Day 10 - Someone you need to let go or wish you didn't know - 30 days of truth

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times on this blog.

I'm an excellent bridge burner. I tend to cut and run.

What I do though, is dwell. I sometimes wonder what the person on the other side of the cliffs is up to - where their life has gone since we parted ways.

With the internet, it can be easy to search for them. Recently I wrote about blocking a list of people on Facebook. That was my way of letting go. Blocking those people was my way of letting them go.

I have a few more to block.

A former work colleague with whom I share mutual friends. She isn't an honest person, and I find myself getting worked up when I come across more of her nonsense online.

That high school teacher.

The boyfriend who dumped me via my brother.

You get the point.

I think a lot of these posts are going to intersect. Because the person I should let go of the most is the one I'm not ready to forgive. And until I can forgive her, I won't be able to let her go.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 9 - Someone you didn't want to let go but just drifted - 30 days of truth

My momma is a wise woman. She taught me that sometime friendships are just for a season. They come and then they go, and that's alright. I've seen that happen, and I've been learning how to let it happen gracefully if I need to.

I miss an old friend. She doesn't live far from me. We've been bridesmaids for each other. I've been with her while she was in labor. We've been through a lot together. I'm not sure where life is taking us, but I don't hear from her anymore. It makes me sad.

Other old friends who drifted have come back into my life through Facebook. It's cool really. I've found my best college roommates, one of my few junior high friends, and even a friend from elementary school who lives in Chapel Hill now.

Relationships are hard work. Duh, right? As I get older, I feel like I'm less willing to put in all of that work if it's going to be one sided. The more I adopt Kevin's philosophy of fewer, better friends, the more fulfilling the work put into the relationship is.

I have a feeling there will be more drifting to come. I hope I'm ready for it.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 8 - Someone who has made your life hell, or treated you like shit - 30 days of truth

Oh boy. I could open up a can of worms here if I wanted to, but that's probably not for the best. Besides, even if I were to talk about the stalking, name calling, and eventual restraining order, in the end, I can't claim that she's made my life hell, because in order for that to be true, she has to matter to me, and that just isn't true.

I could also talk about Day 4 again, but I think I made my point then.

It's sad when you have so many options to choose from here.

Really though, I'm having a hard time choosing because I'm at a point in my life that when I think about these people, I'm just sort of, well, meh. It doesn't matter anymore.

However, I'll tell some just for the sake of telling.

There was a woman on a mom's board who liked to play the "I've had more miscarriages than you" game. She was looney and inconsequential, but when you're bleeding out what you hoped was going to be your second child, it sucks to be treated like that.

There were a couple of girls in my seventh grade carpool who were so mean to me that they shaped the rest of my junior high career. They helped me develop my caustic wit and thick armor, keeping out any prospects of friends, save a few brave souls.

There was the boyfriend who went off to college and told my brother to let me know he was breaking up with me. Harsh.

There was the boss who fired me 30 minutes before I had to go to the funeral of one of my students.

There was the high school teacher who - well, let's just not go into that one. It's just yuck.

The bottom line I guess, is that I finally have a strong partner and a circle of friends who support me and help me feel safe. I have friends who take me to dinner when I need to talk. I have friends who bring their families to celebrate a baptism with me. I have friends who I trust to take care of my children.

I have a partner who will back me up, defend me, and love me.

Once, a former bandmate wrote my ex-husband a letter. We had been in North Carolina a few months, and this douche wrote a letter to my husband telling him that he was sorry they couldn't be friends anymore since he had married me, and went on to pontificate about what a horrible person I was. Or something like that. It doesn't matter what he said. What matters is that I felt like my ex should have stood up for me. I felt like he should have defended me, and he didn't.

I had never felt more alone than I did that day. Less because of the letter and more because I wasn't worth defending.

Things have changed. So go ahead, treat me like shit. I've got people now. People who have my back.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 7 - Someone who has made your life worth living - 30 days of truth

Easy.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 6 - Something you hope you never have to do - 30 days of truth

I spent a great deal of time trying to think of something else to write about for this one. Something that doesn't send me into a panic attack just thinking about it, but I can't.

The single thing I hope I never have to do is bury one of my children. Just typing those words makes my heart race.

There are mamas whose blogs I read who have lost their babies, and I can't fathom the depth of their pain or the strength that they must have to put one foot in front of the other daily. They amaze me and terrify me all at the same time - because it could happen to any of us.

Several years ago, my youngest piano student at the time was killed in a car accident. Her father was driving. He didn't see a stop sign, ran it, and a pick up truck hit them. The little girl died at the scene.

She was six.

At the visitation, I was close to the end of the line to speak to the parents. It took about three hours to make it to them. I watched and studied how people addressed them, how the parents reacted. Could I cry with them? Should I be strong and not cry? Do I hug them? Do I say that I'm sorry?

I was terrified.

The week before, this little girl had played in her very first piano recital. She was so excited and so proud of herself. Her father plays, and both of her older sisters had played, but this was her turn. It was finally her turn to be up there and perform. She wore a navy blue dress and ankle socks. Her hair was pulled back in a headband.

She performed perfectly.

The next week she was gone.

When I approached her parents, her father collapsed onto me. I held him up while he sobbed for what seemed like hours. I didn't know them especially well, but I think that the importance of music in their family coupled with the recent recital made my presence rip the very tentative bandage off of the wound.

I just stood there and held him. I thanked them both for letting me have the chance to teach their daughter and told them that I would miss her very much. I told them about how she told me she was named for a pop singer (she was not, but they shared the name). I told them that getting to spend just 45 minutes a week with her had been a blessing, and that I was so sorry for their loss.

This was years before I had children. I didn't have any reference point to the pain they felt.

Then, last week, Christopher ran across the street without me. He didn't look; he didn't pause. He was fine. But the thought of losing him in an accident - so violent and sudden - so physically painful - I couldn't stomach it. I cried when I caught up to him. I grabbed his arms a little too hard when I pulled him to me. I held him longer than usual when we hugged our "I'm sorry's".

So that is it. I hope I never have to live a day without my children in my world. I don't know how I would cope.

Do you Tumblr?

While the ole blog has the 30 Days of Truth going on for the month of November, I've been enjoying using my Tumblr page more.

There are pictures of the kids, my favorite Etsy finds, conversations, and short thoughts that I might normally blog over here. Feel free to join me there for less than blogging, more than Twitter.

Because you NEED another social media site to worry about.

What about you? Do you Tumblr? Can you leave me a link so I can follow you?

Have a great weekend. Smooches.

Day 5 - Something you hope to do in your life - 30 days of truth

There are two little boys sitting with me right now, enjoying Jack's Big Music Show. They are what I hoped most to do in my life.

Short of that, I would like to find my place in the world as a mama.

When they go to school, what will I do with my days? Will I be able to re-enter the work force? Will I want to? Will I be able to find a job that I enjoy?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must got do the cookoo dance with Jack and my oldest son. It is definitely something I've always wanted to do in my life.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here. Also, you can check out my Life List for more things I hope to do in my life. If you're bored and all.

Day 4 - Something you have to forgive someone for - 30 days of truth

I was a departure from your lifestyle.

A friend who didn't look like your other friends

Who didn't act like your other friends

Who didn't worship like your other friends

Who didn't judge like your other friends

Who didn't expect perfection of you like your other friends

Our parents lived around the corner from each other, yet we had to travel to London to get to know each other.

Maybe if we had stayed across the ocean, we would have stayed friends.

You got married.

I got married.

You got divorced.

You got remarried.

I got divorced.

I got remarried.

See? We are the same I might think, but we are totally not.

I stood fiercely by you during your divorce

Standing up for you in grocery stores

Standing up for you at church

Standing up for you to newspaper reporters

Standing up for you to anyone who would listen

You were so blatantly wronged

Hurt and humiliated

The pity people felt for you was more judgment for your lack thereof.

But me? The wrong against me was more subtle.

I was married to such a nice guy.

I was married to the guy who helped everyone out.

Everyone but me.

He didn't leave me for a priest

He didn't leave me for someone twice his age

He didn't emotionally abuse me

But he didn't love me

He didn't support me

He didn't listen to me

He didn't respect me

He didn't honor or protect me

Like my momma said, he left our marriage way before I kicked him out.

You couldn't see any of that though

You didn't want to see any of that

You refused to listen openly to my heart and my hurt.

I had disrupted your life

I had made it uncomfortable for you

I had created a division in your circle of friends

I had neglected to think about how my divorce would affect you.

Silly me.

What really got me though was when I moved on too quickly for your liking

You judged me

You condemned me

A year later, you dismissed me, telling me,

           "You aren't sad enough."

Then I knew. I knew why we had been friends in the first place.

One of my gifts is the ability to make others feel good about themselves. 

It fits into the peace-keeping, people-pleasing side of me.

I had always made you feel better about yourself,

but not for the reasons I thought.

I made you feel better because you thought you were better.

You were thinner.

You made more money.

You read more.

You knitted.

You painted.

You were better than me 

and worse than me at the same time.

You were miserable, but I was always worse off

Your life was hard, but I was always in more debt

You deserved pity, but I was always there to be in a hole a little bit deeper than yours.

Next to me, you felt like a raging success

And then I had to go and get happy

Through a trial that would have broken most people

I come through it blissfully happy.

You were a terrible friend.

I hold you up as the standard now when I evaluate friendships.

I think about the time I spent with you and how I felt afterwards

In order to avoid those feelings

In order to avoid those people

In order to remain blissfully happy.

I should forgive you

I must forgive you

I will forgive you

Just not yet.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 3 - Something you have to forgive yourself for - 30 days of truth

In order to write about something I have to forgive myself for, I have to first admit what it was that I did wrong. That isn't easy for me, because I want you all to think that I'm perfect. Isn't that the goal? To have people think as highly of you as possible? 

I could cop out and say that I needed to forgive myself for forgetting to take a snack to share at the neighborhood Halloween parade yesterday. Oh the horrors! I forgot to take a snack! I am such a horrible mother and wife!

Let's get real though. There are skeletons. There are things that I have no need to unearth and share publicly. Things that I have already forgiven myself for, so I don't need to display them here. But there is something that I can begin to let go of right now. Something for the truth.

I need to forgive myself for my first marriage. I need to let go of that guilt. 

I never should have gotten married. It wasn't the right choice, and I knew it. At the time, I couldn't see far enough into the future to think there was another choice though. We had been dating for several years, and the night he said to me that he either wanted to get married or move on - I should have said, "Bye."

Divorce was never something I wanted in my history. I was ashamed to tell my parents. Waited three weeks after my ex had moved out before I even called them to tell them. 

More than that though, I cheated myself out of some very real dreams. I wanted to go to law school. More specifically, I wanted to go to UNC Chapel Hill for law school. That was never going to happen once I got married, and deep down, I knew that. I knew that I would be too busy trying to work and pay bills to go back to school.

I also need to forgive myself for hurting my ex. It wasn't his idea to get divorced, and I know it hurt him. If I dig down even further though, I need to forgive myself for ever marrying him in the first place. I wasted eight years of his life when he could have been chasing some dreams I know he had too. Because there was no way in hell I was ever going to move to California.

So that's it. I'm going to keep trying to let go of that huge mistake in my life. Try to forgive myself. Because one day, my boys are going to find those wedding pictures and start asking questions. And I want to be ready to answer them from a healthy and whole perspective.


This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 2 - Something I love about myself - 30 days of truth

My momma says that I'm "loyal to a fault." It's true.

If you are my friend, I've got your back. I will go to the mat for you. I will leave snarky comments on blogs or Facebook posts when you need them even though I would never do it for myself. I will bake, cook, sew, watch your children, or do your laundry. If someone wrongs you and you are deeply hurt by them, I will likely cut them out of my life too, just so you won't have to question where I stand.

Granted, I get the "to a fault" part. I know that I've burned some bridges that might not needed to have been burned. I've left some comments that were completely not nice. I've even called a newspaper reporter once and let them have it for doing a lifestyle piece on how fabulous someone was with no regard to some very public pain they had caused my friend.

Um, a little overboard, I know.

But it is something that I love about myself. I'm not wishy washy when it comes to my friends. If I love you, you know it. In fact, I've had to work really hard at just having acquaintances. It doesn't come easily for me, but it's a skill that I think is important in life. It certainly would have made high school easier for me.

Of course, loyalty is something I love most in a friend too - and with my ridiculously high standards for it, it's hard to find. Luckily, I have found it in more than a few people in my lifetime. For that, I'm extremely grateful. You know who you are.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 1 - Something I hate about myself - 30 Days of Truth

The challenge here is to keep "something" singular. I could go on a rampage with things I hate about myself lately. Some of the issues I would have chosen as top billing here are things that I have really been working on lately though, so I'm not going with them. As in, my ability to take EVERYTHING personally. Whoa. That's a great one to let go, let me tell you.

What I hate about myself right now, something that I can't seem to stop doing, is living in the worry of the future. I don't seem to know how to live in the now. Right now. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not next month. Not next year. Not when Christopher starts kindergarten. Not when the house will finally be finished. Not when the chemo stops working.

I hate that I waste so much of today by worrying about tomorrow.

I want to learn to live in the now.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Halloween costumes 2010

If you are so inclined, pop on over to my craft blog, Specraftular, and take a peek at the making of Super Why and Baby Caesar. Cuteness awaits you.

Super Moses

This is baby Moses. Christopher made him in Sunday School this past Sunday. He came home in a little basket made from a paper plate cut in half and sewn together with yarn.

It is very important to me that my boys be raised in the church. I want them to have that community and the foundation of faith that being an active member of a congregation affords. I haven't been great about getting there myself on a regular basis, but now that Christopher is old enough for Sunday School, I've been making a much stronger effort. Much to Colin's chagrin, as he detests the nursery - or any other separation from me. Ever.

When I picked up Christopher this past Sunday, he told me a little about the story of Moses. As in, Moses was a baby who they put in a basket. Even with the missing details, I was still a very proud Mama. My little boy is learning the stories in the Bible.

We got home and the first thing he did was flip up baby Moses' blanket so that it became a cape. Then he proceeded to run through the house with poor baby Moses flying high above his head while yelling, "It's Super Why to the rescue!!!"

Sigh.

30 days of truth

It's November - that month when bloggers take a solemn vow to post everyday thereby leaving no one to actually read posts so I'm thinking it's a great month to do a meme.

Janet, over at Izzymom, was one of the first ten bloggers I started reading. She designed this here blog template for me too. About a week or so ago, she posted a meme that she was going to do on her blog, and I loved it. It's the 30 Days of Truth, and I thought it would be perfect for the NaMoBloPo (did I finally get that right?).

Kim, affectionately known as Miss Zoot, is also in the first ten bloggers I started reading list. I used one of her free templates for my first blog, and I simply adore her. She's doing the meme too, and you should check out her series.

Here are the days, in case you are game to play along. If you are, please leave me a link so that I can follow you. Even though it's November, I'll still be reading blogs and would love to see your 30 days too.

I'll be starting on November 1, which is Monday. But I wanted to go ahead and post the list in case you were willing to come back and join me!

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Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.

Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11  Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12  Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13  A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17  A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21  (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Still here

I'm still here. I didn't go to Canada or any other vast wilderness. I did go to Chapel Hill and visit the Woman's Birth and Wellness Center. They are so wonderful.

We now know what is too big of a dose for me. Just a few days on the double dose had me - well, you saw where it had me. I didn't even know it was that bad until I started reading the comments on that last post. Then after a few days on the in between dose, I went back and read my own words again and saw where I was.

Scary.

However, I saw in those words that I knew then that I didn't want to stay where I was. I wanted help, and I had already asked for it. That makes me kinda proud of myself.

I have to admit, my instinct was to come right back and start telling everyone how alright I was. I was reading the comments and felt like I immediately wanted to start making everyone feel better. So I stayed away for a few days because it wasn't true yet, and I needed to just own where I was at the time.

Now I've decompressed. I've let the new dosage take effect.

I am getting better.

What I can't find the words for now is how to thank you for supporting me. I'll look for them, but for now, simplicity will have to suffice.

Thank you.

Broken

It's that feeling in my throat - around my throat, rather - that something is choking me. I open my mouth to speak and the words never make it to the surface. I sit and stare off into space waiting for the moment to come when I can utter a complete thought or sentence.

I am broken.

The drugs haven't been a secret. Anyone and everyone knows I started them. I never wanted there to be a stigma with it, and I wanted my family to be aware that I want to be better. I want to always be better for them.

Kevin asked me today where this was before he knew me. Where did I hide the crazy? Not in those words, mind you.

The answer was easy. I burned a lot of bridges. I snapped to a lot of judgments. I stayed out too late. I made bad decisions. I smoked too much, any is that, and I drank too much. Self deprecation and self medication. Survival.

I don't want to be broken.

I sang a song at the Type A Mom Conference. A Julie Miller song called "Broken Things". I always think of it as a song I've come through, but lately, I'm realizing that it's a song I'll always just be.

So beyond repair
Nothing I could do
Tried to fix it myself
But it was only worse when I got through


It's a God song, but a life song as well. I do try to fix everything myself. I'm not unlike my two year old in the number of times I say, "I do it myself," a day.

Monday, I determined that my boys would be better off without me. While they napped, I mapped out a plan for my departure. I would disappear into thin air. I would stop by and see a best friend and then vanish into Canada or some other vast wilderness.

It was absurd.

Instead of booking my flight, I called my midwife group. Asked for help. Made an appointment. Then I got up and took my boys for a walk. Scooter and wagon up the street in my pajamas. Because I was still wearing them at 4:45 in the afternoon. I'm not proud of that; I just own it. I felt better.

Then Tuesday, I got a haircut. I don't know what possessed me, but I decided I needed bangs and layers. I could tell my hairdresser was hesitant, and she was right. It's awful. My hair is the worst it's been in years. I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror.

Something that was supposed to pick me up just kicked me to the ground. Simple things that will grow back and be alright seem to be the end of the world.

It's all just so damn heavy.

I don't know where up is anymore. It's somewhere, and I'll find it. But I'm not sure how. Not by myself, that's for sure.

Goals for 2010

It's October. Mid-October at that. 2010 is just about over and there are so many things I didn't finish this year. For my own sake, here are my goals by the end of the year:

• Blog redesign. 
• Move Triangle Mamas and Specraftular from Typepad to Wordpress. 
• Possibly move this blog to Wordpress too, definitely redesign (same header, different layout/colors).
• Sewing
• Halloween costumes
• Blanket for Project Linus
• Christmas stocking for Colin
• Puppy pants for Colin
• Pillow shams for Mallory and Christopher
• Christmas pajama pants for the family
• Home
• Set up office
• Finish decorating boys' room
• Reorganize kitchen
• Start back meal planning
• Personal
• Get out of my fat jeans
• Finish reading Nurture Shock and Healthy Child, Healthy World
• Clean out closet for real. Get rid of clothes. For real.
• Get back to yoga
• Couple
• Get a couple's massage
• Spend at least one evening a week in studio
• Find a babysitter

I'm quite sure there's more, there's just this little problem of only having tiny chunks of time to complete things. So when you see this post keep coming back in your reader, please feel free to ignore it. I'm just updating the list.

And because this is possibly the most boring post I've ever written, here is a gratuitous picture of my boys.

What a little boy needs

Today, while Colin napped, Christopher and I got out a roll of paper and some crayons. He lay down on his back and let me trace him. I used to love to do this - I remember it as a popular Sunday School activity for some reason. Trace the child and then let the child draw on features and clothes.

He was so excited when he stood up and saw his outline on the paper. 

"Look, Mama! See that? That's His-Pher!"

I drew a big smile on his face, and he added two eyes. We talked about what color he would use for his hair (yellow) and what color he might want to make his shoes (blue). Of course, he didn't do either of those, he just went to town with his red crayon.

He colored his way down his torso, stopping when he got right below his waistline.

"Where's my penis, Mama?"

"Um. I didn't draw your penis, Sweetie."

"But, Mama, I need a penis."

"Okay then." I take my blue crayon and add this:

A penis. Because he wanted one. His daddy is going to be so proud.

Dear cancer

I'm not going to get into the #pinkwashing of October or the ineffectiveness of silly games for social activism. Instead, I'm putting my money where my mouth is and went to the Varian website to write a letter to cancer. I guess I'm finally getting paid to write, only the $50 is going to the American Cancer Society.

Want to really be an advocate for cancer awareness and prevention? Go write your own letter. Varian will donate another $50, and you will have made an actual difference.

Here's my letter. Apologies in advance for my potty mouth. In my experience, cancer deserves some serious cursing.

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Dear Cancer,

I hate you.

The two women in my life who mean the most to me are both fighting you with everything they've got.

You tried to take my momma when I was only seven years old. That was beyond cruel. But she fought you. And she won that round. Thirty years later though, she is fighting you again. You have attacked everything that physically makes her a woman, stripping her of breast, ovaries, uterus. Yet, she is still the most beautiful woman I know.

Now, I wait. Weekly updates come. I wait for her to be able to travel baptize her youngest grandson. Just one more trip, cancer. Can't she have this?

The drugs she takes to fight you off, hold you at bay, make her so tired that she lives her life from her chair. She loses her breath when she crosses the room. You have taken her energy, but you will never take her spirit.

If it wasn't enough to try and defeat my momma, you had to go and attack my best friend. For fuck's sake, she was nursing her child. Her five month old was still getting his nourishment exclusively from her when you decided to attack her breasts. His source of life. Her main source of mothering. She didn't even get to have closure in their nursing relationship because of the toxins required for her initial scans.

But she fought you back. A cancer that takes more women than it leaves, she fought you back and we all cheered for her. Her children are weaned. They are starting school. They are growing up, and she is still here to see it.

Of course, you can't stand that. You can't stand that she won what very well could have been your battle. So you strike her again, taking lymph nodes that she very much needs. Requiring her to go back on chemo, cancel trips and playdates, make room for afternoon naps, and wear slippers to school pick up. What you don't know is that she rocks those slippers. Take that, stupid cancer.

I don't have my head in the sand. I know that you will take people that I love sooner than they should go. But I want for you to remember that they aren't going quietly. They are warriors. They are the strongest women I know or will ever know. They are powerful and brave.

You will not win. Even when they are gone, you will not have won.

I hate you, cancer.

Don't eat the baby chickens

I don't write about Mallory much anymore because she's 14 and her own person. However, she has granted me permission to tell this one on her.

In the four years I've been cooking for Mallory, she has refused nothing. There are things she loves (chicken enchiladas) and things she would rather not have again (butter beans), but she has eaten everything. Even when I'm not cooking, she is game to trying anything. We took her out for sushi one night, not telling her what it was, and her only response?

"It's a little fishy."

She kills me.

On nights that Papa brings Mallory home, we have family dinner. Since the baby came (see how I say that like it was yesterday, not EIGHT months ago), I've been a little slack. So when I fond some organic cornish hens on sale, I thought they would be a nice change from the all pasta all the time. You know, fancy little tiny birds. Kinda creepy, kinda cute.

Everything was going swimmingly until somebody, I'm going to blame Papa because he doesn't do the internet, called it a "baby chicken."

And there it sat. The "baby chicken." Mallory wouldn't touch it.

To make it worse, Kevin made up songs about the baby chicken that included choreography from his baby chicken's carcass. She didn't eat a single bite.

It is, if you can believe it, the very first thing she has ever left on her plate untouched at my dinner table. And really, I can't say that I blame her.

They are a little creepy.