanted a child of one sex, but wound up with 3, 4, or even 5 of the opposite. I'm blessed to know both sides of the coin. Although, I consider the opportunity to raise girls to be a great one. Aside from the stereotypical cute girl stuff, I get the chance to teach our girls that they can make a difference in the world. Granted, I plan to teach our son the same thing, but it's a whole different ball game with girls. I have been given the huge responsibility and privilege of raising daughters in a way where they hopefully feel confident in their own skin and can excel in whatever they choose.

2. Diary: This thing helps me sort things out. It forces me to continue writing. It allows me to look back and see things in a different light.

3. Dance: It was my escape for so many years. It lead me to some of the most wonderful people in the world. I was raised believing that everyone is a dancer at heart. Then I met my husband who has no sense of rhythm. So now I can better appreciate all those long hours and hard work I put into dancing. The ability to do that really is extraordinary. I will never be able to explain how much magic dance brought into my life.

4. Darkroom: My grandfather was a photographer. He had very little formal education, but he taught himself so much about his photography. His pictures of family members are some of the only portraits we have. Without his pictures, I would never have known what many of them looked like. His touching candid portraits of my grandmother (for whom I'm named, but who died long before I was born) introduced me to her long after she was gone. We had the remnants of his darkroom in my basement when I was a child. When I was in high school, I set foot in a working darkroom for the first time and I was in love. Not only was I better able to realize a life-long passion (I got my first camera at 6-year-old and never looked back), but in that darkroom, I found a connection to that grandfather.

5. Deodorant: I work out for 2 hours every day. 'Nuff said. :-)

6. Dessert: Chocolate. :::drool::: Once again, 'nuff said.

7. Determination: I'm not the type who believes people when they tell me I can't do something. I'm stubborn as hell which can be a problem sometimes, but once I make up my mind about something, it's gonna happen. "Don't start with me. You will not win." That about sums it up. :-)

8. Dictonary: I was voted the top student in my AP English class by my peers. My award was a penny (long story) and the biggest dictionary I had ever seen. That award meant SO much to me. I still have the penny (framed) and I still have that dictionary.

9. Dreams: I'm thankful for dreams for two reasons. #1. You can always have a goal. XY and Z may be wrong with your life, but if you have a dream to become something, you have something to work for. You have a light at the end of the tunnel. #2. I'm a daydreamer, so I love flight of fancy dreams. While my body may actually be stuck in the car behind a long line of other cars moving at roughly 3 miles per hour, my mind could be wandering damn near anywhere and I assure you it's much warmer and picturesque there plus it smells a lot better too.

10. Drinks: of the alcoholic variety. Not only the drinks, but the friends with whom you go drinking. Don't worry, I'm responsible about it, but I just love having a drink (or an entire bottle of wine) with friends. It's so nice to get out with friends, have a few drinks and chat.

How the hell do I deal with this one?

Someone in my family is having a baby. This is AWFUL news. This child is unplanned. The parents are not married (which I realize isn't the end of the world, but from what I hear, they're not even all that stable), only one of them is working and one of them is a pedophile.

I know he is, but my family is in utter denial. They have been for years. So family members have taken to happily e-mailing/calling to tell me about this baby. I yelled at my mother when I spoke to her today. Now I don't do that. I do not yell at my mom. I do not curse around my mom. Yet today, when she acted out-right giddy about the whole disaster, I went off. She then insisted it was no business of mine what they decide to do (they're keeping the baby). I yelled, "When they're introducing a new little fuck-up into the world, it's all of our business." I apologized as soon as the word was out of my mouth, but I meant it.

This guy's grandfather abused his father, so his father abused him and waged war against my whole family (tried to kill us all and almost succeeded more than once), and then, of course, he went on to be abusive.

A family member sent me a happy e-mail saying she predicted a boy. My first thought was, "I sure as hell hope so." This guy likes little girls. I'm talking LITTLE. I refused to leave him alone with my 4-year-old cousin when I saw how he reacted to her. But then I started thinking about the cycle. If it is a boy, chances are we'll just be releasing another psychopath into the world who will abuse more people.

I cannot put into words how much I hate this person. I try desperately not to hate anyone, but I realized long ago that if he was to die, I would not only be relieved, but absolutely ecstatic. I know that sounds awful, but I won't apologize for it. If he was dead, he couldn't hurt anyone else. If he was dead, I wouldn't have to worry about him reproducing. His mother got pregnant with him when she was young and unmarried. She got married, had the baby and kept him. I know I have some readers who would never ever agree with me on this, but I wish with all my heart that she had had an abortion. The cycle could have ended there.

I'm at such a loss right now. I have so many emotions that they're leaving me numb. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to run the hell away. I spent a portion of the night in bed with the girls last night. How the hell do I protect them? Not only do these evil people exist, but they keep reproducing either biologically or through the people they abuse (often, those people are one in the same). We can't run away from it. How can I protect my kids from it?

And now we have this latest disaster. What am I supposed to feel? How the hell can I deal with these emotions? Do I even want to? It just seems like it would be so much easier to be numb. How the hell do I get my husband to understand that I need him right now? How can I tell the family to STOP FREAKING E-MAILING ME SONOGRAM PICTURES? How do I get my mom to understand that this is NOT good news and I don't want to happily chat about it? If I just jump in the car and drive, how far will I get before it all hits me?

And the cape goes to...

My niece. She is my new hero. Want to know why? Because she has lost 117 lbs since May.

Once I pick my jaw up off the floor, I will be applauding loudly.

Warning: Cape does not enable wearer to fly

FTR, yes, the subject was an actual warning included with a Halloween costume. What on earth is this world coming to?

Okay, now back to the story:

First the backstory:

The girls have Superman sheets. The pillowcase has his big face on one side. You can clearly see a cleft in his chin. Dh also has a cleft in his chin. This lead to the girls' belief that their father is a superhero. Girl1 inherited that cleft chin. So it's clear that she too must be a super hero. Her super power has yet to be determined, but she knows she's a superhero.

Today, she proudly told me how she found a broken light on the floor in the gym nursery, so she turned it over to the staff there. I thanked her and told her she may have saved the babies because they may have choked on it or gotten cut. She then insisted saving babies is her super power, but she paused and added in a baffled voice,

"I'm a superhero, but I wasn't born wearing a cape."

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my kids? That cracked me up.

Feel the love.

I must take this moment to rave about just how very much I love my husband and my kids.

I wound up going to the ER as soon as dh came home last Thursday. What started out as a bothersome ankle became very painful. It got to the point where I couldn't walk on it at all. So we all headed to the ER. No broken bones (woo hoo), but I had soft tissue damage in my ankle and in my foot. I went home with an oh so fashionable orthopedic shoe and a pair of crutches oh and some pain medication. Can't forget the pain medication. I tend to scorn much of Western medicine, but bless them and their pain meds.

My husband is the most wonderful man in the world. Our house is designed for tiny little people (I'm not just talking about the kids), so trying to get crutches to fit through doorways, hallways, and around furniture was not fun. My amazing dh not only brought me whatever I needed, but he wrangled all three kids. Without being asked, he took off from work on Friday because he realized (long before I did) that I couldn't take care of the kids when I couldn't even pick The Boy (who isn't yet walking) up. Dh didn't complain once. I adore my husband.

And now we move on to my kids. I must say thank you, Irim, for your lovely compliment the other day. That really made me step back and realize that even though my kids have a tendency to drive me nuts, they are very sweet and very polite. We went out the other day and dh got annoyed with them over something. I told him, "Someone on the blog commented on how polite they are and you know what? They really are. We need to remember that." He agreed and wasn't nearly as annoyed with them as he had been.

Yesterday, they came home from Sunday school with a note from their teacher. The girls have homework. They discussed the things you find in a Jewish home. So we're to take them on a tour of the Jewish items in our home and they're to bring one in to class next week. We went on a tour and they have some ideas for what they want to bring (I'm going to cheat. In addition to whatever they pick, I'm sending them with their Mizpah necklaces. The Mizpah means "Watch-tower." It's taken from Genesis: May the L-rd watch between me and thee when we are apart from another." I said that prayer when dh was gone before we had kids, I said it when the girls were in the NICU and I taught it to the girls and we said it every night in dh's absence. They got their necklaces at their naming ceremony when they were tiny).

After our tour, I asked them, "What is the most important thing in a Jewish home? What is in our house that REALLY lets people know we're Jewish?" Girl1 blew me away when she answered, "G-d." I was thinking, "The people," but you know what, I like her answer even better. I made sure to tell her that and then we discussed how the people are important too and how our behavior is important because we reflect G-d.

Oh and on that note, I want to share this discussion with you. The girls left me a struggling a bit the other day. In the car, they asked, "How do we hear G-d? Because we can't hear what He's saying." I was taken aback, but I told them that we don't really need to hear Him with our ears. His words are in the Torah and by learning Torah, we can learn what He wants us to do. Then, we can hear him in our hearts because we know how He wants us to behave. Girl2 protested, "But I can't read Hebrew. So I can't read the Torah. Then I can't hear G-d." I explained that they're learning Torah every day. When they share and play nicely, they're learning Torah because they're learning that's what G-d wants them to do. When they go to Sunday school and they learn about shul, Hebrew, and our ancestors, all those things are found in Torah. When we say prayers, those are all from the Torah. Once I explained that, they were quite pleased with themselves for being so very smart. :-)

I love my kids. They may leave me exhausted, but they also leave me giggling, beaming with pride, and in awe.

"Quack, quack," says the baby.

While at the ER last week (more on that later), we tried to keep the kids entertained. My brilliant husband thought to grab coloring books and crayons as we walked out the door, but The Boy prefers human interaction. That's a nice way of saying he wants to be in your arms as much as humanly possible. You can occasionally get a break if he's up for crawling around a bit or if he has food. With all the ickiness at the ER, the first option was out. Food, however, was a big hit.

At one point, we showed him one of his books with pictures of animals. We reviewed what the animals say. His very favorite animal, though, is the duck. So when we reminded him that the duck says, "Quack, quack," he was all grins.

We eventually went back to snacks. The Boy wanted a carot stick, but since he has mastered signing, "Please," he's got to do that before he gets food. So I asked him, "What do you say?" He got a giant grin and said in this scratchy voice, "QUACK QUACK." :-)

I fought the curb and the curb won.

This could also be titled:
When concrete attacks
or
Oy Vey.

I'm taking a page from The House That Jack Built. or perhaps I'm thinking of Bringing the rain to Kapiti Plain . Either way, follow along.

This is the zoo where we went today (I purposely covered the sign 'cause I like to at least try to keep my location fairly ambiguous. Although, I must give credit where it's due and tell you I didn't take this picture. I stole it from someone else's site and then altered it).

Here are the elephants playing in the zoo where we went today.

Okay, so I admit I didn't actually get a picture of the elephants. You can all deal.

Here is the elephant statue where I took pictures of the big kids across from the elephants playing at the zoo where we went today.



Here is the curb that I tripped over and sprained my freaking ankle just after taking a picture of the kids by the elephant statue across from the elephants playing at the zoo where we went today.



Here are the giraffes that I managed to walk to insisting I was fine until my ankle hurt too badly to go on a long ways away from the sonofabitch curb that attacked me just after taking a picture of the kids by the elephant statue across from the elephants playing at the zoo where we went today.

This is the ankle all swollen and sore which achingly carried me all the way back to the car from the giraffes that I managed to walk to insisting I was fine until my ankle hurt too badly to go on a long ways away from that evil evil curb which damn near tried to kill me just after I took a picture of the kids by the elephant statue across from the elephants playing at the zoo where we went today.



There's no picture of me all embarassed and annoyed because it's all myown damn fault that I injured my freaking ankle all swollen and sore which achingly carried me all the way back to the car from the giraffes that I managed to walk to insisting I was fine until my ankle hurt too badly to go on a long ways away from that wicked evil curb of death just after I took a picture of the kids by the elephant statue across from the elephants playing at the zoo where we went today.

To be continued...

FTR: Yes, I did go back and purposely take pictures of the statue sans kidlets and that CURB OF DEATH. The only thing that kept me from crying as I was hobbling my way to my car was the thought, "I'm so going to blog this."

Fun with mispronunciation

Girl1 has a difficult time pronouncing the "st" sound. When it comes first in a word, she often replaces it with a "d" sound. This has lead to hours of amusement when she tries to say the word "stick."

We went out to eat over the weekend. Dh got a burger that had one of those sticks with the celophane flaggy type things on the top. Girl1 wanted it. Here's the conversation that ensued:

Girl1: May I have your dick?
Dh: No. You always play with it and then you break it.

By that point, I was literally rolling around laughing like crazy.

Barber, baby, bubbles and a bumble bee

Once again, my gratitude is extended to Dr. Seuss and his insanely addictive ABC book (I swear I can still recite the entire book from memory and my kids haven't touched that book in 2 years).

I've gone back to the gratitude thing which I seem to have abandoned. I got the letter B. Let's begin:

1. Babies: I'm oh so thankful for the one I have and for the fact that we are in fact planning on having another one.

2. Birth: It doesn't have to be an over managed, hospital-bound, illness. It can be a wonderfully empowering thing. For that, I am amazed and oh so thankful. I'm also thrilled that through my belief in birth, I have come to know some wonderful, brilliant, funny determined people who support education about birth. In that breath, I must also say that I'm thankful that medical interventions do exist. I wish they were reserved for when they're truly necessary, but I am glad they are an option. Without them, I would be dead. I am one of the rare few people who apparently does have a bone structure that was too small to allow the size baby I had to pass. Please note, however, that while many doctors use that as a threat for early induction or c-section, it's actually very rare.

3. Bands: Where would we be without music? I can't answer that, but I can assure you that it would be a pretty boring place.

4. Barefoot in the summer: It is simply not summer until I have run barefoot through the yard.

5. Baths: Soaking in a hot bath is heavenly.

6. Bath oil/bubble bath: See above. Even better with sweet scented moisturizing goodness.

7: Beach: I'm a pisces. I love the water. My very favorite place in the world to be is on the beach (although I prefer it when it's warm).

8. Beds: At the end of the day, I'm exhausted. I'm glad there's a nice warm soft place for me to collapse.

9. Bakers: I'm all about the shoes. I got some of my all time favorite shoes from this place when we lived in a different state over 10 years ago. So when I walked into a mall a few weeks ago and saw a Bakers Shoes, I damn near had an orgasm. I love that place.

10. Books: I simply cannot put into words how much I adore books. Other people, however, can.

"I cannot live without books." Thomas Jefferson


"I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library. Jorge Luis Borges


"The library is the temple of learning, and learning has liberated more people than all the wars in history. Carl Thomas Rowan


"Books may well be the only true magic." Alice Hoffman


"For books are more than books. They are the life, the very heart and core of ages past, the reason why men lived and worked and died, the essence and quintessence of their lives." Amy Lowell

Too smart for OUR good.

While we were sitting at the restaurant waiting for our food, The Boy started signing "Please," so I shared my water with him. Soon, though, it became apparent that he was hungry. Water was just not cutting it for him. I told him the food would come soon, but he was still annoyed. Finally, I told him, "I have no food. What do you want me to do? There's no food." It was then that he pointed over to a recently vacated table, still loaded with leftover food and said, "Right dare."

Last week, we were in a store and dh couldn't find me. He was holding The Boy at the time and dh asked out loud, "Where is your mother?" The Boy pointed and said, "Right dare." Sure enough, dh walked in the direction The Boy had pointed and there I was. When dh told me what had happened, he misquoted the baby. Dh told me The Boy said, 'Over dare." Well, The Boy (who was still in dh's arms) points right at me and says "RIGHT dare," with an emphasis on the word "Right (as should be evident by my use of caps)."

The baby corrected his father.

This kid is too freaking smart for our own good.

Welcome to my world.

That's the view from my front door. My whole world pretty much looks like that right now and there's another storm coming. Happy happy, joy joy!

My new mantra

I saw this in a scrapbook magazine and I have since adopted it as my new mantra:

"Everything is always okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end."

I love it. It sums up things quite perfectly.

FYI: We're staying here and planning to try for another baby some time in the future. If anyone can help us through this, it's my midwives.

Sacrifice

No commentary from me on this. I just came across this and figured I'd share:

Olbermann: Special comment about 'sacrifice'
BBC reports Bush will reveal troop surge plan in sacrifice-themed speech
SPECIAL COMMENT
By Keith Olbermann
Anchor, 'Countdown'
Updated: 7:27 p.m. CT Jan 2, 2007

If in your presence an individual tried to sacrifice an American serviceman or woman, would you intervene?

Would you at least protest?

What if he had already sacrificed 3,003 of them?

What if he had already sacrificed 3,003 of them — and was then to announce his intention to sacrifice hundreds, maybe thousands, more?

This is where we stand tonight with the BBC report of President Bush’s “new Iraq strategy,” and his impending speech to the nation, which, according to a quoted senior American official, will be about troop increases and “sacrifice.”

The president has delayed, dawdled and deferred for the month since the release of the Iraq Study Group.

He has seemingly heard out everybody, and listened to none of them.

If the BBC is right — and we can only pray it is not — he has settled on the only solution all the true experts agree cannot possibly work: more American personnel in Iraq, not as trainers for Iraqi troops, but as part of some flabby plan for “sacrifice.”

Sacrifice!

More American servicemen and women will have their lives risked.

More American servicemen and women will have their lives ended.

More American families will have to bear the unbearable and rationalize the unforgivable —“sacrifice” — sacrifice now, sacrifice tomorrow, sacrifice forever.

And more Americans — more even than the two-thirds who already believe we need fewer troops in Iraq, not more — will have to conclude the president does not have any idea what he’s doing — and that other Americans will have to die for that reason.

It must now be branded as propaganda — for even the president cannot truly feel that very many people still believe him to be competent in this area, let alone “the decider.”

But from our impeccable reporter at the Pentagon, Jim Miklaszewski, tonight comes confirmation of something called “surge and accelerate” — as many as 20,000 additional troops —f or “political purposes” ...

This, in line with what we had previously heard, that this will be proclaimed a short-term measure, for the stated purpose of increasing security in and around Baghdad, and giving an Iraqi government a chance to establish some kind of order.

This is palpable nonsense, Mr. Bush.

If this is your intention — if the centerpiece of your announcement next week will be “sacrifice” — sacrifice your intention, not more American lives!

As Sen. Joseph Biden has pointed out, the new troops might improve the ratio our forces face relative to those living in Baghdad (friend and foe), from 200 to 1, to just 100 to 1.

“Sacrifice?”

No.

A drop in the bucket.

The additional men and women you have sentenced to go there, sir, will serve only as targets.

They will not be there “short-term,” Mr. Bush; for many it will mean a year or more in death’s shadow.

This is not temporary, Mr. Bush.

For the Americans who will die because of you, it will be as permanent as it gets.

The various rationales for what Mr. Bush will reportedly re-christen “sacrifice” constitute a very thin gruel, indeed.

The former labor secretary, Robert Reich, says Sen. John McCain told him that the “surge” would help the “morale” of the troops already in Iraq.

If Mr. McCain truly said that, and truly believes it, he has either forgotten completely his own experience in Vietnam ... or he is unaware of the recent Military Times poll indicating only 38 percent of our active military want to see more troops sent ... or Mr. McCain has departed from reality.

Then there is the argument that to take any steps toward reducing troop numbers would show weakness to the enemy in Iraq, or to the terrorists around the world.

This simplistic logic ignores the inescapable fact that we have indeed already showed weakness to the enemy, and to the terrorists.

We have shown them that we will let our own people be killed for no good reason.

We have now shown them that we will continue to do so.

We have shown them our stupidity.

Mr. Bush, your judgment about Iraq — and now about “sacrifice” — is at variance with your people’s, to the point of delusion.

Your most respected generals see no value in a “surge” — they could not possibly see it in this madness of “sacrifice.”

The Iraq Study Group told you it would be a mistake.

Perhaps dozens more have told you it would be a mistake.

And you threw their wisdom back, until you finally heard what you wanted to hear, like some child drawing straws and then saying “best two out of three … best three out of five … hundredth one counts.”

Your citizens, the people for whom you work, have told you they do not want this, and moreover, they do not want you to do this.

Yet once again, sir, you have ignored all of us.

Mr. Bush, you do not own this country!

To those Republicans who have not broken free from the slavery of partisanship — those bonded still, to this president and this administration, and now bonded to this “sacrifice” —proceed at your own peril.

John McCain may still hear the applause of small crowds — he has somehow inured himself to the hypocrisy, and the tragedy, of a man who considers himself the ultimate realist, courting the votes of those who support the government telling visitors to the Grand Canyon that it was caused by the Great Flood.

That Mr. McCain is selling himself off to the irrational right, parcel by parcel, like some great landowner facing bankruptcy, seems to be obvious to everybody but himself.

Or, maybe it is obvious to him and he simply no longer cares.

But to the rest of you in the Republican Party:

We need you to speak up, right now, in defense of your country’s most precious assets — the lives of its citizens who are in harm’s way.

If you do not, you are not serving this nation’s interests — nor your own.

November should have told you this.

The opening of the new Congress on Wednesday and Thursday should tell you this.

Next time, those missing Republicans will be you.

And to the Democrats now yoked to the helm of this sinking ship, you proceed at your own peril, as well.

President Bush may not be very good at reality, but he and Mr. Cheney and Mr. Rove are still gifted at letting American troops be killed, and then turning their deaths to their own political advantage.

The equation is simple. This country does not want more troops in Iraq.

It wants fewer.

Go and make it happen, or go and look for other work.

Yet you Democrats must assume that even if you take the most obvious of courses, and cut off funding for the war, Mr. Bush will ignore you as long as possible, or will find the money elsewhere, or will spend the money meant to protect the troops, and re-purpose it to keep as many troops there as long as he can keep them there.

Because that’s what this is all about, is it not, Mr. Bush?

That is what this “sacrifice” has been for.

To continue this senseless, endless war.

You have dressed it up in the clothing, first of a hunt for weapons of mass destruction, then of liberation ... then of regional imperative ... then of oil prices ... and now in these new terms of “sacrifice” — it’s like a damned game of Colorforms, isn’t it, sir?

This senseless, endless war.

But — it has not been senseless in two ways.

It has succeeded, Mr. Bush, in enabling you to deaden the collective mind of this country to the pointlessness of endless war, against the wrong people, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

It has gotten many of us used to the idea — the virtual “white noise” — of conflict far away, of the deaths of young Americans, of vague “sacrifice” for some fluid cause, too complicated to be interpreted except in terms of the very important-sounding but ultimately meaningless phrase “the war on terror.”

And the war’s second accomplishment — your second accomplishment, sir — is to have taken money out of the pockets of every American, even out of the pockets of the dead soldiers on the battlefield, and their families, and to have given that money to the war profiteers.

Because if you sell the Army a thousand Humvees, you can’t sell them any more until the first thousand have been destroyed.

The service men and women are ancillary to the equation.

This is about the planned obsolescence of ordnance, isn’t, Mr. Bush? And the building of detention centers? And the design of a $125 million courtroom complex at Gitmo, complete with restaurants.

At least the war profiteers have made their money, sir.

And we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.

You have insisted, Mr. Bush, that we must not lose in Iraq, that if we don’t fight them there we will fight them here — as if the corollary were somehow true, that if by fighting them there we will not have to fight them here.

And yet you have re-made our country, and not re-made it for the better, on the premise that we need to be ready to “fight them here,” anyway, and always.

In point of fact even if the civil war in Iraq somehow ended tomorrow, and the risk to Americans there ended with it, we would have already suffered a defeat — not fatal, not world-changing, not, but for the lives lost, of enduring consequence.

But this country has already lost in Iraq, sir.

Your policy in Iraq has already had its crushing impact on our safety here.

You have already fomented new terrorism and new terrorists.

You have already stoked paranoia.

You have already pitted Americans, one against the other.

We ... will have to live with it.

We ... will have to live with what — of the fabric of our nation — you have already “sacrificed.”

The only object still admissible in this debate is the quickest and safest exit for our people there.

But you — and soon, Mr. Bush, it will be you and you alone — still insist otherwise.

And our sons and daughters and fathers and mothers will be sacrificed there tonight, sir, so that you can say you did not “lose in Iraq.”

Our policy in Iraq has been criticized for being indescribable, for being inscrutable, for being ineffable.

But it is all too easily understood now.

First we sent Americans to their deaths for your lie, Mr. Bush.

Now we are sending them to their deaths for your ego.

If what is reported is true — if your decision is made and the “sacrifice” is ordered — take a page instead from the man at whose funeral you so eloquently spoke this morning — Gerald Ford:

Put pragmatism and the healing of a nation ahead of some kind of misguided vision.

Atone.

Sacrifice, Mr. Bush?

No, sir, this is not “sacrifice.” This has now become “human sacrifice.”

And it must stop.

And you can stop it.

Next week, make us all look wrong.

Our meaningless sacrifice in Iraq must stop.

And you must stop it.

cookies and budgets

That is really interesting. It's all about the budget and American spending explained using Oreos.

Go check it out.

Friends + alcohol + boobs = fun

I have the best friends in the world.

Last night, for the first time in years, I had more than one drink. Actually, I had 3--two big-ass mixed drinks (which were probably the equivalent of 4 drinks) and then a glass of wine. I also had lots of great conversation and a friend who declared herself the designated driver. WOO HOO.

We hit one place and chatted while I drank (it's very strange to go out drinking when the person you're with isn't drinking. I was afraid of making an ass of myself). Then they closed and we went looking for somewhere else to frequent. We passed Hooters. I said, "I've never been to Hooters." She said, "I haven't either." Then we both said in unison, "Let's go to Hooters." And so we did.

Now, I don't do beer. I just can't stand the taste. And yeah, that's what Hooters is all about (well, other than the obvious). I felt like such a dork because I got a glass of white zinfandel. Although, I also got a plate of the hottest wings they have (and ate them happily. While good, they were far from too hot for me). So I guess that gives me back some cool points. :-)

I had a great time and while tired in the morning, I didn't have anything remotely resembling a hangover. Woo hoo!

So yay for friends, alcohol, hotwings, oh and breasts too. :-)

I would like to direct your attention

to this utterly FABULOUS post by Giselle: Hospital Birth and Rape

Forget Xmas, we need a little funny

right this very minute. Although, maybe we can forgo the candles in the window and the carols at the spinet.

I need a giggle right now, so enjoy these:

My husband has named the dog’s stuffed bear YourNuts. This way, dh can ask, "Where's YourNuts?" The amusement is unending.

And now a word from my kids:

Yesterday, I overheard the girls playing. Girl2 tells her sister, "The kids aren't with me today. One is with her dad and my other kid is getting fixed."

A few weeks ago, dh and I stepped away from the table and when we came back, we found both girls had left. When faced with the question, "Did you ask to be excused," Girl1 replied, "Yes. I asked my sister and she asked me. We excused each other."

My first lesson of 2007

Here's what I learned thus far this year:

No matter how long or how fast I run on the treadmill, I cannot run away from my problems.

I'm hoping to soon find out if mass quantities of alcohol will help.

Short version of the story, my pelvis is too small.

I shouldn't have let my hopes rise. I should have kept insisting we were just done. But I got ahead of myself and started thinking the test results would have good news. I was wrong.

To be fair, I must say there are some things that can be done to make the likeliehood of a normal delivery more likely, but even if they make a huge difference, there's no guarantee that would be enough. Plus it puts a huge strain on my family and me.

So now I just don't know.

All I know is that I want a drink...

and to kick my pelvis' ass.

But um...yeah. You see the inherent problem here.

About family

I came across these and fell in love. So of course I must share the love. Here are some thoughts on families:

The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you. ~Kendall Hailey, The Day I Became an Autodidact

Families are like fudge... mostly sweet with a few nuts. ~Author Unknown

The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard

Family is just accident.... They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are. ~Marsha Norman

Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present, and future. ~Gail Lumet Buckley

Wow!

If you look to the left, you'll see Kamrin's Karma on the top of my blogroll. I know Kamrin IRL and I adore her. In short, she kicks ass for oh so many reasons.

I read this today and I am just in awe. Go read that now. You won't regret it.

Just because this makes me laugh

Here's a cartoon for ya

Amazon & the hidden 30-day price guarantee

Ohhhhh, now THIS is interesting.