Still Doing Dishes: A True Story

You know what’s extra annoying when you don’t get a job you kind of wanted? Reading all your favorite blogs and finding out that they ALL did get the job. (Cue the violins.) How often does it happen that there are 30 jobs to lose rather than one, and that ALL your favorite bloggers who you ALWAYS knew were more talented than you just got ALL 30 jobs, while you just ... well, you don't have a job.

This, my friends, is why I won’t be blogging this week. I have a case of the “poor me’s.” It’s for the good of everyone, trust me.

I had the good sense to swipe my husbands laptop this morning and head to the local coffee shop to clean out my head and perhaps form three or more thoughts in a row, like a smart person. Something I haven't done in a while. Which got me to thinking ...

For some reason I accepted a slew of free product offerings and now there’s a literal pile on my desk that’s beginning to make me feel like Wonder Mom is a job. How the hell did that happen? We must rectify this immediately.

How? By getting them all off my desk, and into your hands. Every day this week, Monday through Friday, I will post a about a book or music CD. If you wish to win it, leave a comment on the post, and I will draw a name next Sunday, May 7. (Feel free to leave a comment but request not to be in the drawing.)

(And if you're wondering where the heck I got the title for this post, it's this: When I got home from the coffee shop a zillion dishes awaited me. I found myself once again, the story of my life, doing dishes, with nothing cool, like a new writing gig, to think about while doing them. A stretch, I know.)

Tomorrow’s giveaway: Be Happy or I’ll Scream, by Sheri Lynch.

Fun, fun, fun! Blogging is fun! Even without a steady paycheck!

There Goes My Baby

My latest post is up at DotMoms. I thought I'd add a little pictorial here.

My 10-month-old has leapt out of the nest, all fuzzy head and uncoordinated limbs ...

First of all, I know I'm being totally selfish to want to keep the rolls on her legs considering we still have these cheeks:



Second, things have changed so fast in the last few weeks. Now, every time I look at her she is standing there. Standing. There.



One would think I'd be more concerned about the germs she's getting on her hands than grabbing the camera. But, no.



And last but not least, in addition to knowing how I feel about Ava's new-found mobility, Ava wanted you all to know how she feels about it.

What's Your Earliest Memory?

Another strange thing about me is that I have very early memories, starting from about age 2, maybe earlier. Brian barely remembers anything before second grade, but I remember:

• Getting my diaper changed. I can picture my sister, Sandie, and my Mom's faces over me as I laid there, and I can picture the bottle of powder sitting on the table beside me. I had an emotional reaction when, as a parent, I opened a bottle of Desitan. That smell! My mom used cloth diapers, talc, and pins.

• My Mom and Sandie trying to get me to eat. Sandie said, "Take her milk away from her if she's not going to eat!" so my mom did. I felt so betrayed.

• Laying in my crib with my bottle, staring at the bare light bulb in my parent's bedroom, watching my Mom fold laundry on her bed. My bedroom was off of hers.

• Taking baths in the kitchen sink.

• Hanging out with my Sandie and her boyfriend, Bruce. Being his parent's house, opening plastic Easter eggs full of jelly beans at their coffee table. Sandie married Bruce when I was 3 (she was 17). I remember being squeezed between them on the bench seat of Bruce's car as he did donuts in the parking lot of Riverside School. I can picture the coat he was wearing and the feeling of being pulled against the seat as the car spun.

• Climbing out of my crib for the first time, onto my sister's bed. I ran straight into my parents' bedroom.

• Eating Spic 'n Span in the bathroom when my older brother Mark was babysitting me. Apparently the taste was bad enough to prevent me from killing myself with the stuff.

• My first days of kindergarten and first grade.

What's your earliest memory?

Things I Hate About You

"Hate" is a little strong. But have you seen that show? It's funny, and yet quite dangerous to marital stability.

Amanda started a meme, a list of things her husband does that annoy her. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve thought of doing this. But I was afraid I’d get all diplomatic and write things I do that annoy him, too, and that would suck every bit of fun out of giving my husband a hard time. Amanda’s list, however? Is pure, how-he-annoys-her bliss, with a little “I love you, honey” sprinkled at the top and bottom for good measure. I can do that.

Love you, honey! Here are 10 things I love about my husband:
1. He's handsome
2. He's kind and giving
3. He's generally upbeat and energetic
4. He's smart
5. He works hard
6. Censored
7. He gives a great back rub
8. Censored
9. When the garbage disposal broke inexplicably the other day (ahem), he installed a new one, without much complaining.
10. He's an awesome dad who spends lots of time playing with the kids.
11. He lets me sleep in on the weekends when I’m pregnant or nursing, which has been pretty much the last seven years straight.

See, I couldn’t keep it to 10! That’s how much I love him! And now ....

1. He’s wishy-washy. When we make a decision, say, what kind of flooring to put down on the family room floor (wood), he’ll wait a few days and then broach the topic again, as if we never discussed it or made a decision. (“What do you think of wall-to-wall carpet in here?”)

2. Related to No. 1, I say, “There’s no way I will condone a chain-link fence. I hate them, they’re ugly, I refuse, don’t even bring it up again.” Two days later, “So, what do you think about a chain-link fence?”

3. He has two jobs -- and it kills him when I say this, because he has many jobs -- but he has two jobs related to regular cleaning of the house: keep the litter box clean and empty the trash. For some reason he ignores the trash, and when he does attend to it, he takes it out of the bucket and leaves the bag on the kitchen floor so that we can squeeze more trash into it, instead of just taking it out. And my basement/laundry room/play room? Smells like cat shit. Always. Yes, I’m home, I take out the trash half the time. But I refuse to touch the litter box. Can we just get rid of the cat?

4. When he’s at work and I call him, he acts like he’s the president of the @#$@ United States and cannot talk to me for two $!%!@# seconds.

5. When he’s late coming home from work, he doesn’t call me until the time that I expect him to walk through the door. This means during “dinner hour,” when I’m juggling the stove, the baby, the boys, holding on in desperation for those last few moments until he comes home and then ... Ring!

6. Like Amanda and Julie’s husbands, Brian does not wipe the counters. He will feed both boys, himself, me, then carry on with the afternoon, with mail, magazines, etc. all over the counters. Then I’ll come in and find crumbs and splotches of milk all over my free books.

7. We live in a very liberal area of the country. We’re conservative. He likes to talk politics with pretty much anyone at any given moment. So, yes, if we want friends, we need to move to middle America, or at the very least, northern New Hampshire.

8. We live in a fixer upper. Brian starts a project, gets most of it done, then moves on to another project before finishing the first one. For example, right now our new bathroom isn't finished and the new tile floor in the kitchen still needs thresholds installed. But Brian can't understand why I want him to finish those things before starting to install the new wood floor in the family room.

9. He just refuses to declutter his crap, that is, PUT STUFF AWAY. If I ask him to spend some time cleaning up the office, he’ll sit at the desk and go through bills which is entirely not what I meant. I should have seen this coming, I mean, I dated him and college and witnessed first hand the junk heap that was his single. Every place we’ve lived in has had a least one room piled high with crap, which I spend weeks cleaning only to have it revert right back to previous crap-levels. And I blame him. (Remember, I said I’m not being diplomatic.)

10. He feigns only passing interest in my writing gigs, yet expects me to remain rapt for hours as he talks about the deal he got on his new table saw, the amazing play on the Red Sox last night or the virtues of Burger King’s dollar menu.

Love you, honey! As my Mom would say, if these are the worst things about you, then I'm pretty lucky. Actually, what she says is, so long as you're not hanging out at the bar, I'm lucky. But, whatever. xoxo.

Review: We Are ... The Laurie Berkner Band

My enthusiastic foray into children's music flamed out about three years ago, after attending two years of KinderMusic and investing in the entire Raffi collection but before getting some much-coveted Ralph's World. This was before I knew The Laurie Berkner Band was the "it" kids' group among hip parents everywhere. My friend Gina even declares The Laurie Berkner Band to be the "the BEST children's music EVER," on her blog. Needless to say, when a PR firm offered to send me a copy of We Are ... The Laurie Berkner Band to review, I couldn't resist.

We have many videos and DVDs, but few music videos for the kids (just a few Christian ones (Action Bible Songs, which my kids surprise me by loving). We are ... The Laurie Berkner Band is kind of like Baby Songs for the no-longer-babies, not-yet-tweens set. When I first put the DVD in for Ben and John to watch, they both grumbled. But after a few songs, they were engaged, and John especially got his little groove on.

A week or so later, while babysitting my neighbor's kids, I decided to play it again to get more live kid reactions. The DVD held the attention of a hungry audience of two five year olds, one four year old, one three year old, and one nine month old. I can think of no other show on my Tivo roster that would captivate or be appropriate for such a varied group. They all had smiles on their faces.

What I like about this DVD is that it's not overproduced. With catchy songs, silly lyrics, and fun but simple images, I can even let the baby watch it and not feel like it will put her into sensory overdrive. It's like bringing them to see a band, with a little extra imagery and a lot less cash spent by yours truly.

As far as the music itself, I did expect to like it a bit more. After reading all the glowing reviews on Amazon.com ("Thank God, an alternative to Raffi!), I expected The Laurie Berkner Band to be, well, better than Raffi. But I find the tunes a bit repetitive, that is, they all kind of sound the same to me. However, it's for kids, and mine (and the neighbor's) seemed to have fun with it.

If this were an Amazon review, I would give it four stars. But since this isn't Amazon, you'll have to settle for an enthusiastic ... four asterisks: ****

Strange But True

The only reason I'm doing yet another meme is because I got tagged by Croutonboy, and I have a little blog crush on Croutonboy, so here goes ...

Six strange things about me, which is entirely different than six things about me that you don't need to know but I'm telling you anyway.

1. To get a laugh, I often say wierd or inappropriate things, causing my companion to just kind of look at me like, Oooookaaaay. The "my head's on fire," comment would qualify. The more nervous I feel, the more off-the-wall my comment will be. If you knew me in person, you'd understand what I'm trying to say.

2. I have sixty-some-odd cookbooks and still have more titles that I want. Yet, when I'm looking for a recipe, I search online.

3. I have unusually sensitive skin, so I've had hives a bunch of times. Each time, my mom ages about 11 years, expecting me to go into anaphalactic shock at any moment. Last week I felt adventurous and washed my face with this instead of this. I paid with a case of contact dermatitis that started on one eye, spead all over my face and down my neck just in time for Easter picture taking.

4. If it weren't for my careful pruning, I'd have a moustache, beard and unibrow. Turned on yet?

5. I have a group of online friends, colleagues and employers whom I've known for years yet have never met or even spoken to on the phone.

6. I do memes. Last night, I asked my husband what is strange about me? He couldn't come up with anything, but asked why I wanted to know. As I tried to explain, ("Well, croutonboy tagged me, so I have to write six strange things about myself and ....") all I could say to make him understand was, "Because I'm still in junior high school, that's why."

More Naval Gazing

The lovely and superhero-ish Jamie of Super Mom 04 has tagged me with a meme: Six Things You Really Don't Need To Know About Me But I Am Telling Anyways.

This is great timing since I just gave you every minute detail of my day, as well as another meme detailing the intracacies of myself.

But we all know what blogging etiquette dictates: I must do the meme, which Jaime promises is "really fun." Here goes.

1. Four years ago this month, we were in a car accident. Ben and John, ages 22 months and 4 months, were both in the car. The boys were OK but Brian broke a vertebrae in his back and I got severe whiplash. My neck still hurts most days.

2. For the past three months I have been trying to lose 20 pounds through "baby steps." You know, "This week, I'll drink more water, next week I'll cut out fried foods, then I'll lift weights every day...." I have sworn off, I have binged, I have relapsed. So far, I haven't lost a pound. Yesterday, after declaring that "this is it," and "I am so done with overeating and not excercising," I ate four pieces of the red velvet cake my mom brought us for Easter. This led to a realization: For me, it's all or nothing. No I'm not giving up cake or laziness, but I've got to dive into a healthier lifestyle with both feet, or it ain't happening.

3. During the past year, I got back in touch with two old friends, both through Classmates. A high school friend contacted me last summer after 18 years, and we now talk regularly through email. Last winter, I found a college buddy whom I'd lost track of when her parents moved out of state, and we met for lunch last month. We hadn't seen each other in about 15 years.

Six seems like a lot, doesn't it? OK...

4. I applied for a writing job a few weeks ago and haven't heard anything. *sob*

5. I came up with the blog title "Wonder Mom" because the only blog I read was Dooce and she had just gone to San Francisco and visited Mighty Girl. It made sense at the time. At first I had the tagline "Yes, she does Fly," as an ode to FlyLady. But I decided it was too esoteric.

6. I'm a certified scuba diver but haven't been diving since I got pregnant in 1999. My mom ages about 11 years every time I dive.

Milestones: My First YouTube Post!

OK, that's not the milestone I'm excited about. Check it out! Yes that's me oooh-ing like a dork/excited mommy in the background.

Ben greeted me in the kitchen this morning as I stumbled to the coffee pot. "Mama! Ava was over by the tv, and got all the way over to the couch! Then she got all the way over to me!"

"Is she crawling?"

"Yeah!"

And she was. So, we started an important Wonder family rite of passage: I gave her a bowl of Cheerios on the family room floor so she would sit still for three seconds while I write this post. The bowl is purely ceremonial because as most parents know, within three seconds the Cheerios end up all over the rug and the bowl gets whipped across the room.

It didn't work anyway. I just noticed her eating a Bed & Bath coupon instead. I must find a new time of day to write blog posts ... Crawling means longer, more-consistent naps, right? Right!?

The ABCs of Wonder Mom

I got this from Edgy Mama. She's cool, therefore this meme is cool. I, however, am not cool, but I do have PMS, which makes my edgy.

Accent -- Boston, which means I might say "drivah" instead of "driver," and other people might pronounce "Ava" as "Aver" for which I might slap them. OK, that's just the PMS talking. But I hate that.

Booze of choice -- Harpoon Ale or IPA, or any beer within reach

Chore I hate -- Picking up after every damn person in this house.

Dog or cat -- Cat, but I'm a horrible cat owner. If I'm ever old and alone, though, I'll own a dog with big teeth.

Essential electronics -- My desktop. If I owned a wireless laptop or an iPod, they would be essential.

Favorite cologne -- Tribu by United Colors of Benetton.

Gold or silver? -- Gold.

Hometown -- North of Boston.

Insomnia? -- Only when I drink coffee after 3pm.

Job title -- Snack fixer, butt wiper, unemployed freelance writer.

Kids -- Ben (5 11/12ths), John (4), Ava (9 months).

Living arrangement -- I live with the above-mentioned three children, one husband, and one underappreciated cat.

Most admired trait -- I'm easy going. Bosses really like that. So does my mom. My husband begs to differ.

Number of sexual partners -- So not telling.

Overnight hospital stays -- Once in college for a mysterious pain in my side, then for my three babies.

Phobias -- Claustrophobia, and when I have my kids with me, fear of heights (that they will fall).

Quote -- I'm a quote addict. My biggest life quote is "Where there's a will, there's a way," but here are two that inspire me today:

"Life engenders life.
Energy creates energy.
It is by spending oneself
that one becomes rich."
-Sarah Bernhardt

"Discipline, 007. Discipline."
-James Bond, Goldfinger.

Religion -- Roman Catholic.

Siblings -- Mark, who just turned 51 yesterday (happy birthday! even though you don't have my blog address!), Sandy, who will be 50 this month, and Mike, 42.

Time I wake up -- 7:30, about an hour after I want to start waking up.

Unusual talent -- Putting up with my husband. (Kidding, honey! PMS, remember?)

Vegetable I refuse to eat -- Fiddleheads. There could be bugs in there.

Worst habit -- Spacing out at the computer instead of doing something productive.

X-rays -- Teeth (cavity hunting), lungs (pneumonia concerns), neck (car accident fall-out), feet (don't ask).

Yummy foods I make -- Nutritional-yeast-laden vegan casseroles that make my entire family gag but which I enjoy immensely. I also make a delicious lemon pasta, tuscan pasta and a mean PB&J.

Zodiac sign -- Libra. I'm opinionated but diplomatic (except during PMS), beautiful but melancholy (especially during PMS).

A Day in My Life

I’m joining Sheryl at PaperNapkin and sharing a “day in my life.” Try to stay awake now, ya hear?

12:05 a.m. Ava’s fussing. Maybe she’ll go back to sleep. I pull the blankets over my head. I just went to bed 45 minutes ago.

12:15 Scoop Ava out of her crib, sit on the edge of my bed and nurse her. Stare at the clock and at the Writer’s Digest magazine on my nightstand. Vow to go to bed earlier tonight.

5:30 Ava’s fussing. Maybe she’ll go back to sleep. Realize that if she goes back to sleep she’ll wake again at 6 and be up for the day. Hustle into her room to find her sitting up with her legs sticking out of the crib slats. Nurse her on the floor by her crib, because the sun’s already peeking through the curtains in my room.

5:45 Kick loud, obnoxious cat out of boys’ room. Go back to bed.

7:10 Alarm goes off. I lift my head, and Brian says, “Turn if off.”
“No shit,” I answer. I turn it off and pull the blankets back over my head.

7:30 Get up, make the bed and go into the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. Wake the baby up, change her diaper, get her dressed. Head downstairs. The boys are eating instant oatmeal at the counter, Brian’s scurrying around getting ready for work. I put Ava on the floor in the family room to play, then make John’s lunch: pineapple and avocado, bread and butter, soymilk with Ovaltine. Did I mention his preschool doesn’t allow peanut butter?

7:45 Go down the basement and throw in a load of laundry.

7:50 Go into the office and check email. Read Sheryl’s blog and leave a comment telling her I’ll do a “Day in the Life” entry.

8:00 Put makeup on, drag brush through hair, think it looks pretty good for a change. Put kids’ shoes on. Help Ben find a yellow toy to bring to school for “yellow day.” Grab some hair goop and try to make his hair look normal. Man, that kid needs a haircut. Kiss him good-bye. Say hi to my mom, who’s here to go with me to my MOPS meeting. She works as a babysitter in the nursery, where I put Ava during the meeting. Convenient, no?

8:15 Pack diaper bag. Look over order form for yet another preschool fundraiser. John wants the $9 water bottle, and I choose the $10 acrylic Christmas ornament. Normally I ignore these flyers, but John’s handprint will be on these along with “John 2006,” so I can’t resist.

8:35 Drive to the bakery downtown to buy cookies for the meeting. I planned on making cranberry muffins but decided at 8:30 last night to dye my hair instead.

9:00 Drop John off at preschool. Another mom asks if I’m still going to the same hair dresser. I tell her yes but I’m due for a cut, and she says, “Oh, your hair looks redder.” I explain that I just dyed it last night and that red fades fast but at first it’s bright. “My dad used to tell me I looked like my head was on fire.” She laughs. I no longer think my hair looks good.

9:15 Get to MOPS. Leave Ava and my Mom in the nursery and head for the buffet table.

9:30 Eat, drink and chat while listening to a lecture on anger. Take detailed notes.

10:30 Go nurse Ava.

11:00 Listen to one of my table mates monopolize the discussion with her tangents. I forgive her, she’s 38 weeks pregnant, but I wish I could share my thoughts. I feel like I do a lousy job controlling my anger.

11:15 Go get the baby. She’s sleeping in the car seat, but I wake her up while buckling her in. Wheel her around the meeting room. Grab the latest issue of Parenting from a giveaway pile, because I’ve been thinking of sending them a query.

11:30 Home. Put sleeping Ava in her crib, in her car seat. Check email while my mom clears away last night’s supper dishes. Eat pasta salad with her while perusing grocery flyers.

12:30 Pick John up at preschool. I ask the teacher how he did, because on Tuesday they said he hasn’t been listening. She pauses. “The same. He has a mind of his own.” I sigh and head back out to the van with John. Her comment upset me, and I start worrying about the job I’m doing with him.

12:45 Drop John off at the house to stay with my Mom while I go grocery shopping.

1:00 Peruse moldy 88-cent cantaloupes. Look for but never find a sirloin steak for John, aka, Mr. Picky.

1:30 Pick up Chronicles of Narnia DVD for $15.

1:45 Stand in line. Stress about the time.

1:50 While loading my groceries into the back of the van, I hear a loud smash! My cart comes hurling toward me and I catch it. “Holy Shit!!”
The car window rolls down and a 75-ish redhead appears. “Oh, dear!”
“It’s OK,” I tell her. “No damage, your car looks fine.”
“But did I hurt you?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Your car’s fine too.”
Take a deep breath. Get in the van.

2:00 Back at home, put the groceries away, while my mom plays with kids. Realize that my “day in the life post” will make me seem like a coddled princess. If only this was a usual day. Check my email. Go to Amazon to read about This Day in the Life, the book that inspired Sheryl to do these posts. Publishers Weekly says “There is not one piece in this compilation that is not captivating.” Wonder how captivating mine will be. Laugh.
Brian calls. The Microsoft test he had this afternoon in our town has been moved to Burlington. He’ll be late tonight.

2:30 John’s dressed in a dragon costume and yellow puddle jumpers when we walk to go get Ben from school. He’s the talk of the school pick up crowd.
Ben runs down the sidewalk toward the house, and John follows. I yell to John to be careful running in those boots. He falls and starts crying. He wants me to pick him up so I do, but his boots keep falling off. We go back and forth as I convince him to a) put his boots back on, and b) walk.

2:45 Read overly long note from Ben's teacher about the importance of putting lunch money in a baggie. Cut up the one non-moldy canteloupe I found at the store. Give it to the boys with a bunch of whipped cream. Sit at my desk and nurse Ava. There’s another book review request/free book offer, which I accept. I consider starting a book review site, then remember my brief but painful tenure as an English major and abandon the idea.

3:10 I’m having a hard time extracting myself from the computer chair. “Let’s go the park,” I announce. Ben wants to go to Endicott, John wants to go to “the park that was too crowded last time.”
“Mom chooses this time. The blue park.” They both whine and complain and start picking on each other. I spend the next hour trying to get John ready, getting the baby ready, breaking up fights, and telling them to stop complaining. I consider canceling the trip, but realize they need the park. Remember to grab a pad and paper to take notes for this entry.

4:00 Sit down on the bench and start taking notes while the boys play. Ava starts to cry. It’s windy and much colder than I’d hoped. I push Ava around in circles. John has to go the bathroom. Thank God there’s a new port-a-toilet on the side of the field. Stand waiting for the “occupied” toilet for 5 minutes before realizing no one’s in it.

4:15 John makes a little girl cry by telling her she can’t go on the slide because “it’s water.” She runs to a van in the parking lot, gets in, and the van takes off. Ben says, “They left because they hate John.”

4:45 Give 10 minute, 5 minute and 2 minute warnings that we’re leaving. Get in van while John runs around the playground, ignoring me. Finally he runs over asking for chalk. Explain again that we’re leaving. Turn on Howie Carr and take the long way home. Fantasize about pulling over and going to sleep.

5:00 At first I think it’s a mirage, but Brian’s car’s in the driveway. Woot! Brian and I discuss getting takeout then decide to cook turkey burgers with broccoli and salad, as planned. I start washing lettuce. Brian tells me he got home at 4, cleaned up the yard, took out the trash, cleaned the litter box and took some tools out of our almost-done bathroom. I get incredibly turned on.

Ben's says "poop" and "butt" and "penis." I give him a time out, he tells me he's going to "punch me in the face," a first. I escort him to his room.

John’s doing a Bible-related Leap Pad book. It keeps repeating, “You may never return. You should have listened to God,” in this deep, foreboding voice.

5:35 Ben's back and doing an Usborne map puzzle with Brian. I pile dinner stuff on the counter and announce that “It’s time to set the table!”

5:37 No one moves.

5:38 I get annoyed. “Time to set the table,” I say, louder. I realize that I never put the laundry in the dryer. The load won't get finished, which means more work tomorrow.

5:40 I’m mad. “Time to clear the table!” I say again. I think about the lecture on anger. Then I look at the calendar and realize this is The Week Before. I’ve got PMS.

5:45 Tell John he has to sit at the table with the rest of us, then change my mind and let him sit at the counter. John and Ben both reject the turkey burgers. Ben eats some red pepper and broccoli. John just eats the bread. I eat two burgers then regret it.

6:10 Instead of cleaning up, I lay down on the couch. The boys join me. We look at a Learning Resources catalog together for a few minutes before they start kicking each other. I kick them both off the couch. They apologize profusely and climb back up. I let them. Ben says, "Mama, I don't want you to die."

6:35 Brian calls me to the bathroom with an “emergency.” “This better be good,” I tell him.
“What’s that?” he asks, panicked.
“Dried urine,” I tell him. I go out to the kitchen and do some dishes.

6:45 I tell the boys if they go get their PJs on they can watch a video. They do, but when they come back down, John starts misbehaving. Brian takes him upstairs for some daddy time while Ben watches Reading Rainbow. Playing with Ava on the floor, I realize I haven’t changed a diaper all day. I love my mother.

7:00 Ava’s fussy so I take her upstairs to get her changed. Ben comes up, and I show him the new book I picked up at the pediatric GI’s office. They give a free book to every child, and I always take advantage. He says, “Yay!” runs into his room and gives it to Brian. John complains that he wants to read the Knight’s Kingdom book again. I retreat to my bedroom to nurse Ava.

7:05 Read an old issue of Martha Stewart Living that I picked up at MOPS while I nurse Ava. Understand why I don’t buy this magazine.

7:30 Clean up in the bathroom while Ben and John take turns on the toilet. Kiss them goodnight.

7:50 Clean up the kitchen and family room for a few minutes. Call Heather, the mom of Ben’s classmate Kyle, to talk about a playdate tomorrow. There’s no answer.

8:00 I planned to write but I’m too tired. I read blogs instead. I think again about the laundry in the washer, and remember that it was just towels. I feel better about not finishing it.

9:00 Brian and I talk about John, and the fact that after using time outs for a million years the boys still hit each other. We decide to put all the Imaginext castle stuff away, along with any thing else that has any violent connotations whatsoever.

Brian talks about the Microsoft certification he just got and which one he wants to get next. I talk about how I need something, anything, to do with my brain. I say that I should give up blogging so I can “Do something with my life.” But I know blogging isn’t keeping me from doing something with my life.

Discuss where to put the swing set we plan to buy. Brian wants to put it in front of the shed, behind the crabapple tree. I say we won’t be able to see them from the house. He says we can cut down one of the crabapples. I say I want to keep the pair, why don’t we put the swings closer to the house. He disagrees. I say I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

9:30 Have a beer and watch The Apprentice with Brian. Note that Donald has never fired a person from both teams in one boardroom. Hope this is the night.

11:15 Check email, wonder why I’m checking email. Shut everything down for the night.

11:30 Climb into bed. Brian gives me an amazing back rub, and I tell him I’d pay $1 a minute for this. He wants to have sex. I turn him down flat and fall asleep.

11:58 Ava’s fussing. Maybe she’ll go back to sleep.

Mom Fear

Even though all her kids have grown up, my mom still fears that something will happen to us. I understand it more now than I did growing up. But sometimes it still makes me laugh.

For example, last Friday, she slept over while Brian was out of town. On the way to the park with the kids, I stopped at the post office, parking on the side of the street. When I went to get out of the van she said, "Be careful of the cars," with that same old urgency in her voice. She really thought I might space out and step in front of a moving vehicle, right before her eyes. "Yes, Mom," I said in that please-stop-babying-me voice I've been honing since childhood. I might have rolled my eyes a little, too.

Then on Sunday night, I called her to confirm our plans for Monday. I got invited to a focus group in Boston, and my mom had agreed to babysit. But when I called her, I heard hesitation in her voice. "You know, I can blow it off if you don't feel like coming over," I told her. "It's not a big deal. Really."

"No, no. I'll come." After a pause, she said, "If you get there and you're the only woman there, get out!"

"Mom, do you think this is an Internet scam and they're going to kidnap me and sell me off as a sex slave?"

"Well ..."

"Mom, I'm old. They want girls for that."

Granted, people space out and step in front of moving vehicles. They even get sold to the sex trade. Horrible things happen every day, and my mom has experienced this first hand. When she was 12, her own mom died of a brain hemorrhage. Her beloved brother died during open heart surgery when he was 21. She lost her dad to alcoholism when she was in her twenties. So, she has seen things go wrong. And the older I get, the more things I have seen go wrong. So I get it. Mostly.

Monday morning, when I called the hotel that was hosting the focus group to get directions, they told me they didn't have directions for travelers coming from north of Boston. Ooookay. I had already checked Yahoo Maps, but the directions seemed hokey. Now, I had no choice but to rely on my GPS, which hasn't been updated with the Big Dig changes.

The first thing I did after crossing the Tobin bridge was miss my exit. My GPS started flashing and recalculating as I whizzed down the Storrow Drive toward God knows where. Surprisingly, I did find my way to Tremont Street, but I kept driving past the hotel. One would think a hotel would be easy to spot from the street, but no. When I called the hotel they told me they were across the street from some Bean restaurant. But alas, they were next door to it. In the end, I had to loop around Boston Common, ahem, four times before finding my way to the hotel, making it to the focus group 20 minutes late.

The group was kind of fun. Six other women and I shared our thoughts and ideas about technology and how it could better fit into our lives. My only complaint? The food. They told us there would be "plenty of food." So when I walked off the elevator and saw this huge buffet of all kinds of hot sandwiches and cookies, my stomach cried out in joy: "Time to chow down!" However, I soon realized the food belonged to the big conference across the hall. For us, they provided fruit, bagels and muffins. Which is fine, but since it was LUNCH TIME a little protein might have been nice. Fruit and bread does not qualify as plenty of food! "Plenty of food" requires protein!

But, I digress. While waiting for the valet to bring my van around with a few other women, sirens began blaring so loud we had to stop talking. On Tremont Street, I found myself in standstill traffic, so I called my mom to tell her I was on my way. After a few minutes I noticed the yellow tape around a large swath of the Common. Then I saw the police officers and the people with microphones blocking off Boylston Street, and I heard the loud whirring of a helicopter overhead.

I turned on the radio. A crane had collapsed minutes before, killing three people, flattening two cars while they sat in traffic on Boylston Street, the same strip I'd driven on four times just a few hours earlier. So, the focus group organizers weren't trying to kill me, but the hotel workers with their shoddy directions almost did. The eyewitness on the radio described one of the crushed cars as "a silver Honda of some kind." I hoped my mom wasn't listening. I drive a silver Honda.

When I got home I told my mom all about it, including the part about how I'd driven on that street multiple times a few hours before the accident. I told her all this because I am an incredibly insensitive daughter who likes to scare the bejesus out of her mother. The next time I have to go into Boston she'll probably refuse to babysit and throw herself in front of my van to stop me from leaving the house.

As she left she told me to be careful coming out of my house, because she'd parked Ava's stroller outside the door, at the bottom of the steps. Apparently parked strollers pose a real hazard, tripping people, sending them toppling head over feet, putting them in traction, paralyzing them for life. Apparently my mom has no confidence in my depth perception or ability to use my eyeballs and legs and brain all in synch. She believes that somehow, maybe, her warnings are magic. If she just says "Be careful," or "Take your time," or "Look out for the parked stroller!" then I will be OK.

This time, though, I didn't roll my eyes at her, seeing as how I'd just told her I nearly got flattened by a three-ton scaffolding and all. This time, I just smiled and said, "O.K."

And when my Ben told me he was going upstairs to put on his pajamas, like he does every afternoon that we aren't going outside, I told him to be careful. "Hold the railing!"

"I will mom," he moaned. I caught a glimpse of him rolling his eyes before he disappeared around the corner.

"Get used to it, kiddo," I yelled up to him. "I've been trained by the best."