It's the World Beer Festival, Baby

This past weekend was the World Beer Festival here in our hometown. A city square was fenced in and a couple hundred different brewers were present to pass out 2 ounces samples of their craft. Guy and I were interested in going, but not motivated to do so.

Not motivated, that is, until Boo called Saturday evening and offered us 2 tickets to go that night. Turns out it was $40 per person to get in, and they had 2 tickets that were going to go unused. We couldn't let that happen.

I strapped on the Moby and we headed downtown with Bird.

Yes, we took our 3 month old son to the World Beer Festival. We've both been to beer festivals before, and they were civilized events with a few drunk people here and there. Because really? It's completely lame to get plastered on 2 ounces of beer at a a time.

Little did we know, the people in our town are lame. And going to a beer festival in Europe? Slightly different than going to one here.

It was a drunk fest. As we made our way through the tent, some guy tried to offer Bird some beer. Even though he was just kidding, he got way too close for my comfort and my hand and arm came flailing up in defense. I was figuring out quickly that Bird and I needed to get out of the crowd and into the open night air to listen to the band while Guy got his tastes.

Outside, it was a beautiful night. It was warm, but there was a nice breeze blowing. The band sucked, but we were enjoying them anyway. As long as we stood away from the smokers, it was nice being out and about with Guy and Bird.

The strangest part of the whole night though was the varying reactions I received for having a 3 month old strapped to the front of me at the World Beer Festival. Most people were friendly and just cooed over him as they passed. A couple of moms stopped to talk baby and tell me about their kids that were at home. A few people got to hear Guy's joke that Bird was our designated driver.

What really got me though, was the drunk 20 something who stood with her friends and sneered to them as we walked past, "Is that allowed?"

I was being judged as a mother. I know it won't be the last time. It pissed me off, but not enough to waste any energy on it. I knew that I was taking care of my baby and doing something that Guy really wanted to do all at the same time.

If we had known how the event really was going to be, would we still have gone and taken Bird with us? Probably not because we both hate crowds. We got there, stayed for about 45 minutes, and then headed back to the house. It was a fun outing, and I'm proud of us for being spontaneous.

I hope when Miss Sneerybutt grows up and has kids of her own, she will remember that she is still allowed to go out and have some fun. I already feel a little sorry for her future children.

Three months is a lifetime

Christopher is 3 months old now. It his lifetime in its entirety, but it feels like that is when my life started too. Becoming a mother hasn't been a graceful transition for me, but my boys have been very patient, and I feel like we are totally over the hump now.

Yesterday he weighed 13 pounds, 13 ounces and was 25 1/2 inches long. Here are some pictures of my little man to help you reach your cuteness quota of the day.

Because I'm not that important really

So I've been thinking a lot about this blogging thing, and I've decided to stay put. Too many wonderful things have come from it, and I don't want to take everything down and start over again.

They are my words. My thoughts. Shared here because it's something that I enjoy.

Besides, Andria is right. She would just find it again anyway, and I'm not going to switch to an invitation only format. There are too many of you that I don't know who are here, and I'm glad you are.

The bottom line is that it's not my responsibility to change Wife #1, nor do I want to. She is an adult that makes her own decisions. Lovely is her daughter and she chooses to treat her however she wants to treat her.

My blog has nothing to do with that. If it weren't the blog, it would be something else. Apparently there is some deep need to know as much as she can about what is going on in our lives, and even without my words as information, she would be grilling Lovely like she is now.

There is the off chance that she isn't reading the blog (off chance meaning that Sitemeter would be a big fat liar), in which case, she is following us again. I'm sure the sheriff I talked to the first time she was following us would be happy to know if she was at it again.

I want for Lovely to have a good relationship with her mother. It is best for her that she does. Until now, I have made decisions not to attend events, answer my own phone, and other things just to try and protect Lovely from embarrassment at her mother's behavior or from the yelling she has to endure when she returns to her mother's house.

Today is when I stop doing things just to try and control an outcome at her mother's house. It doesn't work. Regardless of what I do, she is who she is, and Lovely has to learn to handle it. She loves her mother very much, and hopefully, that will be enough.

So the blog is staying put, and I'm going to go back to writing about my life. Which doesn't include Wife #1.

Here's the can and there are worms everywhere

I have always read mommyblogs. The first two that I started reading were Kristen and Zoot. From there, I just followed links and made my way through the mommyblogosphere finding other blogs that I liked as well.

I wasn't a mommy then. I wasn't even pregnant.

After several months of blogging for me, my friend Bach, and Susan, I did get pregnant. Somewhere along the lines, other people started reading here, and when I had my miscarriage, out came the comments of support from people I didn't even know were there. I soon discovered sitemeter and technorati and the fact that there is a whole community of bloggers who can become your friends.

Now that I am a mommy, I find myself at a loss for words in this space. I've talked extensively about breastfeeding, and it was extremely helpful to have everyone supporting me through that. I wouldn't still be nursing today without it.

But really, I don't know what else to say anymore. I'm not sure I can find my voice as a blogger who has become a mommy. I'm not sure that my voice as just me can speak freely either.

There is a problem. Lovely's mother reads these words and then plays Spanish Inquisition with her about the bits and pieces she learns here. That is completely unfair to Lovely. I try to not let the knowledge that Guy's Ex comes here factor into my writing, but of course I do put a censor on some things because of it. Now that a simple post about house hunting caused Lovely pain upon returning to her mom's house, I question whether or not even having the blog is worth it.

Of course, the Ex claims not to read it. She claims not to be here. So I'm banking on the fact that if she really wants for her daughter to believe that, she won't hold this post against Lovely and be angry for her telling us that she is tired of getting yelled at and having questions about us fired at her. Because if she does, then Lovely will know that she is lying when she tells her she doesn't read my words.

It's hard to know what to do.

I don't want to keep up a boring blog just to have it simply exist.

I don't want to give Guy's ex-wife information to hold against her daughter.

I don't want to quit writing though.

By the way, while I'm outing the Ex, I should mention that she prefers to go by "Wife #1" which is okay with me. I would much rather be Guy's second and last wife than the first wife anyway. Out of respect to her wishes, I'll stop calling her the Ex and make the polite switch to Wife #1. That should make her somewhat happy.

Edited to add:
Please don't leave disparaging comments about Wife #1 since this isn't her space and she can't really defend herself here except through leaving a comment. I don't want it to turn into a comment war. Besides, I know what you cats are capable of with your words. Hissssss.

Weeeee-nors, as my brother would call them

I held a couple of contests a million years ago. You might not even remember. One was the "Bird Pool." The other was the "Guess how big my knockers are going to get."

Thrilling, I know.

The long awaited announcement is before you.

Katy, who I'm assuming is the wonderful Katy from Mom22Teens is the winner of the Bird Pool. She was eerily accurate. Much more so than even my Turkish psychic friend. Katy, if you will email me, I'll send you a lovely Sirius radio as your prize. You have to activate it, but if you do, it might give you access to the outside world unheard of in your land of dial up and mountains. Hee hee.

The winner of the Boob Pool is Stephanie from Lawyer Mama. She has probably forgotten that she even rendered a guess, but she was pretty close. My nursing bras have settled in at a lovely 38H. WooHoo! Stephanie, if you will email me, I'll send you the Pennyrich Bra Patch t-shirt I promised.

Thus endeth the contests. Congratulations, ladies, and thank you to everyone who participated!

The baby who doesn't sleep

Here he is. Mr. Kickypants. Mr. I Need No Sleep Baby. Stinkybottomus. Squirtapottomus. Mr. Bippy. Sir Kicks-a-Lot.

Bird.

I love him.

Haunted house hunting

We've been doing a little house hunting. Guy's commute is killer, and as much as I love where we are and love this house, it's not worth having him on a dangerous stretch of I-40 in stupid crazy traffic day in and day out. He wants to move, and I'll of course, go with him.

Yesterday we saw some great houses. They aren't exactly where we would like for them to be, but they had the lay out we need and were reasonably priced.

With the exception of two.

The first exception was the very first house. It was in a newish subdivision and had everything we wanted down to the double ovens (once you've had double ovens, you can never go back). The only issue was getting in to see it.

Our realtor had made an appointment, but when we arrived, there were people there. Tenants. Tenants with very little English vocabulary. They refused to leave so we could see the house, and our realtor refused to leave without seeing the house. A stalemate.

A few moments of staredown and our realtor moved in. It was unnecessary, as the house was run down and smelled of all kinds of smoke. The master bedroom was locked and they would not let us in to see it. We decided it was where they were growing their pot. Turns out, those tenants have been evicted, and are currently just squatting in the house, refusing to let it be shown. Nice.

The other exception was a house not on our list, but in the same neighborhood as one we liked. It was the same price, so we went in for comparison. The outside was quite lovely, and showed no signs of the creepiness to follow.

The first thing we noticed when we walked in the house was the smell. Whereas the unruly tenants were probably growing weed, this homeowner must have been growing nasty silk flowers drenched in cheap perfume in some closet with blue lights.

The next thing you noticed was the music. The house featured an intercom system that was piping the creepiest modern choral music I've ever heard throughout the entire house. It was as though there was someone on the other side of a screen shouting at us, "Don't go in there! Don't go in there!"

Instead of looking lived in, the home had been staged. The pantry was eerily posed with two boxes of cereal placed at an angle. The dining room table was set with fine china and a giant floral arrangement that featured tropical flowers and artichokes. There were even clothes in the closet, but arranged like a catalog, not like someone actually dressed there daily.

The horror flick was complete when we went upstairs and found two disturbingly staged bedrooms. Each bedroom had a twin bed and a nightstand with no other furniture. In one room, there was a stuffed dog on the end of the bed like a child had just tossed it there. There were uncompleted puzzles left on the floor, with the boxes stacked at the same carefully placed angle as the cereal boxes. The other bedroom was full of scary scary dolls. The dolls combined with the creepy choral music were enough to send us scampering quickly out of the house.

I wish I knew what notes our realtor will leave for that seller.

"Creepy house with a choppy layout. Evidence of children who met an untimely and tragic death particularly turned off the buyers."

Weird.

Survivor

In case you missed the news, my best friend kicked cancer's ass.

Please go congratulate her.

Woot!

Flying solo

I lacked confidence as a mother. I guess I shouldn't use the past tense there. I lack confidence as a mother, but have more now than I did a month ago.

It didn't seem like something that would be that hard. While I was nervous about impending motherhood while I was pregnant, deep down, I knew I could do it. I had confidence that I would figure it out.

Then came that day in the pediatrician's office when Bird was only 10 days old. The day that doctor looked at me over the top of his glasses and said in a shame inducing voice, "Your baby is crying because he is hungry. You are giving him enough to eat."

That was all it took for the wall of confidence I had to come crashing down around me.

Of course we know now that Bird was probably hungry, but more than that - much more than that - he had painful gas. He was crying because he hurt. His tummy hurt. Stupid doctor.

After that day, I dreaded being along with Bird. I just knew that I was missing all sorts of cues and misinterpreting the ones I did hear. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to console him. I was nervous about being able to put him down for a nap. Everyday tasks became huge events that I had to build up to starting in the early morning.

Then, Guy left for Korea. For a week. I was flying solo.

I cried every night the week before he left. I had nightmares about involuntarily pushing Bird off the bed. I had nightmares about dropping him. I had nightmares about having to take him to the ER for a sky high fever. I worked myself into a general frenzy.

No matter what state I was in, Guy still had to go to Korea. There was no getting around it. So a week ago Monday, he left. Bird and I dropped him off at the airport and drove home to our house full of dogs to figure what on earth we were to do next.

Something quite amazing happened. We found our rhythm.

I've been waiting since the day we brought him home to feel like we had found our rhythm. People kept telling me it would come. I'm so glad they were right.

All the things that Guy had been doing to keep the household running fell to me. Taking the trash out. Feeding the dogs. Holding and playing with Bird while I cooked dinner and did the dishes. All these things, which seem like little things, seemed like a giant void to me.

But we did it, Bird and I.

Bird can sit up in his slings now and face forward. That helped tremendously. Turns out, he loves riding around and doing chores. He likes feeding the dogs and the bird's eye view he gets of them dancing and drooling right before we put their bowls down. He likes watching me chop different colored vegetables. He likes being outside and the sound of the trashcan rolling on the driveway behind us.

We missed Guy most at bathtime. I love the hour or so we take in a bedtime ritual for Bird. Getting him clean and dressed for bed and then playing for awhile before he goes to sleep is the most perfect end to any day. But we even managed this on our own and I found myself enjoying the quiet alone with Bird to close out the evening.

It turns out, Guy's week in Korea was a gift. It forced me to step up and stop worrying so much. It allowed me to start to be myself again instead of being just a scared new mom. And I like that. I like that I'm starting to feel like my old self, just with the added bonus of being Bird's mom. I've missed me.

The best part of the week was still when we watched Guy pass through the gate and head towards us in the airport. I might have found a reason to be grateful for my time alone with Bird, but that doesn't mean I wasn't glad to see it end and have Guy back where he belongs.

Consumer baby report

Christopher is getting to be a real pro at riding around in his sling. We like our Peanut Shell the best right now, but still use our Lucky and our Moby. The Peanut is just easiest to get in and out of, so around the house I like tossing it on, putting him in, and getting some stuff done.

He can ride facing out now, so he can see the world. That's the part he really likes I think. That, and being snuggled up against his mom. I like the snuggly part.

Now that he's gained a good bit of head control, I'm going to order a Baby Hawk. I say that, but I haven't done it because I keep picking out fabric and then changing my mind. Too many choices.

It's been interesting figuring out what we need and what we don't need. I thought we wouldn't need a lightweight stroller because we got a jogging stroller and I planned to wear him out and about. Turns out a lightweight stroller moved over to the need column when we figured out that going to the mall or to restaurants was much easier if we could put him down in the stroller sometimes.

I didn't think we needed a bouncy seat or a swing because again, I had planned on wearing him while doing housework and such. That's a fine plan, but the bouncy seat we have in the bathroom is divine although hideously ugly. It's nice to be able to pee or put on makeup without a baby strapped to you. The swing we have in the dining room allows for Bird to be part of mealtime without having to be in someone's lap, forcing them to eat with one hand.

Something I have but don't use are baby pants. For some reason, I never put pants on Bird. We have some baby leggings that I made from knee socks, and he wears those if it's cold enough outside. His dad hates them, but I think they are adorable. They also make for much easier diaper changes. Mostly though, we just pop on a onesie and some socks for the day. I love his chubby little thighs.

We got the Moses basket, but don't really use it. He likes his cradle that his dad refinished much better. The crib is used for naps, but we are still mostly co-sleeping at night. The rocking chair gets used for book time, but we swaddle and walk to fall asleep.

I didn't think I would use a breast pump because I thought I would just nurse. My Sil talked me into buying one at an incredible deal at Target. I have used the heck out of it. Turns out he likes to eat a lot in the afternoons. Exactly when I'm teaching.

We are using gDiapers mostly. His dad hates those too, so I keep some disposable on hand for when he's on diaper duty, but I love the gDiapers. They are reusable diapers with flushable inserts. I haven't been flushing the inserts because we have been under a serious drought, but even throwing them away, they only last for 3 days in a landfill. Or you can compost the wet ones. I think it is a great compromise for someone who doesn't want to do cloth diapers but doesn't like the thought of disposable diapers hanging around the planet for 500 years.

A friend came to visit two weeks ago and commented that our house was not overrun with baby things. That made me happy. We have ended up with more baby gear than I anticipated, but overall, it is still our family's house, not just the baby's.

And the rice milk ain't bad either

Somewhere along these last couple of weeks, breastfeeding quit being a chore. I stopped crying over it. I stopped watching the clock, dreading the next time I would need to nurse my child. He stopped screaming and thrashing about while nursing. He stopped needing to be nursed several times an hour during parts of the day.

I meant to blog about it. Come here and share with you the success story. To be honest, it feels so natural now that I just forgot about it.

Then, this weekend, that all came crashing down.

Bird was screaming and thrashing again. He had painful gas that I couldn't seem to help him release. He needed to be nursed, but when I nursed him, he chewed and twisted my nipples until I could barely take it anymore. His diapers were full of green mucous poop, and he was generally miserable.

I remembered then, that I needed to write about the success. Having a weekend like that made me so grateful for the peace we had been experiencing and the lack of discomfort in my child.

I tried my best to figure out what I had eaten that had the evil dairy in it. All I could come up with was a handful of potato chips with some cheese flavoring. It didn't seem like enough.

Yesterday afternoon it hit me. Bird's nanny came an extra day last week because of my students' recital Friday night. I hadn't pumped enough milk for the extra time away, so she pulled some out of the freezer like I had instructed her to do weeks ago.

The milk from the freezer was from when I was still eating dairy.

There is no guessing now. I don't have to just wonder if cutting out the dairy was what helped him or something else. I think it is pretty obvious.

Today, Bird is back to what has become his normal bubbly little self. He is nursing without hurting me, and I'm nursing him without hurting him.

For everyone who told me their story
For everyone who told me not to give up
For everyone who told me that I was doing a good job
For everyone who told me it just takes time
For everyone who told me that it would get better

Thank you. You were so right.

Goldilocks needs a t-shirt

On the off chance that a bored fashion designer might read this post, I have a request.

I would like to have some fitted t-shirts that allow for a large chest. I'm stuck wearing t-shirts that still look like maternity shirts, swimming all around my midsection, just so I can fit my boobs in them. I am ready to look put together again. Please.

These t-shirts would be more generous in the bust. The arm holes would be adjusted so that the shirt isn't stretched out of shape in the armpits. The shoulder line would fall a little lower to give the illusion that my shoulders are wider than my breasts (which they aren't).

The cute cap sleeves would be a little bit longer so that they at least reach my bust line. Bare arms next to boobs accentuate them even more.

Most of all, these t-shirts would be longer so that they don't ride up over the top of my pants. My boobs take up so much of a t-shirt that the poor shirt that I need little suspenders at the bottom of the shirt just to keep it from constantly climbing up my belly. I got over showing belly exactly 12 weeks ago today.

I am 35 years old. My postpartum body is alright with me. Really, it is.

I would like, however, some t-shirts that fit.

Maybe they exist already and I just haven't found them? If you know of any, please leave me a link. I'm due to be locked up by the fashion police any day now.

Adding to the staticstics with me

I am such a dork. The days when Christopher doesn't nap, I long for a respite. I want for him to go down so badly, just so I can cook something or type with two hands for a moment.

Now? He's been asleep for almost 2 1/2 hours, and I desperately want him to wake up. I miss him.

An old friend came over for dinner tonight. She and her husband are splitting. They have two little girls - twins who are almost five. It is not easy for her now, putting it mildly.

We met because my ex-husband and I used to play in a band with her soon to be ex. Our then husbands were cut from the same cloth really, except I always thought hers had more drive. Hell, a broken down tractor had more drive than my ex. The four of us used to do things together, but had drifted apart through the many changes in our lives.

Our dinner conversation was interesting. Her soon to be ex-husband has a girlfriend. My friend and I talked some about how she deals with the fact that this woman will be in her girls' lives. Coming at it from a stepmom's perspective, I think she will handle it very well.

No two situations are ever completely alike though, and I don't know this girlfriend. What I do know is that if she is smart, she will never try to fill the role of mother for these girls. Daddy may have a new wife, but the kids don't need a new mother. It doesn't work like that. My friend is confident enough that she isn't threatened, and she wants for her girls to be happy and like this woman no matter how she feels about her. I'm really proud of her.

Looking back on our marriages, we both felt like we were holding everything together on our own. I didn't have children, so it was easier to let go when I finally realized that was an option. For my friend, she wanted her family to stay together, and I understand that. What I saw on her face tonight though, was the same happy-sad relief I remember, when she talked about how much easier it was on her own. I understood that.

She was there for me so many times when I was desperately trying to have a family with my first husband. She was so supportive.

I really hope that I can now return the favor. She deserves to be happy. Facing this new life, she especially deserves to be happy.

And maybe I'll miss her ex from time to time because we used to be friends. But I remember how it felt when all of my friends except one dumped me for my ex. The martyr. The fun one. The one who needed more help. Her ex will be just fine without me as a friend.

I'll be standing by C and reminding her of how strong she is and cheering her onto the happiness that she deserves.

Cloudy and a chance of rain

My daddy called me last night. I have a confession. I have been avoiding talking to him on the phone.

It's not that I don't miss him and don't want to talk to him, I do. But talking to him on the phone doesn't make those feelings go away because it doesn't feel like my daddy I'm talking to.

Last night, I couldn't understand much of what he was saying. He has been to speech therapy, and from what I've been told, it has helped. However, at the end of the day, if he is tired and on the phone, he is still very hard to understand.

He gave me the weather report for where they live. He always tells me about the weather. There is a chance of storms this weekend, and he is worried about them. He always worries about things now.

He and Momma are coming back for a visit and Christopher's baptism in June. He knows they are coming, but not when, so he always tells me that it will be soon. Sometimes he'll stop and ask my momma when exactly it is, but usually he will just say soon.

The confusion is disconcerting on the phone. It makes me uncomfortable some days. Whereas I used to enjoy talking to him for the conversation, now it's different. I'm not saying I don't ever enjoy talking to him. He's still my daddy. I still want to talk to him.

I worry about him though. I worry about whether or not he realizes how he comes across on the phone to me. I worry about whether or not he realizes how confused he sounds or how I can't understand what he is saying. I worry about if it suddenly occurs to him later that he called my youngest niece a boy and used male pronouns all the way through his story.

I worry because I think he would be embarrassed and I don't want him to be.

It's hard to not see him daily. I think that it would be easier to deal with if I saw him more often.

But I don't and I can't.

I sit over here, 12 hours away from him, wishing that I could pick up the phone and talk to him 10 years ago. I miss the advice. I miss the jokes that made sense. I miss the stories that I understood. I miss having a conversation that doesn't have anything to do with the weather.

I miss him. He's still here, and yet I miss him. I hope he doesn't know I feel that way.

Monday Monday

What a very typical Monday.

I put my husband on a plane to fly to the other side of the world and be gone for a week.

When I get home, I get to clean up dog pee from my geriatric pooch.

Right now? I should be working on the symphony scores that needed to be completed some time last week. I should be starting the second one that is simply an empty score right now. I should be being productive.

Instead, I accidentally plugged the headphones into a video jack. Freaked my little Viao right out. The screen looks like it gained 80 pounds. Everything is fat and wide now. And there is no sound.

In case you were wondering, having NO SOUND on your computer doesn't make it a good tool for music composition.

And my computer man, my main IT hot babe, my pc hottie? Is somewhere over the Pacific Ocean right about now. Dammit.

To top it all off, his ex-wife is calling the house leaving screaming voice mails. Someone really should tell her that screaming at people doesn't make them want to return the phone call. Especially from another country. Hey wait, I just did. Excellent.

I'm ready for some warmer weather full of sunshine. Bird and I have some more walking to do. The baby weight is gone. That's not a lot to celebrate though. I would like to put these size 14 jeans away for good. So walk we must. Plus, Bird digs it, and so do I. We like a good long walk.

Tuesday, I have higher hopes for you. An early morning visit from a friend, and later we'll have lunch with Bach. It will certainly be a better day.

So very quiet

Bird has been asleep for two hours now. The little boy hates to nap. Unless, of course, he's just eaten and using my boobie as a pillow. Most days I beg him to nap so that I can get something done. Today? I miss him and wish he would wake up now.

The house is so quiet. It was like this when Guy went back to work last year. It's too quiet.

He walks through the house singing silly songs, talking to the dogs, and calling out random thoughts to me. Having Guy around means continual, comforting noise.

In five minutes, he takes off from Atlanta and will land in Seoul. I'm uncharacteristically uneasy. Anxious. Worried. He will be in the air for 15 hours. There has never been 15 hours that I have not been able to be in touch with him. I feel terribly alone.

There are things to do this week. Packages to mail. Thank you notes, long overdue thank you notes, to write. Friends to visit with. Quilts to sew. Bird to feed and care for. It will pass.

I assure you though. One thing I will get done this week is getting passports for me and Bird. We don't want to be left behind again.

When you're having fun . . .

The pollen is out. I thought we were having an early spring with all this warm weather and sinus nastiness. Then I realized that it's April.

Where has the time gone? For months, it seemed like January would never get here, and now here it is April. And the taxes are due. Crap.

Next week, Guy will be in Korea. All week. Lovely will be at her mother's house. It will just be me and Christopher. And the dogs, of course. Every night this week, I've snuggled onto Guy's shoulder and waged a losing battle to fight back the tears. I don't want him to go.

Not only will I miss him, but I'm terrified of doing this baby thing alone. When it's 11:00 PM and Bird hasn't had a nap longer than 20 minutes all day but is still refusing to go to sleep? It's Guy that can get him snoozing. We have a bathtime routine that we do all three of us together every night. He gets up with the dogs in the morning and feeds them. He takes Bird while I clean up dinner and feed the dogs at night.

We have our thing. I don't know what I'm going to do without our thing.

Like pumping. Christopher somehow knows when I'm pumping and will pitch a royal fit until I stop. It doesn't matter if he just nursed. It doesn't matter if he's asleep. Somehow, it always happens that I can't pump unless someone else is watching him.

I need Guy. Or, you could just say that I really really want Guy around. Korea is not exactly around.

If anyone would like to come hang out with me next week, you are more than welcome. I'm not nearly the basketcase in person that I am when I write. Well, maybe I am. But you're still here, so I can't be that bad.

Little Miss Cheetah Pants

This is Hayleigh.

Today, Hayleigh is having her third heart surgery. Hayleigh is a very strong little girl who battles health issues that would put grown-ups to shame. She is amazing.

If you have a moment today to say a prayer or send a thought out West, please do so.

You could even send a comment her way at her mom's blog, Ladybugs and Lizards.

We are all rooting for you, Hayleighbug!