Five months

Look at you. Five months old already. I don't know how the time has passed so quickly. You've been sitting up for almost a month now. It amazes me.

You have this hearty, throaty belly laugh that when accompanied by that huge open mouth grin you like to flash makes my heart completely melt.

We still co-sleep, and if for some reason I leave you sleeping in your daddy's lap and go to bed without you, I miss you terribly. It's the one good thing about the house not being finished yet. There is no pressure for you to go to your own room because you still don't have one yet.

I'm sorry that you've been sick so much. This morning, you vomited twice after you woke up, simply from all of the mucous you swallowed during the night. I don't know why you and I are having such a hard time kicking stomach bugs and colds, because you are certainly a breastfed baby. But we are both having a hard time staying well. You are a really good sport about it though. Thank you for that.

You have already stopped looking like a little clone of your big brother. I thought for a few months there that I was going to have identical twins, two years apart. You've come into your own though, and I apologize profusely for the ears I have passed on to you. You will most likely get teased over them until your hair grows in to offset them a little bit.

Right. And you are still so very very bald. That just means I can nuzzle your head all the more.

I read all about how I would have room in my heart for both of my boys. It's not that I thought otherwise - I knew I would love all of my children - but I didn't realize how much all of that love would grow. My whole life has become submerged in the depth of love I have for my children.

So your brother, sweet Bird, made me who I am, but you, my little Squeak, you complete me.

You are my littlest love.

Shoe storage solution

This is my wine rack. I have moved it to the foyer, behind the front door, and filled it with shoes. We constantly have piles of shoes by the door, and it annoys me greatly. Since at least 50% of the time, they happen to be my own shoes, I figured a organizational solution rather than trying to train everyone to move their shoes all the time was a smart thing.

But this isn't about my mad organizational skillz. It's about that wine rack. Which now holds shoes. And not wine.

I love wine. I love Sonoma Chardonnay and Lodi Zinfandel. I love Two Buck Chuck, and I love $50 Nicholson Ranch Rose. I love most all wine. Especially if it's bubbly. That $10 Barefoot Bubbly you can get at the Harris Teeter? Oh my . . .

Here's the deal, though. If you are taking anti-depressants, then alcohol - being a depressant - seems like a bad idea. It even says so on the label of my beloved Zoloft.

More than that though, since I jumped on the wagon, I like myself better. I feel more in control. I feel like a better wife and mama. I don't look forward to 5:00. Every. Single. Day. I don't wonder if Kevin saw me refill my glass when I went back in the kitchen to wash dishes.

I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing to drink everyday. It's just bad for me.

So I don't. At all. I know myself, and I know my limits. Besides, I can guarantee that I drank enough up to this point in my life to cover the next 40 years of it. And did plenty of stupid stuff while doing it.

And now I have a great place to store shoes by the front door. Bonus.

The era of play

I had lunch with one of my oldest friends today. She is going to make an amazing mama one day. For now though, she is still taking notes. Literally. Which is funny, because some of the things she reminded me I said after Christopher was born are things I have totally thrown out the window now.

Like the soothing. I needed the five S's in that baby book so badly with Christopher. What I figured out this time around was that I needed them because I tried to have him on a nap schedule and bedtime schedule by the time he was 3 months old.

Dude.

I can't even imagine doing that with Colin now, and he's almost 5 months.

It's not that I necessarily think I was wrong with Christopher. Okay, about the nap thing, I was - but it's just that I'm so much more laid back this time around. I know everyone says that, but I'm talking lovely prescription drug induced anxiety quelled laid back.

Yeah, Colin still sleeps with us. No, I don't think he's going to still be sleeping with us when he's 10. Or even when he's one. I fully expect him to transition to his own bed. At some point. I just don't particularly care when.

Granted, with Christopher, I went back to work. Part-time, but still work. I had to pass him off to the nanny every afternoon, and keeping a work schedule made me feel much more rigid about him having a schedule too. Plus, I'm naturally uptight. Just saying.

HOWEVER.

We've moved into a new era here at Chez Canape. It's the era of play.

Play, play, play, all day, day, day.

We are all about getting to the pool, hitting up Marbles, visiting with our friends, going to Music Together, playing at North Hills, and whatever else we can find to do.

My new goal is to have tired, tired boys at the end of the day. Of course, we've been a little derailed by some summertime colds and the discovery of Jack's Big Music Show on at 9:00 AM, but I fully expect to be back in the swing of things by Thursday when we are meeting some friends at Marbles.

When we play, we learn. When we play, we're happy. When we play, we are connecting with each other. When we play, we are celebrating childhood.

When we play, we aren't keeping a perfect house. We aren't having gourmet meals every night. We aren't blogging as much. We aren't sewing as much. We are neglecting the piano.

But everything in life is just a phase. The dust can be swept up tomorrow or even the next day. And I can get back to writing and sewing next month or next year. For this afternoon, we danced to Elizabeth Mitchell and then simply had scrambled eggs for dinner.

It was a good day.

Photo of Kara's kiddos joining Christopher in an impromptu jam session with Colin playing roadie in the back. Now THAT'S what I'm talking about. Rocking.

World's best zucchini bread recipe

As with all great baking, use the recipe as a guide and your intuition as the final decision. Me? I just fill up the food processor with as much zucchini and apple as it will hold and go from there. Sometimes I use nuts, sometimes not. Sometimes I use yogurt or applesauce instead of oil. Once you've made this a few times, you will figure out what works for your family.

The best part is that Christopher thinks it's cake and eats it right up. I'm going to have to be one of those moms who sneaks veggies in, but that's another post altogether.

From Kevin's dear Aunt Lorraine, I give you Zucchini and Apple bread that will rock your world.

Zucchini Apple Bread

4 C all purpose flour
1 T baking soda
1/4 t baking powder
1 1/2 t salt
1 1/2 T cinnamon
1/2 t ground nutmeg
5 eggs
2 C sugar
1 C brown sugar
1 1/2 C vegetable oil
1 T vanilla
2 C shredded zucchini (about 3 medium)
1 C shredded apple (about 1 medium)
1 1/2 C chopped pecans

Combine first six ingredients, put aside. combine eggs, sugars, oil, and vanilla in a large bowl. Beat at medium speed until well blended. Stir in dry mixture. Stir in zucchini-apple mixture and pecans, stirring just until moistened. Spoon batter into 3 greased & floured loaf pans Bake at 350 for 50-55 minutes or until a wooden pick comes out clean. Cool in pans 10 minutes, remove to wire rack, and cool completely.

You can also do muffins for about 30-35 minutes and mini loaf pans for about 45 minutes.

Enjoy!

It's only fun if you play too

What's a girl to do when she's looking to regain her blogging mojo? Why, answer a list of random questions of course. Stolen from one of my most favorite bloggers, Miss Zoot, who stole it from someone else before herself. That's the way it works, you know.

30 Questions:

1. It’s 2AM and you are not home. You are more than likely:
Wishing I was at home and in the bed.

2. What’s the last thing you spent more than $100 on?
Not counting trips to the grocery store, I'm pretty sure that would be clothes for the boys. I have a slight Gymboree problem.

3. What do your bank checks look like?
Standard issue style from the bank. (Same answer as Zoot)

4. Where did the shirt you are currently wearing come from?
Swag from the music store where my ex-husband worked. Guitar strings.

5. Name something that will be on your Christmas wish list:
There are a couple of Anna Podris' paintings I've had my eye on for awhile. If they haven't been sold, I'll probably ask for one of those. Or, a more modest request would be a new Holly Aiken bag - one with the birds. I love those.

6. What color is your toothbrush?
White.

7. Name something you collect and tell us about it.
Local artists. I love to have original artwork in our home - especially that is created by North Carolina artists.

8. Last restaurant you ate at. Who were you with? How was it?
Torrero's with Kevin and the boys. It was fabulous. We hadn't eaten there in several months because of the whole no-dairy diet I've been on.

9. Who was the last person you bought a birthday card for?
My oldest nephew, Jacob. Unfortunately, it is still on my kitchen counter and his birthday was this past Monday. Even worse, my oldest niece's was in May, and I haven't sent hers either. I suck.

10. What is your worst bad habit?
Drinking waaaay too much diet coke. (Also Zoot's answer)

11. Name a magazine to which you subscribe?
Everyday Food

12. Your favorite pizza toppings?
Fake pepperoni, black olives, and mushrooms.

13. Whose number were you looking up the last time you used a phone book?
I think I was looking for a doctor in the Yellow Pages.

14. Other than family, who is the person that you love most?
That's a hard one, and kinda silly one. But I guess I could narrow it down to Susan.

15. What is the last thing you cooked?
Last night I made beer braised sausages and warm potato salad (from Everyday Food).

16. Name something you wouldn’t want to buy used?
Training potty

17. Which shoe do you put on first?
Maybe the left? That's the contact I put in first.

18. What is the last thing you remember losing?
Some LLL papers. But I found them this morning.

19. What is the ugliest piece of furniture in your house?
The cheap Target dresser in our room that I'm stuffing Colin's clothes in for now.

20. Last thing you bought and ended up returning?
Some pants for Colin.

21. What perfume/cologne do you wear? If none, why?
None right now because of the baby, but Kevin gave me some for Christmas a couple of years ago that I really like. I don't remember the name, but the bottle is plaid.

22. Your favorite board game?
I like Dominoes, but there's no board.

23. What was the last board game you played?
Card game, actually. BS with Mallory.

24. Where did your vehicle come from?
Smithfield. A Jeep dealer.

25. If a movie was made about your life what would the theme song be?
"Broken Things" by Julie Miller.

26. You’re sad, who can cheer you up easily?
It was always my granddaddy before he died. Now, it would be Kevin.

27. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to?
I have no idea. Black maybe?

28. What house cleaning chore do you hate to do the most?
Cleaning the blinds. So we didn't put them back up after the new windows went in. Ha.

29. What is your favorite way to eat chicken?
Fried, of course. With biscuits.

30. It is your birthday. You hope the cake is?
A mint chocolate chip log cake from Baskin Robbins. With lots of flowers and decorative icing. Yum.

Feel free to steal this too. Let me know if you do; I would love to read it.

Let's just move on to Thursday, shall we?

Don't ask me why I said it. I don't know. It's a dumb thing to say if you don't really want to leave somewhere.

"Christopher, if you don't start listening to me and calm down, we are going home."

Well, damn if we didn't leave five minutes after me saying that. And I didn't want to leave. Colin and I were enjoying music class - except for the part where Christopher was acting like a little hellion.

It's been that kind of day. Upon leaving music class, we didn't actually go home, we went to the grocery store where I proceeded to do all of my shopping and go to check out only to find that I had no wallet.

Great.

Meanwhile, I'm getting news that my momma has either had a heart attack or a stroke, and they aren't sure which one if either, but she's driven herself home from the store so she can go to the ER. I swear this woman is still alive not because of modern medicine, but because she is just too damn stubborn for cancer.

For crying out loud. I hate this day.

P.S. Momma just finished a hamburger and is enjoying a lovely blood thinner drip now. Doesn't that just somehow seem wrong? Just ribbing you, Momma.

Raoul

It's a good, good man who will don the plastic gloves, mix the noxious chemicals, and comb comb comb the dye through his wife's ridiculously thick hair.

It's an even better man who knows where the random chunk of thickness known to my hairdresser as the Bermuda Triangle of hair.

And it's the best man ever who lets me call him Raoul while he does all of this.

He's such a good sport.

Washed that gray right outta my hair.

Communing, not competing

That big pit of mommyblogging quicksand seems to have grabbed a hold of my ankles and doesn't want to let go. Competition. I've said so many times that I blog because I want to, not to make money, get free stuff, or to feel loved and important.

It's easy to say that. It's harder to keep it going.

My four year blogoversary came and went without me even batting an eye at it. My BlogHer Ads have been up for over three years. I've blogged for and left the SVMoms Group. Two BlogHer conferences under my belt and a ridiculous amount of swag later - I'm still just me.

I guess it's time for that personal pep talk again. The one where I remind myself that it's my choice to keep this a small time operation. It's my choice to not give my posts up for free to a group who made money off of them. It's my choice to keep my little BlogHer ads up just for the feeling of belonging to that community and not because I'm going to maximize my SEO anytime soon.

Still. I feel like maybe there should be yet another button. Yet another group of bloggers who band together and say, "This exists for my benefit. I choose to expand it or to not expand it. I work as hard as I want to on it, and my traffic and exposure reflect that work or lack thereof. I welcome the community, but I don't do it for the fame and fortune. I am not competing with you - I am communing with you."

As everyone gears up for BlogHer again this year, I get those twinges of longing. But what I'm really longing for is the desire to do more with my blogging. And it's just not there. I don't have the desire to use this space as anything other than what it is right now. I need to be alright with that. I am alright with that - I just need to keep reminding myself of that.

I am ready for a little change though. Some sprucing up. Maybe a new template. I would like to move off of Blogger and onto my own domain, which I have shamefully owned for over two years and done nothing with it. Again though, I just don't have the motivation to put the time into moving it. Plus, I know that I would likely lose most of the readers I have now if I broke this link. I don't know. It would be nice to have new digs.

So what about you? Are you happy with where your blogging life is? Do you wish you were doing more? Are you satisfied with the relationships it's brought you? Do you wish you could buy more than a latte a month with your ad revenue?

I'm curious.

Drano

I've lost it. I've lost my blogging mojo. There's too much Facebook. Too much just sitting and absorbing and not enough interacting. I'm thinking that regardless of the Zoloft, there is still an underlying problem. I'm thinking that the Zoloft helps me deal with day to day life and keep it together, but that there is still a sadness there that I'm not dealing with. And that it's drawing me inward.

Or, I'm just lazy and don't want to write lately.

Either way, I'm here now. And grumpy. Aren't you glad you stopped by? Seriously though. The construction on our house is still going on, and for whatever reason, people seem to suck.

If you underbid on a construction project, take four times longer than you quote, act like an asshole while I'm in LABOR, and then still don't finish the job? Most people won't pay you. Not my husband. He goes ahead and chalks it up as a loss and pays you what was promised because he feels sorry for you and also wants you gone. Then you bitch about how much time you spent on the job and how little money an hour that works out to, and you threaten to kill him and do some other ridiculously stupid things that we won't talk about here. Yet. Because we're not finished with them.

Seriously. The guy is four times slower and doesn't finish and we're supposed to pay him more? Right.

Then, today, D the drunken painter, who I have previously thought was awesome, proceeded to piss me off beyond belief. He asks for a third of his pay, which I happily provide him in the form of a check. Mind you, I had asked him yesterday if a check was still alright with him. He's worked for us twice before, and I've always written checks. So I give him a check and the bitching begins.

Our USAA account apparently is a problem for him. Translation, he doesn't have a bank account and needed to go to our bank (which doesn't have physical branch) in order to cash the check. I cannot tell you how much of my problem this is NOT.

Without the gory details, he was not pleased with the mere $300 the ATM would give me at one time and proceeded to bitch to me about us not having a local bank account. So I pointed out that he must not even have ANY bank account, and that pissed him off.

Seriously. I'm supposed to drive around town going to ATM's, collecting cash for Mr. Pisspants the drunken painter because he's not responsible enough to keep a checking account of his own?

What the hell is wrong with people? Are we not in a recession? Why is it we can't find decent, honest, sane, and hard working people to work for us when so many people are out of work?

Yeah. Maybe this is why my mojo seems to be gone. The whole house thing is not going well, and I haven't wanted to write about it in a public way. Because there is some seriously bad stuff that's gone down. Like changing locks and watching my rearview mirror bad. But you know what? I'm tired of hiding out and not talking. I'm tired of being scared. I'm sick of it all. I want my house done. I want my life back. I want my husband to quit having all of this work hanging over his head.

I'M SO DONE.

One thing I've learned from experience in blogging and having crazy people read it. How to get a restraining order. Kidding. No, actually, I'm not.

So I'll be back to talking about whatever the hell I want to talk about and fuck the crazies. They will do whatever they want to anyway, so I'm done tiptoeing around them.

And yes, I'm aware that not much of this made any sense, but it felt good, and I'm hoping that it's going to unclog whatever has been keeping me from writing.

How it is

I opened a post. And Squeak cries. It never fails.

Kipper the comedian

This. This is what makes Bird laugh out loud. Of course, his daddy also gets him laughing, but this is the first and only media that gets him laughing out loud. And he does. Belly laugh. Kipper drops his hippo down the stairs, and Bird hoots in between calling out, "See that, Mama? See that?" Today, he even fell on the floor laughing so hard while Kipper and Tiger tried to do laundry.

Me? I'm not so funny when I'm doing laundry. In fact, I'm not ever as funny as Kipper. I'm apparently the comfort and care part of this equation and am leaving the belly laughs to an admittedly, adorable British dog.

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Granola Bars

I'm posting this in between licking my fingers clean of the yummy goodness. My friend Kara brought a batch of these after Squeak was born and gave me the recipe as well.

You will want to make them right away and often after that. They are so incredibly good.

1 cup brown sugar

2/3 cup peanut butter (I have used creamy and chunky-both work well.)

1 stick butter, softened

1/4 cup molasses

1/4 cup honey

2 teaspoons vanilla

3 cups uncooked oats

3/4 cup of chips (chocolate or butterscotch or you could use raisins)

3/4 cup shredded coconut

1/3 cup wheat germ

1/4 cup ground flax seed

Heat oven to 350. Beat brown sugar, butter, and peanut butter till fluffy. Add honey, molasses, and vanilla- stir well. Stir in oats, chips, coconut, raisins, and wheat germ. Press into bottom of a 9x13 baking pan. Bake fifteen minutes. Put in the freezer to chill for 45 minutes or until firm. I then cut them into bars and store them in large Ziploc in the freezer.

Nothing to it, but oh so amazingly good. And from stuff I mostly have in my kitchen already.

You're welcome.

In which I bare my penchant for long analogies

I think about birth daily. Even though I am personally done giving birth, I can't put it out of my mind.

I want to tell Squeak's birth story over and over again. He was born in the water. I find myself grinning as I almost whisper this to people. I can't help myself. It was truly the most amazing experience in my life, and I want to share it.

I want to share it without guilt. I don't want to feel guilty for being so thrilled with it, and I don't want other mamas to feel guilty if they didn't have the same experience. Guilt is based in shame and judgment, and is no way for mamas to better themselves and support each other.

Here's what I think.

From my house to my momma's house, the best and most direct route is I-40. Plain and simple. Get on I-40, drive for an eternity, and end up at Momma's house. It's the best way to get there, but the last time we went, there was a rock slide on the NC/TN state line on I-40.

We had to go around. We had to divert from the best route in order to get where we were going.

We still got to Momma's house. We were more tired, used more gas, and it took more time, but we got there. We were grateful that there were other routes to Momma's house so that we could still get there safely even though there was a rock slide.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

What if someone had just given us wrong directions? What if there was a gas station or a restaurant on the route around I-40 that printed maps without I-40 on it? Just to get us to drive by their business and become customers? What if the only directions we were given never even mentioned that we could just stay on I-40 unless there was a rock slide?

Isn't that entirely different?

If you don't need to go around the rock slide, then someone should be giving you directions that go from point A to point B without all the side roads. And by side roads, I mean interventions, in case you haven't jumped on board my analogy yet.

All of us mamas are just following our maps. We are doing the best we can for ourselves and our children with the information we are given.

The more we share our birth stories, and share them proudly - ALL of them, not just the ones who stayed on I-40 - the more we empower the mamas-to-be.

I am proud of all the mamas I know, and I want to hear every one of their stories. The ones who gave birth via c-section. The ones who gave birth via induction. The ones who gave birth at home. The ones who became mamas via adoption.

It's about becoming a mama. That's all. Yes, I do believe that the more we can help mamas-to-be stay on the interstate regardless of what their maps say, the better. But I absolutely do not believe that we should judge each other for the different paths we all took in getting to be a mama.

Let's let go of the guilt and start sharing our stories. Let's let each other feel proud of bringing our children into the world, and at the same time, let's help all the mamas-to-be find the best route for birth.

/soapbox (for today)

Happy Mother's Day, Kevin

I didn't think I would get to be a mother.

In my first marriage there were plans of adoption, disappointment, plans of insemination, and more disappointment. Then, there was an end to that marriage. That's the extremely short and shallow version.

Kevin is my proof of grace in this life. The reason that anyone gets to wish me, "Happy Mother's Day."

On a day where we honor our moms, I find myself wanting to shower my husband with adoration. He saw me for who I am, where I was, and loves me still even with all of my flaws. He trusted me to have his sons and provides for us so that I can stay home with them. He sees us as partners in parenting, making it only my "job" for the time that he is at his "job."

So thanks, Kevin. Thanks for knocking me up a few times. Thanks for being my support in pregnancy, birth, labor, and postpartum. Thanks for being the daddy-half. Thanks for loving me and loving your children like you do.

Happy Mother's Day to us.

Mama is pretty

Bird's vocabulary has really taken off this spring. I think that his friend Carter inspired him when he visited. The things Bird comes up with now are great. He keeps me laughing most of the day - except when he's telling me to "go away." Or "sit down." That part isn't so cute.

Tonight, he was sitting on his sister's lap while she did her Algebra homework. Squeak was sitting in the Bumbo (on the table - OH MY!) and I was sitting next to him making silly faces. Bird smiled sweetly and said, "Awww, baby. SO cute." He often announces that Squeak is "SO cute." It melts my heart.

Mal asked him if he was cute too. He said no. She asked him if Daddy was cute. No. She asked him if Mama was cute. No.

But wait -

He said, "No. Mama's pretty."

Oh, help. My heart. My poor heart. It is no longer mine in any way shape or form.

Now, if I can just get him to stop saying "shit" whenever he drops something.

Pampers Dry Max and other evils on the shelf

Bird is at school and Squeak is sleeping in his bouncy seat. He slept on my chest for 90 minutes, but then want to move, so he's vibrating and snoozing, and I have two free hands. Two free hands which should be cleaning something, writing thank you notes, doing laundry, or organizing the boys' clothes for storage - but I'm actually trying to put writing back into my list of priorities, so here I sit.

I have a copy of Healthy Child, Healthy World that I have been putting off reading because I'm scared of all the things I could be doing better for my children. That's so lame. After this week of recalls and dangerous products, I'm thinking it's time to dive into it.

Squeak had almost finished his trial size bottle of Infant's Tylenol that has been recalled. It could have tiny particles - of what, they didn't say - in it or it could contain too much of the active ingredient. Either way, it's not good for him.

Bird had on a Pamper with their new "Dry Max technology" the other day. When I went to change it, he started grabbing the inside of his thigh and telling me that it hurt. I lay him on the changing table, and he began to scream before I could even get his shorts off of him. The blisters on his legs and bottom were unbelievable. I immediately began trying to calculate when the last time I changed him was and starting cursing myself for letting him have a wet and dirty diaper - even though I hadn't done anything different that day than from any other day. I changed him right when I noticed, and it wasn't that long from the last change.

I was mortified and cried right along with him. I stopped trying to clean him up at the changing table and put him straight into the tub. I wanted to make sure he was 100% clean, and rubbing the blisters wasn't an option.

After I put him to bed that night, I noticed a buzz online about Pampers and their new Dry Max diapers. A friend from my LLL group had posted a news story, and after watching it, I started searching for more information. What I found was unbelievable.

Thousands of reports of chemical burns and unusually bad blistering and rashes have been reported with these diapers. I couldn't believe it. The pictures I saw of those poor babies look just like Bird. The bigger than a quarter raised blisters - they were on all of these babies.

No more Pampers for us. I don't care how much that box cost me. I'm not using another Pamper ever again.

So begins my foray into cloth diapering. I tried it with the gCloth inserts for our gDiapers and hated them. They were terrible. But I've got some friends who are willing to give me lessons in all of the other ways to cloth diaper, so we are getting ready to make the switch. And for the times we need a disposable one, I'll be using a Huggies natural or a Seventh Generation diaper.

I feel so strongly right now, that as a mama and a consumer, I have got to start making better choices for my family. Choices based on their well being instead of cost and convenience. I did that for Squeak's birth, and now I need to continue that throughout their lives. I owe it to them to keep them safe and healthy.

It's frustrating to not be able to trust as a consumer.

Lonely doesn't mean alone

I forget that I should never whine about loneliness or a lack of friends. Even though I might feel that weight bearing down on me from time to time, to voice those feelings (and indeed, they are just feelings and not necessarily reality) only plays injustice to those who are here for me.

In whining about how much I miss my friends who live here in this box with me, I also ignore the fact that this box keeps me in closer contact with people who have been in my life practically forever. Including, but not limited to Susan and even my momma. Sure, I give my momma a hard time when I find out life changing information on her Facebook page, but really, I'm quite glad that she has a presence on the internet. It gives us a chance to be in each other's daily lives.

There are new friends for new developments in life. That happened after my divorce, after I remarried, and certainly after I became a mama. I have friends here in town from my La Leche League group who I would shave my eyebrows for or even consider giving up Diet Coke for. Well, at least the eyebrows part.

I guess I just have a hard time with the change in climate of friendships. It's not surprising. I have a hard time with change in general. Especially change that is incremental. Rather than riding out whatever storm or hard times there are with people, I tend to just detonate the relationship and walk away from the wreckage.

Now. Aren't you glad you're getting to know me? Doesn't that sound lovely?

All this to say - lonely doesn't mean alone. There are some wonderful people in my life. Lonely means that I isolated myself for a time and needed a kick in the pants to get back up again. I'm getting back up again. Next week.

So expect a phone call or a text or Facebook message. There are too many people who are here in the flesh or wherever they are in the flesh for me to sit around being lonely.

I know these things. Sometimes I just need a good whine.

Lonely real life

I didn't expect to make friends on the internet. Certainly not ones that I would travel to visit or that would take a weekend to come see me. I didn't expect to make friends that I would miss or that I would long to live closer to so that we could hang together in the flesh.

But I have.

Lately, and maybe it's the hormones to some extent, a lot of my in the flesh people have been letting me down. Granted, I've been told I hold people to unfair high expectations, but I can honestly say that the Zoloft has been helping that. Still, I just can't count on some of the friends I once could count on and that hurts.

But, in my new found quest not to be crazy these past months, I've found a way to still love my friends for who they are and not necessarily what they are to me at the current moment. It's hard, but I think it will be good in the long run.

Today though, I'm missing people that I only get to interact with online. All my mamas on the board especially - I wish that we could have a playdate, get some coffee, go shopping, or just take a walk. Liz L., who I wish I could learn to be a doula with - I think we would make a great team. Patricia, who I recently reconnected with on Facebook and just got to see for a moment in April. All these people make my life richer, and a little lonely at times too, because they are far away.

It's just one of those lonely days. Especially when compared with Monday. Pardon my pity party. It will be over soon, I promise. How can it not be when this is what I get to see everyday:















Happy babies make great SSRI's.

Today

I've been on maternity leave. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

It's hard to get back in the habit of writing when you slump off like I have. I still have blog brain. You know, when you walk through the grocery store checking items off your list while simultaneously thinking about which of the carts you are passing would make for good blog fodder. I still have blog brain.

There are too many things going on right now that I just can't blog about yet. When something is holding me back a little, I have a hard time saying anything at all. But I'm going to try. I'm missing out on chronicling some of the best times of my life - watching my boys grow up.

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Today, I had changed both of the boys' diapers. I had stepped out of the room to wash my hands when Bird tripped over a bag of dry cleaning. He wasn't hurt, but he was whining for me to come help him. He was still whining when one of Squeak's shoes came off.

Bird got up by himself, picked up the shoe, and declared, "Oh no! Colin's shoe!" He brought me the shoe, insured that I put it back on his little brother properly, and then he went back to the bag of dry cleaning. He repositioned himself over it, as if he had fallen again, and started back in with, "Mama, help! Help, Mama!"

Snort.

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Today, I took the boys to a Durham Bulls game with Abby and Linus. We had great seats (once Abby convinced me to move into the shade), and Linus was kind enough to share his Matchbox cars.

There was arguments over Wool E. Bull being a cow. There was popcorn. There was hand holding and running through the grass. Squeak fell asleep by the fifth inning. The Bulls lost, and I think they need some new pitching, but we still had a great time.

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Today, I took the boys on a walk with my friend and doula, Julie. Her boys, my boys, a couple of strollers, and a bicycle defied the rain back into the sky and took our walk with just a few sprinkles. The Greenway in Raleigh is one of my favorite places to be, and walking it with a friend is the best way to be there.

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So you see, we are busy. There are stories to tell. I want to get back here telling them. Maternity leave is officially over.

My love

Your eyes are navy blue. They captivate me.

Your ears poke out like my father's. Currently, you also share a hairstyle with him. I think you will grow out of that.

Your mouth has learned to smile and laugh naturally. You started laughing at your daddy yesterday and couldn't stop. You laughed until you gave yourself the hiccups.

That is one thing that I love about this house. More often than not, it is full of laughter. Granted, that means that your daddy and I are terribly silly people, but I think it might be a fun way to grow up.

Tonight, you took a bath with your brother. At first he was scolding you for kicking and splashing, but when you just smiled at his reprimand, he gave up and started washing your feet. He can be surprisingly sweet to you. Whenever someone asks him about his little brother, his standard reply is, "Colin. So cute."

You still sleep with us. Partly because there isn't anywhere else for you to sleep yet, and partly because you are so snuggly. You spoon perfectly, wake up to nurse a couple of times, and go right back to sleep. Usually. Occasionally, you want to stay awake and smile at me. If I have to stay awake in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning, I have to say, I don't mind staring at your beautiful smile.

There is only one small complaint I have, and that is your hatred of the stroller. I love your stroller. You have a little hide-away compartment, and your brother sits in the jump seat above you. And. You. Hate. It. Unless you are asleep, you scream. Even when you are asleep, you usually wake up and then scream. Our long walks designed to help me burn this baby fat before you enter the first grade? Are torture for both of us. I would wear you, but you seem to hate that too. You just want to ride up on my shoulder and be able to look around at the world, cheek to cheek with me. It's a lovely feeling, cheek to cheek, but dang. You are heavy. I tell myself that I'm just working my arm muscles. Walking, pushing the stroller, and carrying you. Ridiculous.

You have such a sweet nature. Easy going. You like to be at home and nurse on your Boppy. As much as I don't mind nursing you anywhere, anytime, and here you are, just wanting your comfortable football hold where you and I can just gaze at each other. I have to admit, I like it too.

Today, you and your brother nursed together. We don't do that often, but today, you each latched on, and you stared at him. You hadn't ever noticed him before - even when he would stroke your head while you nursed together. But today, you and he locked eyes and I felt the urge to stop tandem nursing fall away again.

You are a big boy, you know. Not even three months old and you are already wearing 6 month and up clothes. I spent yesterday packing away two full boxes of clothes that you have already outgrown. I'm not sure what I will do with them yet.

I know that I will miss these tiny baby days. I feel them slipping away. But I have to say, I'm really looking forward to the things we will get to do when you can crawl and walk and run and talk and play and all of the amazing learning you have already started to do.

I'm going to try and write more. There is so much to say about you and your brother. I'm just not willing to do it at the expense of staring into those captivating navy blue eyes. You are my love.