And they're off....(in so many ways : )

Alright, this time I am really going.

We leave *early* in the morning, and by that I mean not long from now. Sadly all my late night packing-and-blogging has made it impossible for me to sleep even though I went to bed early so as to be ready. (Something, by the way, completely unlike me. The norm? Staying up late before a trip. Kind of like, um, now...)

I doubt I will be blogging from the island. Of course I hope to because I am addicted and how else will I find out what is going on with Ms Sizz and the Froggie, the Writing Mom, Industry Youknowwhat, Longing for no Division, Thrushbaby and of course The Nello. And the many others whose lives I follow like a serial novel, a comic strip, a soap opera? (You pick which is yours : )

(And now I feel bad that I mentioned some and not the others. Trust me I read yours too.)

Of course I'll be looking for a cyber-cafe. But if bychance I can't find one underwater (did I mention scuba diving?) I will see you back here in a bit. I hope. : )

Read more!

Ariel's out. Cinders is in.

Forget Arial. Little Big Girl now wants to be Cinderella.

And consequently, she wants to clean, clean, clean. Because that is what Cinderella does. (Can you tell we bought the movie?)

Perfect!, I thought, in my evil-Mommy way. I can use this to teach her how to clear her plate, pick up her toys and put her clothes in the hamper. We will leverage this to its best use!

No. What this means is, more big water mess all over the bathroom counter. It is really, really clean now. In a three-year old way.

Read more!

The angst comes out...

I had this very intense dream today.

Should I put this here? Probably not. And yet, I am going to.

First of all, I was napping with Baby. Little Big Girl was also passed out. The house was quiet, I was exhausted, Baby would sleep longer if I just stayed there. Well, enough justifications. I guess that is the perorgative of the stay at home; let everything else go to hell and you just take a nap.

I don't actually usually dream then.

In this case, first I was with my girls, and LBG's foot accidently bumped Baby, and we had to take her to the doctor to fix her eyelid, the top layer of skin of which was slowing peeling off.

And while there someone stole MY pants so I am standing there in my undies trying to tell the doctor what is wrong. And I'm not happy about it but I have to help the baby.

And we are in this tiny, tiny, little closet-like room, and the nurse at the door of the hospital was more like an old lady maitre de, and I wasn't very nice at first because I really wanted to see the doctor but we didn't have an appointment, and she threatened not to let us have help. So then I got nicer and she took us to that little room. And the doctor put some fancy doctor-tape on baby's eyelid and she was fine.

And then my pants came back and I was able to go home. (phew)

But then the weird part started. I was in a crowded porch, and a man sitting out there said, Have you noticed the change in the weather? And we all realized it was suddenly getting dark all around us. And then there were huge booms of lightening. And then I realized the top of the porch was also see-through, and because of the storm it was like looking up from underneath water, with flashes of lightening going through. And I said to the woman next to me: Well, you know what to do if it breaks through. What? she asked. Get the hell out, I said. And the next thing I knew, she was standing outside the porch waving at me, and I said Huh? And she said - Look, it has broken through; come on! come on! And I saw she was right; there was a huge crack in the glass in front of me, and the ceiling above. I hurried and got out, and we all started running. And the ground was like huge waves of snow, again with lightening shooting through, and all around us. It was very much like an avalanche, except instead of fast-moving, it was very slow moving so that we could run on top of it. As it moved behind us we could still make progress forward. And I got all the way across this huge field this way, almost to the end, and I saw my mom standing there. Just standing there. Not worrying about the waves and not quite in the safety zone. And then Baby woke up and woke me up and I had to figure out where I was.

Phew. I'm sure that has all kinds of meaning but I'm almost afraid to look.

Read more!

The Guy In the Basement

For awhile, in my younger days, I lived with some girlfriends in a rambling house in Denver.

I say rambling because it was one of those houses, built in the forties or so, that just had, as the old jeans commercial goes, a scosh more room. There were extra closets, and random hallways, and just a little bit of give.

For instance, my room was off the dining room. Why was there even a room off the dining room? I don’t know. But it had a bathroom, and a fair size closet. And if you went in there – and God knows why I did – you would find that to the right, at the end, you could turn left and double back. And then turn right again. And wander around and eventually come out the front hall closet. What the hell was up with that? I never knew.

Anyway, when we lived there, our landlord always rented the apartment in the basement to a guy. I don’t know why. Maybe only a guy would deal with that aesthetic. I was down there once, maybe, and it was – in every sense of the word – a basement apartment. Tiny windows at ground level high along the wall, a very low ceiling, nasty painted wood paneling. Possibly pipes hanging from the ceiling, I can’t remember. But clearly you were living in a basement.

Anyway, none of us paid much attention to the guy down there. First of all, he would rotate through. While I was there, there were at least three or four. Also, they had their own entrance, their own separate staircase (of course, it’s a rambling house), they left in and out through the backyard, and basically we never saw them. We just called them The Guy In The Basement.

And like I said, none of us paid much attention.

And then one evening, the power went out. I mean, really went out. It must have been fall or winter, because although we were all up, when the power cut out it was pitch black. And then, in the darkness, in a completely conversational tone of voice – no straining or emphasizing – this male voice from below us said, totally casually, “Is the power out up there?”

Oh My God. Even by the moonlight, as we looked at each other, you could see what we were all thinking: Oh shit. The Guy In The Basement has heard EVERY ONE of our conversations.

Here we were, four women in our twenties, each very much dating, angsting, debating, and arguing with each other now and again. Borrowing clothes, makeup, tampons. Discussing birth control. Assessing the men we knew. You know. Talking about everything that women talk about when there is no guy around. Basically, everything.

What a lesson the Guy In The Basement got. Or at least some serious insight. And I think it’s worth noting - none of them ever complained.

Eventually, I think I answered - in a completely conversational tone as if he were right next to me and not one level down: Uh, yes.

Do you guys have any candles or something? I don’t have anything.

My roommate E: Uh, sure. I’ll get you something.

And as she felt her way into the kitchen to find a candle for the guy, and met him somewhere on the back stairwell to do the handoff, the whispering began. Oh my god, did you hear that? Do you think he has heard everything we have ever said in this house? Oh my god of course he did. Did you know this? No, I didn’t know this. Well, somebody should have figured this out. Oh my god!

I would like to say that after that we were really paranoid and never spoke above a whisper and took all truly private conversations outside. But that would be a lie.

After the lights went on, and our lives continued, he became The Guy In The Basement again. Nameless, faceless, and privy to everything in our lives.

Read more!

Leaving on a jet plane again THANK GOD

I so have no right to complain.

I have been feeling completely out of sorts lately ever since I came back from metromegalopolis SoCal.

I'm sure - or at least *I* think - that it's totally reflected in this blog here. Funny? I don't think so. Lighthearted? Not hardly. Kind of whiney and annoying? Completely.

Maybe all those super-whiney posts didn't make it. (Or maybe they did.) But it is how I feel in my head. Just a little off-kilter.

And on Wednesday, THANK GOD, we are leaving again. At this point I don't care where we go. But lucky for us we are going on a real vacation, to someplace great and warm and beautiful and can you say the 50th state in the union? I don't think I can because it just doesn't seem right. I mean, how annoying can I be? Leaving on a vacation again and still complaining about the two hellishly long weeks in the middle? Or was it only a weeek and a half?

And to those of you who live in my little burg and read this site (my friends of the carbon-based variety : ), I'm sorry. Really I shouldn't complain. It is beautiful here in New Mexico and on top of this mesa and all that. So calm and peaceful. The weather's been fine. The kids have been healthy thank goodness and good. I don't know what's wrong with me.

I guess I have a couple weeks to figure it out.

(Eh, I'm not leaving yet. Knowing me I'll post any number of times before then. All of the annoying and whiney variety no doubt.)

Read more!

Baby loves the pens

Baby loves pens.

Love, loves, loves.

Loves the way the thing at the end clicks up and down. Loves taking the caps on and off. Loves trying to write with them, although she’s not clear on the relationship between the clicking and the caps, or the correct end, and actually being able to write, but still.

Yes, you can take them away from her. At the risk of your life. Or at least your eardrums or what’s left of them, because Baby knows what she wants.

So in addition to spit up on my shoulder and sometimes down my back (although she’s getting better about that, which just means I really won’t know if it’s down my back or not), snot on the back of my jeans because I can’t always find a Kleenex and sometimes that kid really needs a wipe, and don’t even ask me what my hands are diving into, with a wee little wipe in between me and the yuckiness, on a daily basis. Now I get little pen marks on everything I own. And LBG owns. And all of Baby’s clothes.

Sure, you can put the cap on or click that little thing off before you pick her up. If you remember. But keep in mind, she knows how they work. Sort of.

Read more!

How do you do it?

I have been working - and working - on a list of How To Stay At Home (and Not Go Insane) tips.

I might (perhaps) not be the best person to compile said list. Ahem.

So in that vain - even though I don't have the busiest blog in the world - I was wondering if anybody who stops by here has any particular little organizational tips, or household-child care-feeding everybody ideas, that they really like. It doesn't matter (to me) if you thought of it yourself or if you got it somewhere else. (Feel free to give attribution if you feel so inclined.) Just something that you really like or that helps you.

(For that matter, I am happy to hear input from Moms who also work outside the home but who have their own little tips on what helps them out. Surely they are fighting insanity on a regular basis. Just not of the isolation-mind numbing kind... : )

And I really don't mean, necessarily, things like: red wine! or: chocolate! (But feel free if that's your real take on what helps most. IE, warm baths...)

As an example, I have decided the whole key to being at home is to put a load of laundry in before you leave the house in the morning. Oh and also - leave the house every morning.

As I said, I have a whole list going. I've sprinkled it with things I've heard from friends which I may or may not do, but which sound like a good idea (Like: Make lunch at breakfast time). But before I post it, thought I'd ask for your great ideas.

Please send your helpful tip(s) to my email (and not just because I love email) at: cribceiling@yahoo.com

And look for the final list here! (Or should we make it an ongoing thing? Wait - I should start small. And see if anyone responds! Please do! : )

Read more!

Blustery days begin

Winter has officially arrived in northern New Mexico, or so it seems. We had a beautiful fall. Just yesterday we were out in Santa Fe in light sweaters. And earlier this week I took the girls to Ashley Pond, the little pond in the middle of downtown Los Alamos, to feed the ducks. Baby and I had on light sweaters and Little Big Girl per usual didn't even want the sweater. Feeding the ducks, running up and down on the hill around the pond, and mostly walking up the foot-high wall along the stair well up the hill, down the stairs, up the wall. All that exercise; I guess she doesn't need a sweater.

Today it is all different. To say it is blustery is a major understatement. The wind is blowing with big gusts; the sky is dark although it's mid-afternoon; and the wind seems to be spitting rain, at the house, the trees, the fence. The doors shake with the gusts.

From where I sit I can look out the window at the dark sky and watch the trees shake the few leaves they have left. Beyond is the forest, and even there the tall pines are swaying.

It is a quiet day as of now, because both girls are asleep. My husband is home because of the federal holiday, but not feeling well, so is also asleep.

Yeah me. A quiet house, with the wind, for the moment.

Read more!

And it's hardly Tivo's fault

There is only one bad thing about Tivo.

And that is, if you are me, you run a really good chance of burning an image of Elaine and Jerry and George right onto your televsion screen.

And why is that? Because if you are me, you take advantage of that wonderful feature of Tivo of stopping whatever show you watching, whenever you want. And because one of the few things you bother to Tivo is used Seinfelds, and you only watch shows you have bothered to Tivo, ergo if you have the tv on it is probably a Jerry. And so you utilize that functionality, and go do something else. And FORGET COMPLETELY ABOUT IT. And an hour or so later you wander back into the room, and there they are. George and Jerry and Elaine, all mid-sentence, all mid-farcical response, each mid-hilarious facial gesture caught by Tivo. All being seared in to the screen to be watched forever, over every football game and election converage and news hour that is ever displayed on that tv again.

Read more!

Stealing content? Or continuing a conversation?

(None of these links work. I don't know why. I had it mastered just yesterday. I will put the actual addresses below.)

I found two things on other blogs this week that really hit me. They are only partially related. First, from Mel at Actual Unretouched Photo:

“And then I tell her it's time for bed, even though I know she'll wake up and graduate from high school and enroll in a highly-regarded college and meet Mr. Right and move across the country. "One more time!" she pleads and I relent because I can't stop time, but I can try to memorize the curls on the back of her head while she reads. One more time.”

It’s times like these – posts like that – that make me stop, and see, and realize I just want to hold onto these moments forever, when my babies are just - like - this. And it helps me to appreciate it when I see them again, in the morning (or later tonight), and the whole crazy day of wrangling, dressing, feeding, raising, cajoling, teaching and getting them out the door starts again tomorrow.

And also this:

Suzanne at Mother in Chief wrote:

"But I'm grateful for my son. Having him has pushed me outside my comfort zone, only to realize that it's very comforting to be here after all. One of the parts of Andi's essay in the book touched a nerve with me. Perhaps deep down, I'm a teeny bit relieved to have a boy because girls become women and many become moms. And, in turn, struggle. She wrote:

We want our daughters to do everything our sons do, yet as mothers ourselves, we know the difficulties and the hard choices that they will have to make when they grow up and choose to mother--the career options that dwindle; the daily balancing act that exhausts; the kind of things our sons will never face, even as they become parents themselves. Perhaps it's easier to love our sons because there is no big secret, no truth we're withholding about the divided life of women. Perhaps we feel less conflicted about boys--love them more, believe they love us differently than our daughters do--because they will have such unconflicted, uncomplicated autonomy as men."

And she in turn was quoting from a book called It’s A Boy by Andrea J. Buchanon.

And I have a whole lot to say about this one (isn't it the theme of the whole blog?).

Do we lie to our daughters? If we tell them they "can do anything", is it just not true? Did our mothers, and the women of their generation, lie to us? Or perhaps was it the women in between, the women who were our mentors and teachers? Or did they all really believe it, believe in the possibilities? And is it only now that we find, it is just not true. What *will* we tell our own daughters about their possible paths in life?

The addresses without hotlinks:
http://melodee128.blogspot.com/
http://www.motherinchief.com/
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1580051456/104-4467649-1526325

Read more!

Oops. Maybe ABQ isn't that bad......

First of all, I just want to say, I noticed in my creepy big-brother statCounter account that someone from Albuquerque - OF COURSE - visited my site ON THE DAY I BITCHED ABOUT THEIR MOUNTAINS.

I don't think anyone from ABQ has been here, ever. And of course, on that day.

So I just want to say, even though that person will probably never be back (for no doubt unrelated reasons)(who knows how they even found this place), that I'm sorry about that. Everyone has their own landscape, their own geography, and often it matters to them, and who am I to say that one is just really, really ugly.

I think the same thing about the part of West Texas my husband hails from, but do I say that here? No. (I do say it to him, but not often. He knows.)

Apparently I have more geographical biases than I realized. From now on I'll just keep that kind of thing to myself. Who wants to go randomly blog-surfing and be unaccountably insulted?

Read more!

And a second sticky question

And another thing about those free address labels that come in the mail - why is it they don't arrive until AFTER you have purchased a bunch of them?

And I don't mean that as an Alanis Morisset-type of irony thing. It's happened too many times to be a coincidence. After moving to a new place, I've even been known to wait and wait and wait for some free ones, writing out my new address every time. And then I give in and order some, and within days of the purchased ones getting here, an avalanche of the free ones show up.

I think the address-label people sell your address. How ironic is that.

Or, what a bad business move. I never, ever buy a second set.

Read more!

Minor question

If you use the address labels that come for free in the mail, and you don't donate anything to the group that gave them to you, is that wrong?

And is that the exact question they want you to ask yourself, which is why they send them to you?

Read more!

Clever Little Big Girl

I looked up Disney Princesses to figure out how to spell - of all things - Snow White. (Two words. Hence no "one or two Ws" issues at all...)

Little Big Girl saw it come up on the computer and said: I want to play! I want to play! Let me use your computer Mommy! Let me! Let me! Let me! And on ad infinitum.

I said, No, sweetie. Mommy is busy right now. I just wanted to find out how to spell Snow White.

A moment later she came back. Mom! I need to see that Princess site again! I need to find out how to spell Jasmine!

(So yes, of course, as soon as the last post was up, she got to play with the Disney Princess site.)

(And, no, she cannot technically read. Much.)

Read more!

Princess story

Little Big Girl is solidly in the Princess / dressup / girly stage. Today she is wearing a beautiful green velvet dress, given with love to her by her cousin, which had to be a flower girls’ dress in a previous life.

She decided Baby needs to dress up too. So we put her in beautiful little baby dress; it has a raw silk pink bodice, orange velvet waistband and pocket, and pink silk skirt with lace overlay. Really, it is hip and stylish. And size Baby! Of course, it was given to us by a mother of boys. If you want cute clothes for your girls, befriend a mother of boys. They are DESPERATE and every birthday-holiday-random chance they get, they will buy a super cute girl thing.

The girls are playing Snow White, in which LBG throws herself onto the toy couch, and after crying out Where is my prince? Oh Baaaaaby, I need the prince to kiisssss me! Baby will stop what she is doing (emptying out a drawer, pulling items out of my purse, maybe playing with a toy), stand up, toddle over and plant one on her. LBG hops up, dances around, plays at something else for awhile (all along with running monologue), and then they play Snow White again.

Completely charming.

Read more!

What happened to Albuquerque?

New Mexico really is beautiful. I realized that again on our drive to Albuquerque. The mountains near Santa Fe are pretty, the sky is huge and a deep blue, and there are those mesas everywhere. There's just something about the place.

When I was in LA a couple weekends ago, I was chatting with one of my fellow alum who is now a partner at a large firm in NYC. And she said, You know, I always heard it is really beautiful in New Mexico and exceptional, and I always thought, what a load of crap. But then I went there, and - it's really true. I can see why it inspired so many artists.

And, you know, she's right. Before you see it, you really don't get it. And then you come here, and the place can suck you in, and it really is beautiful.

But there is one totally not beautiful thing about here. Well, there's a few - the high teen pregnancy rate, the insane DWI rate, the poverty - but I mean, in terms of the natural environment.

And I just have to say this and I know it is obnoxious, but what the hell is the deal with the things they call mountains in Albuquerque. If they are not the ugliest piece of natural scenary in the western United States, I don't know what is. It looks like God's own dump truck just scooped up a bunch of dirt and rocks and dumped it on the back side of the city. They're just - bad. Bad, bad, ugly piles of dumped-out dirt they call some mountains.

Now granted, I really was spoiled. I hail from Colorado, and there's some good mountains. All of them are pretty. They just are. And majestic. And all that. You've heard of America the Beautiful? Written in response to Colorado. So I'm just saying - I was a little spoiled. But man, those "mountains" in Albuquerque are ugly.

Thanks for letting me vent.

And if you don't believe me, here's some pics:

Mountains near Santa Fe
Beautiful.

Downtown Santa Fe street and sky
Just for fun.

Typical tourist photos in Santa Fe
Includes a sky shot. BTW I have no idea who these people are.

The insanely ugly "mountains" in Albuquerque
Really, this is just what they look like.

And a distance shot of the ugly mountains
BTW, this is their BEST possible view. You know, dusk and everything. I guess they don't look *as* nasty from this vantage point. But you never see this. Driving around ABQ - up close and all - you see the other shot.

And for the record, my baseline:
The Flatirons in Boulder
and
What the Boulder mountains look like up close
This is what they really look like when you're there. Now, take a look again at that first shot of Albuquerque. Bleeh. I told you. (I also have no idea who this person is. Best Google shot of Boulder mtns though.:)

(And for those who know Boulder, yes the pun is intended)

Read more!

Yeah. Whatever.

Well, my friend and commenter Colleen is completely right. I am in the post-vacation, small town, total doldrums.

It occurs to me I even miss the radio stations in southern California.

For something to do, I took my kids to the GROCERY STORE last week.

God, I'm not even funny any more. Which is usually my whole raison d'etre. (Forget the whole kids and dinner or whatever. Is anyone actuallly *laughing*? That's what I'm going for here. And everywhere else.)

Bleh.

Read more!

A visit with the Geegs

On Sunday, we loaded up the girls and went to Albuquerque to spend the afternoon with my mom, who was there for a writer's conference. (World famous mystery writer, Margaret Coel.)

Mom apologized on the phone for our two hour drive to Albuquerque. I said, the problem is not Albuquerque. The problem is here. It is far away from everything. So don't worry about it, I am THRILLED to drive there for the day. Seriously.

Anyway, she said the conference was great. She gave one of the talks, at a lunch. The actually really world famous mystery author Tony Hillerman was there too. And I realize I should ask Mom more about her work, because I know absolutely nothing else about that conference - who was there, what they did, why they had a meeting. How odd of me!

Anyway, we had high hopes of a Zoo or Aquarium outing, but realized that we'd better take advantage of our trip to the big city. So we got a new car seat (Baby has outgrown hers, so both girls move up a notch in the car seat musical chairs) and hit Target for things like bigger socks for LBG and shoes for Baby.

The girls LOVED seeing their "Gigi", and Baby, who won't go to anyone other than me and every once in awhile her Dad (okay, and the woman who plays with her every week), fairly leaped into her arms. Which really is very unusual. Little Big Girl was initially shy but was soon chatting Gigi's ear off with all kinds of interesting three-year old news. Such as:

LBG: (a prospro of nothing) The castle was closed, Gigi.
G: Oh?
Me: Um, she's talking about the It's a Small World castle at Disneyland. It was closed the day we went there.
G: Ah.

LBG: But there was a bathroom on the outside of the castle that was open.
G: Oh?
Me: Um, that's true. There was a bathroom on the outside of a castle wall at Disneyland.
G: Ah.

Eventually I let them parse their own words together. But it was great to see "the Geegs."

Read more!

A view and a snippet

I got this email and thought I'd share it (with permission). Every mom has so many different things they are dealing with. This gives some nice insight into another person's life. (And isn't that what this whole blogging thing is about?)

Also, I loved it because it just gives this little snippet of what life was like pre-babies for her, and I thought that was fun. It's so easy to forget.

I hope the surgery she mentions in this email went really, really well. (And if she updates me via email, I will let you know! : )

Hi Krisco,

I just wanted to introduce myself and send a quick 'hello'. I am a good friend of O.'s and she sent me the link to your blog. I live in Colorado and have 2 young sons - E1 (3 years) and E2 (3 months)and a fabulous hubby, E'. I am no longer working....geezo, did I really just say that? Hell, I'm working more now than I ever have in my life!

Anywho, I haven't had much chance to look at a lot of the website but I like what I see so far. It will be a great place for me to vent and we all need that. I often feel guilty when I get frustrated with my kids interrupting me while trying to get something important done. But...on the other hand, nothing is as important as them.

It is really crazy for me right now because I am taking care of the kids (full-time), completing my masters' degree online and building my own business...not to even mention all the housework. Also, my youngest has to have surgery on November 3rd so we are preparing for it. He (and E1) were born with a birth defect called Craniosynostosis. It is where the bones on the top of the head are prematurely fused together (no soft spot). They will cut his head open from ear to ear and cut out the bones on the top to allow enough room for movement of the plates as he grows. It is absolutely AWFUL...but the good news is that E1 had the same surgery at 2 1/2 months and now you cannot even tell that he ever had it. He is beautiful and completely healthy. We hope and pray that everything will go as well for E2.

As for how I know O. We've been friends for several years. We are scubadiving buddies - got certified together and went to Cozumel many times. We were roomies in Denver for a few years. I need to get to know P. (P. is O.'s new husband & a fave cousin of mine. - K) a little better but what I know so far is awesome. I am so happy for both of them.

Well, better stop babbling for now and I hear my baby. Thanks for sharing the blog and I'll try to post some items soon. Please let me know if you have any helpful hints on motherhood or how to get the most out of the blog.

Take good care,
JP

Read more!

He really should read this

Spousal (and my Mom) are both paranoid about the blog.

Yesterday, after a long day, Hubs said to me, sheepishly, So, what are you going to complain about me on the blog tonight?

Doh! If only they ever read it.

And so I said: Well, let's see. Today you drove two hours, to see my mom (although they get along great and most often they gang-up on me.); you changed a really poopy diaper voluntarily, in a store; we bought a new car seat, and you drove two hours home because I was too tired. Then you made sandwiches for the girls, gave them a bath, put one of them to bed, and helped pick up. (Makes me think - what did I do? I don't know. I'm sure it was something. But back to the topic...)

Hm, what AM I going to say?

How about, Thanks for a great day, honey.

Now if only he read the blog.

(Maybe I'll send him a link.)

Read more!

Anti-depressing revelations at the pool

Went to the pool today for Little Big Girl’s swim class. It was a new time for us; I forgot to sign her up again for her previous class time. But on the plus side, she still has the same teacher, and I get to meet some new mothers.

So I’m sitting by the side of the pool, trying to keep Baby from taking a dive fully clothed into the water (Sister’s in there, why can’t she be?), and one of the other mothers took it upon herself to introduce all of us moms to each other. Which is so great, because so often *I’m * that person. I think I’m getting tired. It was nice to have someone else do that for once.

In the meantime, we get to chatting. This is a later class than before, so most of these mothers are either working or working part time. And I have no idea how this came up, but one of them said: I don’t know any mom in this town who is not on anti-depressants, myself included.

Wow, I thought. I had no idea. Ah, I remember– we were comparing who was working, and how much. I was the only full-time stay-at-home. And I said, I love it. But also, I find it kind of hard sometimes too. And that was her response.

(Hm, I thought. Maybe that’s what I need! Well, I don’t mean to make light of such things. Although it did cross my mind. I also thought - maybe that’s why I still have that late-afternoon chocolate habit…)

Anyway, is there something about motherhood that makes people depressed? Is it the complete focus on other people? Or the corollary – no time to think about yourself, let alone about the things that (used to) matter to you? Maybe it is the massive hormone changes wrought about by bringing a new person into the world. (Of course, these were mothers of preschoolers and beyond…) Maybe they’re unrelated and it’s just life in these angst-ridden times?

I am curious about the connections, if any, and I really don’t know the answer.

Read more!

Dang those famous authors and their productivity

First of all, apparently, Maureen Dowd has written the book I'm writing. Really, I swear. I have been writing chapters and headings and concepts and paragraphs ALL IN MY HEAD for a year now, and damned if she doesn't, oh, you know, bother to actually write it down AND GET IT PUBLISHED.

I suck so far at this writing thing. Somehow the head-to-paper thing is tripping me up. Not to mention the whole publisher / agent / book deal thing I don't (yet) have going on. (Note the optimism there though! Or the deranged lack of being in touch with reality. Yikes.)

To be fair (to you, or to me, or to her, I don't know) I didn't really read the book or even a review. I read an EDITORIAL about the book (which was all negative, but I couldn't stop reading due to the topic....) which essentially said Maureen's book was about feminism and how maybe it's hard for smart women to get married. To which I say, Duh. (And also, Damn! I keep meaning to get up early and write this. Instead I stay up late. And read blogs. Stop being so interesting Internet World! Stop it! It's all your fault. That, and I have no self-control.)

Of course, in the Opinion, this far-righter said, it's all women's fault, they blamed men too much, no one wants to marry a feminist, nah nah nah. (I'm paraphrasing somewhat.)

Now, I'm quoting from memory from this morning (a lifetime ago in Mommy-brain time), regarding an opinion in the paper about a book - like a wordy game of telephone - so I could have some of this wrong. But it certainly sounds like my general topic. You know - we had no idea what we were getting into, this whole career-marriage-kids-plan a life thing (at least I didn't); there were a lot of lies in feminism (a movement I had the luxury of disliking); having kids is hard (have them when you're young!); and no, you just cannot have it all. You can see some of these theories in my early Crib Ceiling posts and descriptions, thats for sure. (Um, hello? The theme of this whole thing, theoretically? But now I just talk about me?)

(And BTW I also have all these theories about men and dating and what the sixties-ideas did to them. And I haven't even BEGUN on those but trust me I will someday. And if Ms. Dowd writes THAT BOOK next time, well, we'll know something is up.... : )

Well, this rant is over. Don't read her book, read mine. It just may be awhile. So, what the hell, go ahead and read hers first. Just let me know what it's like, I probably won't have time to read it.

I'm too busy with that whole kids-husband-housewifery thing I complain (drool) about all the time.

Read more!

A blogging pentathalon

Spousal went to play poker, and so what do I do? Blog all night. All those weeks of no (reliable) internet and a week of travel - I have been out of touch. So went out and about roaming, all those sites I missed, and some new ones I found.

I had so much to do here. Bills, piled up mail, picking up. The house was spotless when we came home - of course, the Hubs had a week and no children to re-mess things up, but still - and it took us less than ten minutes to destroy his handiwork. Unload two suitcases, a backpack and a princess wheely bag - I guess that makes three suitcases - plus two kids who forgot, in a week, what their toys look like and so have to pull them each out one by one out just to see - and it was a clothes / toy / paper extravaganza I have yet to shovel my way out of. And let's not mention the laundry. Which Spousal was too sick to do but which continuted to build up, in two states, anyway.

But did I do that? No.

A friend of mine said the other day (as I called her on my two-hour drive home from the airport): Blogs. Huh. I just don't get it. It's just people's opinions, right?

Yes, right. Just people's opinions. This insanely addictive ability to go into ANYONE's home (or so it seems) and read their diary sitting open on their kitchen table, opinions and all. (A thousand points of light (excuse the reference, if you are so inclined), or make that hundreds of thousands, and they all have opinions.) I don't know what we did without blogs before but, thankfully, and belatedly, I am post-blog now. Laundry be damned.

Read more!

And now....we're *here*

We survived the trip back to the sticks and are once again esconced on the moutaintop, having left the thriving metromegalopolis that is Southern California.

We took the opportunity while there to do a little shoe shopping for the girls. Not that that is so exciting, but as I’ve complained any number of times here (blog), there is no shopping here (Los Alamos). (So, in fact, for me, it WAS exciting!! : )

I took the opportunity to go to…Marshalls. Again, not that exciting, but works for kids shoes.

And of course Little Big Girl took the opportunity to fall in love with her first pair of insanely overpriced but super stylish imported Italian leather boots.

At 69.99, half off the regular price…still ridiculous for a three year old’s shoes. They were red and had a zipper on the inside and a sewn-on leather pattern. Completely hipster-ish. So we learn Little Big Girl has good taste.

I was spared the indignity of being frugal mom and denying LBG her first Italian fashion love – come on, $70 for shoes she’ll wear about a week (ok, in LBG’s case, this whole winter…huh, maybe that would have been worth it…but at any rate) - Marshall’s did not have her size. Phew.

In the meantime, now that we are home, Baby cannot stop wearing the pink hiking boots we got for LBG. She got new shoes too, but sister’s are so much more interesting. So she schlumps around in them, wearing them with everything, including the pink sparkle dress-up skirt she had on yesterday, with the fireman’s hat, the butterfly wings, and the swim ring she had around her waist. Don’t ask me how she got all of these items on, but clearly she found the picks of the house.

And that’s the update for now.

Read more!

BTW, I'm still here

But leaving soon.

This seems to be an extended vacation. Only 8 days, but still. The first segment was cousins-play and Disneyland. (Did I mention Disneyland? Disneyland! I will have to give an update…) The second phase was Mom Goes To Reunion (and doesn’t feel nearly as old or dowdy-ish as she thought she would), and the third phase was What The Heck, We’re Here, Let’s Stay Through Halloween. And An Extra Day So We Don’t Go Home Tired.

(Ah, the joys of being a stay at home mom; you can impinge on your relatives for DAYS on end!)

I suspect my sister is getting really ready for us to go home.

But she, and her husband and kids, have been great hosts. (I hope it helped that I cooked three of the meals while here, a feat unheard of in my earlier years…) And the kids have had an incredible time playing together.

Little Big Girl will find it insanely boring back at our house, with only mom and Baby to entertain her during the day. Where are the dress up clothes? The THREE cousins, one of each age (younger, just older, and a really big girl of eight)? The mini tramp in the yard, the two dogs, the bazillion toys?

Yesterday Little Big Girl said, I want to stay here *forever* (and the way she says “forever” is so sweet – with such three-year-old intensity.) Do you like it here? I asked. Uh huh, I like the toys, she said, without missing a beat.

I suspect she likes more than that, but we'll leave it at that for now. Travel day tomorrow - more no lap for the lap child (see the post at the beginning of this vacation, if that made no sense to you) and be blogging again tomorrow, hopefully. Perhaps an update on Disneyland, stay tuned. (The sum: Pooh! And Arial! And Pooh! And Tiger! Did I mention Pooh?!)

Read more!