Please Pardon My Appearance ...

... while I work out the bugs of this new template. I'm pretty excited about it, so I didn't want to wait to go live. Julie of Sotto Sotto generously offered to help me set up this new template in Blogger. There are a few bugs to work out, but I think it's much better than my previous, standard Blogger template. Drop me a line, and let me know what you think!

Love, Sick

If you haven't passed out yet from all the eating, you can find my latest post - Love, Sick - over at DotMoms.

Here's an update: For a few reasons, I switched from my midwife to a doctor for this pregnancy. When I mentioned my nausea, the new nurse gave me samples of an anti-nausea medication. It worked miracles, allowing me to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, I couldn't pack it away quite as much as I wanted. But I did eat a full meal, including vegetables and chocolate cream pie. Thank God for pharmaceuticals.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

DotMoms on NBC News

Look, Mom, I'm on TV! Well, at one point my first name flashes across the screen. That counts, right?

Mike Wendland has done a story on blogging moms, featuring DotMoms. It ran on several NBC News affiliates today, but you can see it here. Congrats to Julie and all the DotMoms!

Flattery Can Flatter Me

Ben (carrying my hand mirror): Look Mom! You have to look at yourself!

Me (cranky, rolling eyes, afraid he'll break it): No, I don't want to. I want you to put it away.

Ben: You look beautiful. You look great in the mirror. Look!

Me (sighing, sitting): Thanks, hon. Oh, and you look good, too.

Who says flattery gets you nowhere? Maybe I shouldn't be raising boys.

Alphabet Meme

Hey, it's my first meme! I saw this over at Paper Napkin, and decided to give it a shot since I cannot string together two or more coherent thoughts. Just type in each letter of the alphabet in your address bar, then link the first blog that comes up with the corresponding letter.

A The World According to Me
B Bitchalicious
C coffeesoup
D Dooce
E Arwen/Elizabeth
F Go Fug Yourself
G Genuine
H Hula Doula
I The Pants in the Family
J Jeni's Journal
K Kristyk
L Can a Frog Save the World?
M Mom-Blog
N Nada
O One of Us
P Paper Napkin
Q Queen of Sky (just followed a link from The Zero Boss. Honest.)
R Rockstar Mommy
S Snarkywood
T The Zero Boss
U Nothin'
V Very Mom
W Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda
Y Nothin'
Z Zip

Sheryl says I should think of this as my duty done for my fellow bloggers, so there it is. Not that their stats will skyrocket or anything, but these are some of the blogs that brighten my day. If you do this meme, leave a comment so I can come take a look.

Things I’m Thinking About to Distract Myself From the Nausea

1. Fantasia will finally release her new album on November 23. Sure, maybe this doesn’t seem like big news to you. But to me, well. Fantasia turned me into a junior high schooler this spring. I sat in my bed voting for her by phone about 87 times in a row, until 1:30 a.m., on more than one occasion. Then she won! Because she had to win, because there was just no other acceptable outcome to that American Idol competition. But, then she disappeared! I Tivo’d her performances and replayed them until my husband left the family room in disgust as soon as he heard the opening to Summertime. And I wondered, where did she go? Finally, Fantasia’s back.

2. My first DotMoms post did not result in hate mail from moms who did not lose any brain cells during childbirth. Instead, everyone was kind and made me feel welcome — brain damage and all. The funniest comment was from Autumn Hour, who has heard that “when you have a baby, you push your brain out too.” So that’s what happened! Another Web site, Blogging Baby, picked up my post, and added a picture of a brain. How cool is that?

3. I won Blogging for Books #5! This is the first writing contest I've won, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Blogging Baby also posted about Jay's contest and my entry today, but with no graphics of human organs.

4. Sea-Bands. These conspicuous, grey, knitted, magnet-holding wristbands, which I keep hoping will fix my nausea, so far have done nothing whatsoever. Yet, I’m afraid to take them off lest this nausea get any worse. Just the thought of nausea getting worse makes the nausea worse. That and loud noise, chilly air, sitting, standing and breathing. If anyone can tell me how to quell this morning sickness (a magic elixir perhaps?), I’ll be your friend forever.

My Mom Brain

Click on over to DotMoms to read my first post!

After Ben was born, I met my neighbor, also a new mom. I told her I planned to stay at home, and she said she brought Isabel to work. "How do you get anything done?" I marveled.

"She naps or plays quietly," she answered, further baffling me. Then she made a comment that raised my hackles ...

What You Don’t Have You Don’t Need It Now

Before I had kids, I thought stay-at-home moms had the life. Laboring in my brown-carpeted cubicle, I dreamt of warm, sunny days spent pushing a stroller around town. I imagined spending cold, rainy days all snug in my house, sipping cocoa, roasting a chicken, perhaps sorting photos or sewing curtains. Except for diaper changes and feedings, my kids would play solo with their toys, nap or otherwise cooperate with my wishes.

Welcome to my fantasy.

Visits to friends with children fueled my naiveté. Carol, a former coworker turned stay-at-home mom, invited me over for lunch one Wednesday. She served a tasty pasta dish while her baby, Grace, slept in her upstairs crib. Throughout Carol’s home, glass vases and lamps sparkled, hardwood floors gleamed, counters sat organized and ready for action. A bread machine hummed and ticked, then sent warm, nutty aromas wafting through the air.

“Grace sleeps for three hours every day,” Carol beamed, her eyes serene with domestic bliss. Envy enveloped me as I trudged across the parking lot and back into my office building for another four-hour stint.

Three-year-old Olivia, my coworker’s daughter, played in her room during my visits, coming down once or twice to get a drink or charm me by demonstrating her favorite DK lift-the-flap book. My brother Mark got his four kids into bed by 7:30 without breaking a sweat, so we could enjoy fireside cocktails and adult conversation. My former boss Cynthia, calling to announce the birth of her daughter Sarah, gushed, “I’m just sitting here reading the Boston Globe and loving life!”

I began to resent my boss, who worked at home two days a week so she could care for her two kids. As I slaved in the overheated, windowless office, I imagined her in her airy family room, feet up, reading a novel and sipping tea.

Giving birth became my goal in life, the key to a cubicle-free world in which I had time to cook and clean, where the punch of time clock did not validate my existence. I envisioned productive weekdays that would let Brian and I relax at night and have fun on the weekend. “Home-cooked meals!” I promised him. “A clean house! Freedom from weekend chores and rushed takeout!”

Eight months later I became pregnant, and as my belly grew, coworkers began commenting on the “full-time job” of raising kids. “Yep, moms work morning and night, weekends and holidays,” Barry, one of the writers, chuckled. “No days off for moms.”

“Yeah, right, no days off. That’s a good one,” I said, with an insecure laugh. Raising kids can’t be that hard, I thought. What does he know?

Soon after Ben arrived, evidence of my baby ignorance mounted almost as fast as the laundry. Sure, Ben played on his own, so long as I sat within arm’s reach, staring at him. “The General” protested any attempt I made to look at a magazine, clear a dish or otherwise remove my loving gaze from him. He'd take quick, panicked breaths, causing him to honk, then hyperventilate. Then he'd start bawling, until I rescued him from his miserable minute of neglect.

Rather than napping for hours, Ben slept while nursing, then jolted awake on contact with his infant seat or crib mattress. Rather than playing with toys, he played “Pick me up and carry me around until your neck seizes and your arms fall off, or I’ll scream until you lose your mind.”

Rather than cleaning, laundering and cooking, I spent my weekdays trying to shower, brush my teeth and eat enough to prevent fainting. Rather than relaxing and having family fun, Brian spent his evenings and weekends caring for Ben while I washed dishes, vacuumed and scaled mountains of laundry. My visions of simmering pot roasts and home-baked breads crumbled into the reality of spaghetti three nights in a row, with Power Bars and canned soups rounding out the week.

That first year, I learned that one’s arm muscles do not become stronger as the baby grows. Instead, one’s joints dislocate. I learned that weekly workouts, daily showers and sitting down for a hot meal were now part of my past and my future, but not my present. I learned that I had “the grass is always greener” syndrome, and that the great vacation known as “staying home with my kids” was just a fairy-tale figment of my child-free imagination.

When Ben turned 10 months old, I got pregnant again. By accident. Ben had started napping two months earlier, so I did enjoy some quiet afternoons, complete with sitting while eating, reading and the occasional workout. But once I got pregnant, those afternoon breaks found me on the couch taking involuntary naps. Meal preparation and laundry again became insurmountable tasks. For the entire pregnancy, I wondered, “How will I ever handle two?”

One morning at about 8 o’clock, I sat at the kitchen table and watched Ben pull plastic bowls out of the cabinet, then set off after the cat. Five months pregnant, I held my head in my hands, wondering how to pass the next 10 hours with Ben.

Then I pictured myself in my past life, dressed and bathed, walking into work. I smiled as I remembered turning on my PC, heading to the kitchen for coffee and chit chatting with coworkers. I reminisced about the calm, ordered way my workdays progressed, the impromptu lunches with colleagues, my 2 o’clock dash to Starbucks for a fudge brownie pick-me-up.

It hit me how ignorant I’d been about life with kids. Here I was, 15 months later, already fantasizing about going back to work. I felt like I sucked as a full-time mom. Maybe I should send Ben and the baby to daycare, I thought, and head back to work.

I called my mom and cried. She listened to my back-to-work notion, then reminded me of what deep-down I knew: I had it pretty good. “I worked in the factory while raising my four kids. It’s a hard life,” she said. “Be careful what you wish for.”

We hung up, and I started the breakfast dishes. I thought again of my brown cubicle and my battles to stay awake while sitting inside of it for 40 hours a week. I thought, too, about the previous week, when I had turned my head just in time to see Ben walk across the family room floor and into my arms. He looked into my eyes the whole time, grinning with pride. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged him and said, “You did it! You walked!”

I finished the dishes and cranked open the kitchen window. The outside thermometer edged over the 70-degree mark. Ben toddled over and slid his hands up my legs, chanting “Uh! Uh!”

“O.K., come on up,” I said, lifting him to my hip. He pulled at my hair as I considered the way my get-out-of work-free card became the hardest job of my life. Maybe now that I understood the challenge, I could meet it. Maybe I could even be grateful for it.

“Let’s go to the park,” I said. After changing his diaper, wrestling his socks and shoes on, packing snacks and filling his sippy cup, I loaded Ben into his car seat. As I drove down my street, U2 played on the radio.

It’s a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away
It’s a beautiful day

I turned up the volume, and sang along.

I Am a Slimy Pyramid-Marketing Type

OK, just a little bit slimy. As of this morning, I'm on the free iPod bandwagon.

I signed up for a two-week free trial of Blockbuster online. Already, I have received two coupons for free movie or game rentals, and tomorrow, Blockbuster will mail Kill Bill 2, Big Fish and Mystic River to my house to watch and return to them within three weeks. In 10 days, I'll go online and cancel the Blockbuster membership and owe nothing.

Then (fingers crossed), five of my friends will also complete the offer, and I will receive a free 20mg Apple iPod, which retails now for $300 on Amazon.com.

I hear that many people have already received free iPods, and I'm happy to receive 5 free movie rentals from Blockbuster. So, maybe it will work for you too.

Just click on this link: Free iPod Offer.

(Yes, I do feel dirty.)

Yes, Mother

This morning I had my blood drawn to help “put my mind at ease,” as the nurse put it, that this pregnancy is real. I’m pretty sure everything’s OK because, during the last week, Brian and the kids’ ability to annoy me has doubled every 48 hours.

This being my fourth time around, I realize every pregnancy is completely different and yet somehow the same. I've never experienced symptoms this early in a pregnancy before now. But every time I see that second pink line on a pregnancy test, my brain signals my low back to ache, then derails any motivation I had in my non-pregnant state. At night I have no energy to maintain basic hygiene habits, let alone write.

Sitting at my desk for eight hours straight, entranced by Blog Explosion, compounds the problem of course. Blog Explosion induces a kind of catatonia on me, rendering me unable to stand up or otherwise remove myself from my computer chair.

This lack of energy and aimless distraction has triggered every out of control behavior my kids have ever exhibited: throwing food and toys, fighting and hitting, jumping on the couch, spitting at the dinner table, throwing hard objects at the TV screen, at me even..

If I went on one of the Wife Swap shows, I’d be the mom with the ungrateful, dependent, animalistic kids. They’d send me to a house where the children end every sentence with “ma’am,” causing me to weep with admiration. My kids would make the other mother cry tears of rage, so at the end of the show she felt compelled to instruct me on effective discipling and maternal self-control. Consumed by the shame of public scrutiny and shaking with inferiority, I’d choke out the words “I ... need .... to,” - sniff, snort - “learn some .... parenting.... skills.”

My son John, in particular, continues to prove that 2½ year olds and newly pregnant women should not spend long periods of time together. In any public place where he must stay within a 20-yard radius or use his "indoor voice" for more than 2 minutes, he takes off running or lets out this head-rattling bellow, causing all other patrons to glare at me until I take him outside. Outside he flashes his catawampus grin, full of glee because he got exactly what he wanted.

It’s just my hormonal attitude talking, I know. But John’s current, year-spanning developmental stage? Might drive me to apply to Wife Swap. If it dents this toddler’s 13-year-old attitude, I could take whatever public humiliation I suffer.

Sometimes John even sounds like a 13 year old. Last week he began saying “Yes, Mother,” to everything I say or ask. But he has a Boston accent and affects this low, drawn-out monotone, so it sounds like “Yes, Muh-thah.”

“John.”

“Yes, Muh-thah.”

“Will you stop throwing your toys?”

“Yes, Muh-thah.”

“Oh, you fell! Are you OK?”

“Yes, Muh-thah.”

“John, eat your vegetables.”

“No, Muh-thah.”

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Yes, Muh-thah.”

Things Are Looking Up

I think the planets are aligned in my favor or something. Last week, I met a former boss of mine for lunch. She had offered me writing work over the summer, which I had to turn down because I lost my babysitter and couldn’t take the stress (or the cost) of hiring another one.

Anyway, I enjoyed seeing her. Of all my bosses, she was my favorite, because she was my first editorial mentor but also because she always has stories to tell and makes me laugh. The best part of the lunch, though, was when she said “The next time I have a project, I’m going to call you!” With our current financial woes, this was music to my ears. She said she occassionally has assignments with longer deadlines, so I could work around Brian’s schedule. I didn’t think I had a chance of getting assignments from her, so I am psyched about this.

I got some other good news this weekend. Julie at DotMoms has added me to the schedule! DotMoms and Mom in the Mirror were two of the first blogs I ever read (along with Mom-Blog and Dooce). They inspired me to blog in the first place. I’m quite starry-eyed about the whole thing, and so excited that I couldn't be a normal person and just wait until my first post goes up. No, I had to tell you about it right away! My first DotMoms post will appear on November 11. (Whoops, there go the butterflies ... Did I mention I'm also nervous?)

The other positive writing thing this week is that Jay over at The Zero Boss has posted the details for Blogging for Books #5. And I think I can drum something up.

On a personal note, thanks to all of you who expressed concern after my “not in a good way” post a few weeks ago. The bad news? I’m still tired. The good news: It’s most likely because (drum roll) I’m pregnant! Yup, no week-long pity party of imbibing, nursing hangovers and riding rollercoasters for me! It’s so early, I’m not getting my hopes up. But it is a start. And I figure, if it’s a false alarm, I’d probably blog about it anyway, so why not share the good news?

Yep, things are definitely looking up.

This Is It!

The election is here. Finally! The most important election of our lifetime.

Before you vote, will you listen to a few voices that I believe deserve your attention?

The first voice is Alaa, who writes The Messopotamian, to Bring One More Iraqi Voice of the Silent Majority to the Attention to the World. If you have never read his blog, now's a great time to start. He has something to say about our presidential election. (Read the top two posts.)

The second voice is really many voices, The Swift Boat Veterans for Truth. This group represents more than 250 veterans, including the entire chain of command above Lt. Kerry in Vietnam and men who fought by his side. The group consists of former military officers and enlisted men who served in Vietnam on U.S. Navy "Swift Boats" or in affiliated commands, as well as former prisoners of war and their families.

Please, will you take a moment to watch the two videos on their main page? Whatever our views, I believe these honorable men deserve a few minutes of our attention before we cast our ballots.


Band of Brothers?