Miscellaneous Quotables

I know, I'm prejudiced, but I think John is quite articulate for an almost four year old.

"John, you don't want that marble toy, you already have one."
"No, I don't. It's not even that kind, it's similar."

"What are you doing in there, John?"
"I'm doing everything important, Mama!"

Ben tells everyone he meets that he is five and a half -- a big kid. But isn't five a little young to be obsessed with kissing girls?

"Dad, when something scares me, I think about something else."

"That's a good thing to do."

"Like, last night, I dreamt I kissed Mary* on the lips."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. It was a nightmare."

Then he walks into the family room and says to me, "I dreamt I kissed Mary on the lips."

"Oh yeah?"

"Because I was in love with her. That was a big nightmare."

Another fear of Ben's is losing the comforts of home. He nearly became hysterical watching the Ox Cart Man. All seemed blissful until Brian decided to narrate.

"So, all year long, he whittled sticks ..."

"I don't want to live that way."

"See, she spins the wool into yarn ..."

"I don't wanna live that way."

"They work hard to make sure they have what they need."

"I don’t wanna live that way, because the markets are too far away. Way too far away. Wicked far away!"

"Well, they have the horse and wagon ..."

"I’d rather live this way. They have no lextricity, no TV! I don’t wanna have my own cow. No chickens, no pigs, no apple trees. That would be no fun! No electricity, no TV, no lights! It’s just candles!"

We almost decided to pretend we lost electricity right then, but we thought that would put him over the edge.

On another miscellaneous note, Ben came home last Tuesday with a drawing of him and John eating pizza together. Underneath, it said, "I'm thankful for my brother John, because he plays with me."

Today, when I dropped John off at preschool, his teacher gave me his thankful "feather." On it was written, "My baby Ava."

"The other kids said things like hot chocolate and their toys," she told me. "When he said, 'My baby Ava,' all the teachers said, 'Aaaaaw.' You're doing a good job teaching them values."

At which point I got all verklempt, then said a word of thanks that she hadn't read my thanksgiving list, which was full of drugs and cars and such.

*Name changed to protect the unwitting.

Charity Begins at Birth

My latest post is up at DotMoms ...

My Thanksgiving Top 10

I'm working on this brilliant, funny post about how my parenting style has changed since five years ago. Except, so far, it's not brilliant, or funny. So... we'll have to settle for a Thanksgiving Day top 10. These are the things I'm most thankful for this year:

10. Coffee. (Except Starbucks' coffee that I drink any time after noon, causing me to stay awake until 3 am.) I never was one of those "must have my coffee," morning people. During my vegan years, I even gave up coffee and drank stuff like Postum with barley malt syrup and soy milk. Yum! Er, not so much. But now, I stumble downstairs, unable to speak or crack a smile until I've had at least two cups.

9. Chocolate. I realized how much a loved chocolate when I moved away to college, away from my mother's steady stash. Only then did chocolate take it's rightful place on my grocery list, under cigarrettes and above beer.

8. Beer. I've never been a wine person. I like Harpoon, Sam Adams, and when I want something lighter, Budweiser.

7. Ice cream. I haven't eaten ice cream in more than three months, since we discovered the milk proteins in my breast milk bother Ava to the tune of screaming until her face turns purple and almost ruptures. At this point I'm feeling so deprived that it's my No. 1 topic in therapy and I'm making a collage of Hood and Edy's ads to work through my feelings of desperation. I've replaced ice cream with food in general, which is why I had to wear my biggest jeans all day yesterday, to stretch them out for today. There's still too tight ...

6. My house. Even though it's cluttered, not decorated (the first thing people ask when they come over is, "Did you just move in?") and the source of much angst -- financial and otherwise -- I do love this house. I'm thankful that we bought it before prices got completely outrageous.

5. My kids. I can't believe I've birthed three children, and none of them are super ugly! I'm not kidding, Brian and I used to laugh about our poor future children and what they might look like. But somehow, they got the good-looking genes that must be hiding in our bodies.

4. Health. Oh yeah, my kids are healthy, and my family and friends are, too! That's one thing I am thankful for each and every day.

3. Our cars. I know, kind of boring. But lots of families struggle with one car, and thank God when things get tough I can strap the kids in and drive. And they can't move! They're stuck in their seats! I could drive all day!

2. My mom. If you knew how many times she bailed me out in the past year, you would lose all respect for me.

1. The Internet. No, I don't love the Internets more than my family or beer, but I will say that having this blog, having all the friends and acquaintances I've made in the past year, being part of DotMoms .... all of it has been a huge blessing in my life. I had no idea the world beyond shopping, email that existed online! God bless the Internets, and all of you!

I ran out of numbers, but I'm also grateful for my husband, who will unplug my computer and yell at me if I don't wrap this up right now so we can leave. Love ya, honey!

Happpy Thanksgiving everyone!

What are you thankful for this year?

Check Out DotMoms!

Julie has been sprucing things up over at DotMoms. Last night, she added pictures of all the DotMoms to the bios page, and this really cool slideshow thingy to the main page.

My picture makes me look like I'm 12, but what the hell. If only you knew how many pictures Brian and I took (4,676) to get one decent one of me. *sigh* At least you can't see my crow's feet.

From Good to Bad to ... Holding

Yesterday my mom babysat, as she'd promised for my birthday. Woo hoo! Brian and I blew off some steam by going to the Expo Design Center to shop for ... a toilet. Not so woo hoo! But we looked for a sink too, so it wasn't all hopper shopping.

Ava wouldn't take a bottle so we had to keep leaving and coming back. My mom suffered the most with that, because she had to deal with screaming, boob-deprived baby.

Actually, the first time we came back because I forgot to take my cell phone and to leave the stroller behind for my mother (remember my broken brain?). We arrived to Ava screaming and hiccuping and all red and blotchy and looking at me like, "Well, look who the cat dragged in."

After feeding Ava, we decided to get really wild and go to the lighting store to look for a new chandelier for our dining room. By this point, I had a long face on because I wanted to go toy shopping at Target, and Brian kept repeating, "I thought we were going to get something DONE," until I wanted to kick him. Yeah, we're a fun couple.

After the lighting store I insisted that we stop at Starbucks, because at the very least I wanted a Starbucks on my day out. Since it was about 4 pm at this point, I ordered a decaf. But I forgot that for me, a decaf Starbucks equals about three cups of regular coffee. I remembered this at about 2:30 this morning, lying in bed with a dead-tired body and a wide-awake (but broken) brain.

So at 2:30 am I got up and woke Ava to feed her, rather than falling asleep just to have her wake soon after. Feeding her got prolactin racing through my veins, and I thought I might fall asleep at last. Then I heard suspicious coughing. You veteran parents out there, you know what that suspect coughing was, don't you?

If you guessed vomiting, you are right! Poor John. I'll spare you the details, but just when I thought John escaped the stomach flu Ben had last week, well, he didn't. I cleaned him all up, got into bed, then woke up at 5 am to Ben, curled up next to me and crying that "John threw up." I sat up in time to see Brian sprinting through the room, saying, "There's puke everywhere! I got this one! It's everywhere! But it's OK!"

Consequently, it's been a laundry, Lysol kind of day around here, again. I have decided to take my germ battle in a new direction: I will battle them from the inside out. To fortify the little immune systems around here I have ordered mushroom pills, and we're having kale soup for dinner every night for the rest of the winter, with sweet potatos for breakfast and broccoli for lunch. But for now, all I can do is shake some ginger ale flat and open another sleeve of Saltines.

As for Miss Cheeks, so far so good. As revenge for taking my breasts and leaving her yesterday, she rolled from her tummy to her back this morning, twice -- for my mother! What nerve, huh? When she napped this afternoon, she rolled way over on her side, too. So the rolling-at-will, it is close at hand.

I know this is kind of a random post, but I had to get my silly freewrite from Friday off the top of the page. Stay well, everyone! In other words, stay away from my house!

Friday Freewrite

Here are some writing prompts to spark a 15-minute freewrite for you. I hope you'll play along either by posting your freewrite here or on your blog. Or, you can leave a suggestion for a future prompt. I'll give you credit when I use it.

Today's Prompts:
1."Welcome home, weary traveler!"
2. A mackeral sky
3. Small town girl in the big city

~~~

I knew it would come to this, that I'd have to leave. But I didn't think it would be so soon.

I've got my bags packed, and I'm sitting on my bed. It's 3am. If I leave now, I can catch the train in town, the 3:30 train to New York City. Then, who knows.

Finally I force myself to stand up, and carefully open my bedroom door. My mom is snoring, a good sign. I tiptoe down the stairs, my bag over my shoulder, my shoes in my hand. I slipped my jacket into my room after dinner, mom never noticed.

The air is colder than I expected, and for a moment I consider going home to grab another coat. But then I realize, there's no going back now.

At the train station, people give me strange looks, and I begin to get nervous that someone will call the cops on me. I pay for my ticket and sit on the cold bench, and look down at my shoes. When I hear a train pull up I look and sure enough it's for me. I have that feeling like I had in swim class when I was five years old, standing on the diving board, knowing I didn't want to jump, but believing it was something I had to do.

I nestle into my seat, and surprise myself by falling asleep. XXXXX station is grittier than I imagined. The $25 in my pocket will only take me so far, so I set about finding a Salvation Army or Catholic Charities, someone who can help me. I'm hungry, and I know I should eat, but I can't. I need to find a soup kitchen.

Out on the street, the sun is shining, people briskly walk to their destinations, and for a moment I feel like one of them, like I have a destination too.

Blog Book Tour: It’s a Boy

Author Andrea Buchanan’s Blog Book Tour continues to take the blogosphere by storm. Today, it's my turn to whet your appetite for her must-read literary anthology, It's a Boy: Women Writers on Raising Sons.

At first, I planned on interviewing Andi. But since I want to be Andi, an accomplished writer of immense talent, I decided to keep the lines of communication between us to a minimum, lest I become all starry-eyed and begin stalking her. Besides that, Meredith did a fantastic interview with her just yesterday, so why re-invent the wheel? There’s another interview here, along with some beautiful pictures of Andi with her kids.

I loved this book and plan to give it as a gift to the mothers of boys in my life. The essays made me laugh some, but mostly I cried, because I'm like that, and because, as the mom to two boys, I could feel the weight of these women's words on my heart. The essays also took me back to my own fears that I would mother only boys, never to experience a daughter.

With my first pregnancy, the brazen way people asked me "what" I was carrying left me agape. Now I realize everyone does it, and I do too. But I just say, "Did you find out?" and respond with, "Excellent, congratulations," pretty much no matter what. Other people? Not so much. After a while, when a stranger asked, "So, what is it?" I'd say “A human, I hope.”

The sex question annoyed me to the point that, for my first pregnancy, we decided not to find out the sex. This was hard, as I wanted to know -- oh how I wanted to know! But that just shows the lengths I’ll go to have the last word.

When I got pregnant with Ava, my third baby, it got even worse. I’d schlep around town with my big belly and my two, ahem, energetic boys, ages 3 and 5. Every single person I came across felt the need comment. “Oh, God, I hope it’s not another boy," they all said. "You'll be in big trouble, then.”

One particularly obnoxious grocery store bagger added, “That would be horrible!”

Standing at the checkout that day, dead tired and, yes, worried that she may be right, I felt anger boiling up inside -- plus a burning desire to break some eggs over her head. I wish I had retorted with, "No, miscarrying would be horrible. A third boy would be just great."

Instead, all my resentments for these "Oh no, not a boy!" comments, all my fears that I may never mother a daughter, started oozing out of my eyes in the form of tears. I blinked them away and glanced up at the the older, wiser cashier. She gave me a look that said, "Hey, you get to leave. I'm stuck here with her."

Sure, I wanted a girl, bad. But, how dare complete strangers declare to a woman with child that a boy would be doomsday cometh? What happened to the sanctity of life, cherishing good health? Where is the decorum? The tact? Boys love their mothers!

Back in the minivan, I strapped the boys in, then lifted my own swollen body into the driver's seat. While the boys yelled, "Drive, Mama, drive!" I paused to rest my hand on my stomach and make a little speech:

"Dear baby. You can grow a penis, and I will still love you. I may be more tempted to have a fourth baby, to invest in rubberized walls, and to enforce helmet-wearing 24/7. I may need multiple medications when you bring home Tinkerbell types. But if you promise to keep breathing and growing and all that, I will never bemoan my fate. I want you, high testosterone levels or no."

When the ultrasound tech said, "That looks like a labia," I cried, tears of relief and joy. But in the car going home, I felt disappointment. Because I'm like that, nothing can be all good.

The feelings were real, though. I'd never again be "The Queen." I'd never be the sole woman of the house. There would be an other, soaking up the attention of my men with her wily ways. What if she hates me? She will at some point, I know it. She'll shriek at me and make me cry, like I did to my mother.

Of course, I'm thrilled to have a girl to go with my two buddies. We got boat loads of hand-me-downs, and the clothes are to die for, especially after five years of trucks and balls. She actually has a velvet section in her closet. So far, the biggest challenge has been keeping her two- and three-piece ensembles together, lest they never see each other again. I'm only four months in, though, so raising a girl is still a complete mystery to me. Which is why I'm looking forward to the January release of It's a Girl, the sister anthology, also edited by Andi.

OK, so go buy the book now, or request it at the library, or something. Go on! Shoo. I've blathered on long enough.

Private Counsel

I'm at DotMoms today, bellyaching about my incompetence. Come on over, it'll be fun!

Random Weekend Cuteness

Friday Freewrite

Today's the day that I post a writing prompt for a 15-minute freewrite and hope that some of you play along, either by posting your freewrite here or on your blog. Another way you can participate is to leave a suggestion for a future prompt. I will, of course, give you credit when I use it.

I'm adding a few more prompts to increase the odds that something sparks your imagination.

Today's prompts:
• Your death is my gain
• Like the grim reaper at my door
• Historic cemetary

"I'm gonna die."

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad."

"I can't do this."

"Yes, you can."

Jan slipped her wallet into her purse as she walked toward the door. "I'm telling you, it'll kill me."

"Jan, you've been here for two weeks. Your husband is waiting for you to come home."

"Yes, I know, I know. Damn it, why is it always me that has to give in?"

"Well, you are the one who smashed his car."

"I know, I know."

"And, you neglected to tell him about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Until he needed to use the car, then found it all smashed up in the garage."

"Do we have to re-live this now?"

"Jan, he was on a business trip for three weeks. Why didn't you have it fixed, or at least call him and find out what he wanted you to do? I mean, it's not like you could have kept it from him forever."

"No kidding, Ally. Look, I already told you, that's what I do. When something's too hard for me to deal with, I don't deal with it."

"So now your marriage is too hard to deal with, so you're not going to deal with it?"

Jan laid her suitcase on the hall table and popped it open. She took out a lipstick and smeared it on her lips, then began assembling papers from some briefs she'd read last night. "Are you trying to make it easier for me to go home?" she asked, not looking up.

"Yes, I am," Ally smiled. "Go home!"

"OK, OK, message received. Tonight, I will go home after work. I promise I will not chicken out again. I'll be back for my stuff this weekend. You do know that apologizing to Bob will kill me."

"I know, good luck!"

Ally blew a kiss, and Jan exited, giving the door a slight slam. "Your death is my gain," Ally muttered.

She took a few cleansing breaths and looked around her now larger apartment. Her unwanted houseguest had vacated at last, and there was no sense in waiting to change the locks.

Germs: 3, Wonder Mom: 0

The germs didn't take kindly to my attacks, and now they're seeking retribution. We had a healthy household for about five days, then Ben started throwing up yesterday. John says he feels fine, but he feels hot to me.

Germs: Successful transmittance of two head colds, one chest cold and one stomach flu.

Wonder Mom: One empty can of Lysol and a bathroom to clean.

Wild Things

In all my pregnant laziness last spring, I never followed up about Ben's baseball birthday party. Despite my angst about themes and games, the boys did what boys do: they played. As you can see here, the sprinkler and the nozzle to the hose provided much unanticipated amusement. A raucous time was had by all.

Twisted Return-to-Workforce Dream

Last night I dreamt that I went back to work, for my former boss. She had a window office with sweeping ocean views. Clearly things had gone well for her.

The initial meeting went great. I couldn't wait to get started! Oh, until I forgot to show up the first week. I woke one morning in a panic, realizing how bad I messed up. After battling traffic for an hour, I arrived at my desk, only to spend the next two hours alternately searching for the cafeteria and trying to remember my computer's password.

Every cafeteria I went to closed down as I approached. They wouldn't give me a cup of coffee let alone a bagel. Back at my desk, I gave up on the password and just opened a big black binder of work that my caffeine-free brain couldn't hope to decipher.

I had to call my boss but didn't want to until I got some work done. By 11 a.m., I still hadn't accomplished anything and, oh shit! Time to go pick up John from preschool. At least I woke up before I got fired.

Maybe the dream means I shouldn't think about going back to work right now. More likely, though, it means I shouldn't reminisce about college right before bed.

I'm in Love

I’ve been meeting this young lady for drinks every night. Eight o’clock sharp. Well, I don’t usually drink. I sit there all doe-eyed with my arm around her, watching her, falling deeper in love. And she swigs, cheeks blushing, eyes rolling back in sweet relief.

It's been going on for a few months now. Last night, though, she drank and drank. Party all the time with this girl. She finally passed out, when I had not an ounce left to offer her.

This morning I figured she'd awake with one thing in mind, as usual. But instead, she noticed me. Me! She looked into my eyes and smiled.

I nuzzled my nose into her neck, her belly, planting kisses all the way. She purred and giggled. Something came over me and I just couldn’t stop kissing her face and ears and lips and head. For once it seemed all about us and not the damned drink.

But of course she’d have none of this foreplay without the real thing. She started getting rough, swinging her head around and pinching my skin. Before I knew it, my shirt was off.

She's such a lush.

Is 36 Too Early for a Mid-Life Crisis?

This week it hit me: What the hell am I doing? I mean with my career. My writing.

Considering that at age 72, the best years of my career may well be behind me, I think it’s accurate to say I’m having a mid-life crisis. When I received Andrea Buchanan’s new book in the mail, It’s A Boy, I flipped through the table of contents to see who contributed essays. I realized that, I wish I was one of the contributors. I wish that I was writing on that level.

I don’t like to sit around and cry in my coffee, feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been busy these last five years, having three children and all that. But out of no where this week, this overwhelming feeling of failure came over me. I can’t seem to shake it.

Part of it could be the post-partum blues, the reality that, right now, I have very little time and mental space for myself and my dreams. Part of it is disappointment in myself for not having more discipline to write daily, to focus on a goal, to make it happen. Part of it is not having a goal. What do I want?

Now that Ava’s four months, I know things will get back to “normal,” that I’ll start to regain some sense of routine so I can get my bearings, take stock.

Last night, Brian suggested I finish my master's at Emerson College. I need another 24 credits, I think. Where's the money for that, though? And where would I want that to take me?

For today I’m wallowing in my lack of accomplishments, my lack of direction. What the hell am I doing? I guess I need to figure that out.

Fearing SIDS

Ava turned four months old last week, landing smack in the middle of the age bracket -- two to six months -- when Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) is most common. Every day ...

Please stop by DotMoms to check out my latest post.

Friday Freewrite

Play along, won't you? Details are here.

Today's prompt: Contempt started it

Contempt

Contempt started it. I knew I was better than her. For once, I could be the tormentor instead of the tormented. It almost makes me laugh to think that she considered me a friend.

Once when the two of us were sitting on a bench in the park, she told me I was the best friend she had. The sun had that golden color it gets in early November, and the wind spun the leaves up around us as we talked. I started to say thanks, but chose that moment to turn on her, and instead looked at her and said, "Really?"

Of course it all comes back to a man, doesn't it always? Jason and I spent the summer together, hanging out, having sex, the whole thing. When Julie came back from the lake in September, she'd changed. I mean, she was still the same insecure, self-absorbed little snot, but the sun had darkened her skin and lightened her mousy brown hair. And hormones had widened her in all the right places.

I began to hate her when she kept hanging around me, acting like she had no life, when an idiot could see those blonde streaks and the new size B boobs, the lack of imperfection. At the mall, in the halls at school, I saw it again and again. Julie caught the eye of every cute guy we walked by. They'd stare at her body, smile and, if they were with friends, begin gesturing or, if they were alone, snap their neck around to keep staring. Somehow Julie never noticed this. Somehow these guys never noticed me, even as I stared and willed them to.

Trick-or-Treat

OK, are you ready for one last dose of Halloween goodness? Check out the first-ever DotMoms Halloween Photo Gallery!

My Goblins

*teaser alert* DotMoms is having a picture day very soon, with a Halloween theme. I had a hard time choosing, so I'm posting my runners up here. You'll probably laugh at the one I did choose for DotMoms. Oh well, we did OK considering the dead-as-a-doornail camera battery we discovered at trick-or-treat time.


Ben wanted, above all, to be scary this Halloween. But all he got from people on the street was, "Hey, Darth Vader, I know you!" Not giving up hope, toward the end of the night he said to John, "Maybe we can find some really little kids to scare!" John, as always, is his willing accomplice.


This boy loves candy. I didn't choose this for DotMoms because of the red eye. Someday, I'll learn to fix that.


Way passed her bedtime, a missed feeding, tossed on her brother's bed in the confusion of a chocolate- and sugar-infused bedtime. But she still had smiles for Mama. Thanks, sweetie.