Who You Looking For?

Various blogs often take a moment to comment on the bizarre things people Google that lead them to their site - usually it is embarassing or just totally weird, and of course, it serves as a great lesson to me when I am searching for something odd that if I click on the wrong site, they will totally know my search terms. I feel all exposed like people will be able to track back to me and know that I'm interested in jockey hamsters or whatever. Thank God that part of it is still anonymous. Anyway, ever hopeful that I will have this wonderful source of endless entertainment and blog fodder, I checked out my search terms. Guess what I got? Nada. A few terms that were pretty much exact wordings of titles I've written (so totally NOT funny, obviously), and these:

how much money does pablum make?
(unfortunately, pablum makes no money, my friend. unless you are a journalist in which case it can pay fairly well I believe)

metaphor cankles commercial
this? Is awesome. Don't know what kind of ad are selling metephorical cankles, but I want to see it. I'm curious who might possibly be the intended market for cankles, metaphorical or not. I'm also totally interested in how googling this led here.

but regardless of the wonder that is the cankle (not to be confused with the thnee), my search terms are just sad. Get out there are Google some crazy shit, yo! just make sure it leads back here because I'm in the mood for some free post material.

Wordless Wednesday

This is an old picture, but it is just so cute to have all three in the tub together - and amazing to me that everyone is now old enough (and stable enough) to be sitting in the tub together. no one gets pushed over or knocked down or loses body control and flops over; mah babies are growin up!
Also, I am totally cheaping out on this entry because I just read over 60 blog entires from all the other people I follow, while trying to watch Top Chef, and thinking about the magazine I want to read as well as possibly squeezing in a few more games of Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook before bed, and my husband likes it when the house is actually sort of clean so maybe I'll have to put some dishes away too, but at least I vacuumed so there, and I have to figure out if I'm actually going to wear my purple wig to Izzy's preschool Halloween party tomorrow cause I need a lot of extra makeup to pull it off but it also kind of itches so if I take it off I'll look totally crazy and also my hair will be smushed, and oops I didn't wash it for like three days so I should probably go do that tonight too. So see? I'm busy.

Life Has A Soundtrack

I am not a music person. Make no mistake, I LOVE music. I am a dancer, and so when a song speaks to me it truly resonates within every cell of my body. But music itself is not my passion. I cannot hear two notes of a song and know what it is and the artist. Frankly, I barely know even my favorite artists, and I can pretty much never name the song. Lyrics, I know, and of course, how a song makes me move. I know how to capture the feeling of a song within myself, but I will never be the person you go to for a great song choice, or to discover new bands; that person who has an encyclopedic knowledge of all things music. My brain just doesn't work that way. And honestly, this may be one of the bigger regrets in my life. Because there is very little that can inspire and move us like music. Music helps us recall the past. Music makes us forever remember the present. Nothing else can evoke emotion so swiftly, so certainly, and so easily as music. A classic scene in a movie? Probably has a great score behind it. That key moment in your life? Probably has a song that brings you back to that moment. There is a reason we all remember the song we danced to at our 6th grade dance/the prom/our wedding. Music can bring back the feelings you had the first time you heard them, and they can give you the emotions of the moment as well. And for this reason I have always wished I was more of a music savant. Is there anything better than nailing that perfect workout tune as you pump away on the elliptical? Putting your most melancholy breakup song on repeat during a particularly sharp heartache? Finding the ideal anthem for driving fast with the windows down? Life has a soundtrack. And I've always been a little jealous of those of us lucky enough to really be in touch with what theirs is.

written while listening to Slow Dancing In a Burning Room : John Mayer, Continuum

For Those Dogs Who Like To Clean Up After Themselves

On my way through Target today (which was a longer trip than usual given the fact that my children literally touched every. single. thing. in the store) we passed down the pet aisle and I noticed this choice of pooper scoopers:

On the left you can see the scooper that is marked "for dogs of all sizes." On the right, you can see the scooper that is "for small dogs" only. Does anything about this strike you as odd? Like perhaps the fact that while dogs may vary greatly in size the owners do not? Are small dogs owned by tiny little people or do the manufacturers just figure that if since they bend over so much to pat their wee little dogs they wouldn't mind hunching over to also scoop the poop? I'm thinking that if I have to bend over that far to use a fancy scooper, I can just as easily do without the scooper. Isn't the purpose of a scooper (beyond removing that fun possibility of actually touching the poop) to make it easier to just pick it up? The size of teh dog doesn't really enter into that at all in my mind - large dogs' poop is not harder to reach than little dogs'. These should be labeled "for all dog owners" and "for little people dog owners." And it may not be PC, but I'd love to see a label like that!

Saturday Say What Sing Along Edition

So, this week I thought I would regale you with the lyrics of one of the songs isabelle likes to sing. much of her repetoir is the classics - Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Old MacDonald, etc, but sometimes she likes to sing "the Lava Girl song." As you may or may not know, lava Girl is the character in a not so great movie by Robert Rodgriguez that Izzy absolutely loves. however, there is no actual song in this movie. So she makes up lyrics and I repeat them back and we sing these new songs that way for as long as I can stand it (they can go on quite some time). Feel free to sing along to any tune you wish - use a monotone if you wish to maintain the integrity and mood of the original version.

Lava Girl Song (lyrics by Isabelle Johnson, as transcribed by me, typos or strange spellings are to maintain the unique pronunciation of the artist, unless it says "teh")

Lava Girl went out with keys in her pocket
and she tried them in the lock
but they didn't fit
cause it was too big
so she got another key
it was a very small one
and it fit very perfect
so she went in and put the keys on the counter
but she couldn't find them later
cause Shark Boy put them in his room
and he locked it
cause he didn't like her
so she went to dance class
with her Lava mommy
and then she died in a volvano

Shark boy went to get some groceries with his mommy
his Shark Boy mommy
and he was a little baby yesterday
and then he growed up
and then he pet the kitty
and it was very wet, she took a shower
a kitty shower

Shark Boy went to get his water bottle
and it had a Shark boy face
and then he got hot
like a very big hot dog
a giant hot dog
and then it squash him
very him very hard
and then it squirt him with orange juice water
and then he dried his towel
and put his new suit on
his green suit on
that has Shark Boy on it
because he doesn't like the purple one
but Lava Girl doos
he liked it yesterday
but he didn't like it this time
and he didn't do something
he just went to the store
to buy some yogurt
and then he eat it all gone.

future grammy winner, no?

also said this week:

to me when I had my back to her, feeding her brother, with an accompanying pat on my rear: "What is this big butt doing here?"

also to me, when I asked if she needed help eating: "I don't need help because I'm a big girl. And you're a big fat mommy." pause pause "I mean a big fat LADY."

guess I need to stop alking about my weight gain around her.

and finally:

Izzy: "we want crackers and smoothie...and chocolate because we've been good."
me: "well, you're quite the little manipulator aren't you?"
Izzy: "Yes. I. Am.

At Least I Know I'll Never Be On Hoarders

I hate clutter (this is where my husband rolls his eyes and thinks, yeah right). Clutter makes me feel twitchy and uncomfortable and anxious. I like a tidy house. When my house is neat and tidy and everything is put away I feel such a sense of release - I can literally feel tension seeping out of my body after I clean (this is where he wonders how I would know since I never really do any cleaning). I am even willing to actually do the work to put everything away (my husband is now yelling at the computer screen "then why does a load of laundry take a week, you LIAR!)- assuming there is a place to put it. Here lies the slippery slope down which I can not venture, resulting in my house always being a pigsty: there is not enough storage for all our junk. And what storage we do have is certainly not organized, given the number of people going in and out of it, getting things, not having time to really put them away properly so just throwing them in, making it a mess that I never find the time to get to and then we get a gift or buy something new and I don't know where it goes so it just gets chucked in somewhere and oh my god where does it end eveything is messy and unfolded and I'm going to scream. Seriously. My heart is pounding and my level of stress ratcheted up from about 2 to 11 just typing that sentence. And because I do not thrive on stress or drama or tension I make like an ostrich and refuse to see the problems. Tra la la, laundry that has been in the dryer for a week is no problem because if I get it out and fold it nicely and then have to see the over stuffed and/or haphazard drawers rearranged by toddlers I will start to hyperventilate. Fa la la, thank you so much for your generousity but really, stop giving us gifts because our closets are full and they are just going to sit collecting dust on top of the refrigerator where I threw it to get it off the counter. I thought I had untaken a massive cleansing of stuff and junk and miscellany before we moved. That was before I realized that while our new house is bigger, it is even shorter on storage. I remember unpacking and organizing and thinking "this if great. this closet is so nice and neat and I can get in and out so easily, and WTF - where did THAT box come from, holy hell, there are three more, where is all this crap going to go?" Yes, we have boxes still unpacked. Yes, there is a good chance I may just chuck it all if they continue to go unpacked because obviously we don't really need that stuff. There is always that argument that you can't just get rid of things without going through it because you may lose something you need - but honestly? If I don't know I have it, or I don't know where it is when I need it, is it really that bg a loss? We have one box of my hubsand's memorabilia (mine is all still with my parents and it will stay there forever if I can help it), and it is clearly marked so I can manage to cleanse without the need to sort and not accidentally purge anything irreplaceable. I have two very different sides - the consumerist shopaholic and the minimalist organization freak, and these facets do not mesh well. Add in lazy with a fear of confrontation (yes, I consider dealing with your own neuroses and attempting to tackle unpleasant chores confrontation) and you end up with a messy house. I realize that saving things for possible future use is economical, but if I never manage to sort the hand me down baby clothes before the baby has outgrown them, is there really a point in saving them? And what about all the clothes that everyone has outgrown - I may be saving them "just in case," but really, I'm keeping them because I can't bear to let them go. Clothes that I loved so much when I first saw them, with so much wear left in them, are hard to part with. But I have buckets and buckets and drawers (that get explored and "refolded" by children, not neatly) filling up space I could be using for something else.
But even if I manage to solve my long term storage issues, there is still the problem of the daily clutter that builds up in a house with three kids. Who wants to run upstairs for a sweater (and then again for this kid. and the other kid. and the other other kid) everytime it gets a little chilly? Who wants to run upstairs for a pair (or 4) of shoes before every trip out of the house? no one. So you keep some downstairs, by the door where they are convenient. And in the way. and taking up space that you could use for your laundry detergent or brooms or a thousand other things that have no place and instead just sit randomly atop any surface that happened to be empty at the time. And after awhile, those random surfaces become "where the dustpan goes," and the house just gets sloppy and slovenly and you stop even seeing the mess. I seriously can't live like this. I cannot continue just not cleaning my house properly because of all the stuff in the way. It may be wasteful to get rid of things I already have but don't use, and less efficient to only have one of everything and have to move it from room to room or never buy new products until the old ones are truly all used up, but I just cannot live with having stuff everywhere. Drawers full of half filled notebooks? Really? Stacks of sheets or pillowcases I will never ever use? No. I do not need these things when it means that my counters end up holding everything we use on a regular basis because they is nowhere else to put them. Things may not always be IN their place, but they at least need to HAVE a place. Because on the rare occasions I do clean, I don't want that to mean I just straightened up the piles.

So, Now I Guess I Have To Keep Posting, Huh?

After yesterday's vow to post almost everyday, I am back and ready to share...nothing. I've got nothing, folks. I like to use this blog to share my opinions on topics that may or may not be relevant to various goings on, tell stories about my family/life/kids, or work through things I'm struggling with. But right now the biggest thing I'm struggling with is my weight/inability to stop putting food into my face, as well as the whole basic issue of how to do it all and really have your life together that all moms face. And I just can't find the right way to approach these topics. I tend to come at discussing myself from a point of self deprecation - yeah I may be a lazy glutton, but I can joke about it so that you think maybe at least my standards are higher. Haha, I'm a failure at all the things I think I should be doing, so funny right? No, not really, but laughing about it at least means we are laughing together, and of course, having the perfect life and keeping all the balls in the air is never all that realistic for anyone - we all think we should be doing more. But the fact is that I see massive room for improvement, and I would like to set goals for achieving that improvement, which is where I hit the stumbling block with writing. And it may sound stupid, but honestly, not knowing how to go about sharing my attempts at self imrpovement is in some ways derailing those attempts. Feeling all self confident and talking to yourself in affirmations is wonderful and useful and awesome - but also? Booooring! No one wants to read about how great I am and about how fabulous I feel because I can turn down a cookie or whatever. That is not fun to read. It isn't really fun to write. It is fun to laugh and joke about horking cake and sitting on your ass reading blogs all day, and it is fun to read about because you either think a) hey, this chick is way more pathetic than me, I think i'll celebrate with pie, or b) yay, I'm not alone in my sloth, whoop whoop! The blogs out there about health and fitness and hey look at me, how great I am keeping it all together and here are the healthy foods I eat and the exercises that give me my tiny perky little bottom, well those I don't enjoy reading so much. I definitely think there is a huge culture in the blogosphere that celebrates lowering your standards (even if just jokingly on twitter or as exagerration on a blog)- about just relaxing and enjoying your wine or candy or butter or whatever. Hey we all work hard, we deserve to relax and let it all hang out at the end of the day. And I really love that attitude, and I really love that in a tiny way because of these blogs and tweets and whatnot I am sort of part of a community. I can tweet or post about the box of cookies I just ate and people respond with support and confessions of their own. It is reassuring, but also sort of validating of the behavior I want to change. The problem comes with my total inability to lie - whereas other people may be joking about not showering for three days or eating an entire turkey, but if I say those things? I actually REALLY DID THEM. Yeah. Brings new meaning to my tweet yesterday where I said I ate 3 cucumbers in one sitting, doesn't it? I know that in order to really change my lifestyle I will have to really change my attitude towards food and exercise, but I don't like the fact that by doing so I will also sort of lose what is an easy source of amusement and camraderie for me. So I am struggling with finding a way to approach all of this: sharing my journey (ooh, gag, that was new agey) and search for betterment (if I'm going all self help with my vocabulary I'm doing it up, wheee) without making you dear readers want to puke. I certainly don't want to come across as though I feel I'm suddenly superior and offering advice on how to live your life better (be like me! I rock. oh wait, you probably know I have no clue what I'm doing), but I also don't want to turn into some Stuart Smalley either. After all, he may have been funny, be he wasn't in on the joke. Hopefully Ican find the right angle to come at this whole idea so tha tyou will continue to read but I will also manage to change the aspects of my attitude that need changing. It will be a marriage between what I want the real world to think (that I'm that super mom who has everything organized in her spotless house, kids fed with perfectly healthy balanced home cooked organic meals, all while looking like I stepped out of a fashion magazine even though I never spend more than $10 for anything), and what you really know to be the truth (that I am NOT. Those. Things). Because I do want to get my shit together. But I don't want to run out of interesting things to say. And I refuse to start making things up. I guess worse case I'll just bribe my kids to be funnier.


note: This is what is known as "stream of conciousness" writing. Not that I'm really applying any sort of literary tools here. But I did just sit down with my laptop and start typing, so if this entry meanders all over and makes no sense, well, that's because I didn't really know where I was going when I started, and now that I've finished I am so not going back and trying to wrangle this mess into making sense. Not even to catch all the times I left 'i' uncapitalized, or used my new favorite word 'teh' instead of the. So there.

Re-Committed

So, I had this great idea to write some vows and do it all up like a commitment ceeremony, but, um, yeah. that's just probably not going to happen. So instead I will just say that I feel as though I have been slacking on my blogging here (and on my other blog, which I've posted on like, 10 times in the past 5 months. Gah!), and that I am recommitting myself to posting more often. I really enjoyed doing a post a day for the whole month of August, and it seems that I need that type of pressure because now that I have loosened my deadlines I'm just not posting at all. So as it stands right now, I'm going to try and go back to a five day a week posting schedule - probably weekdays, but there will of course be the occassional Saturday Say What or Sunday Snaps as well. Now, having said that, my post for today is on Lawrencing Around. Cause I have tapped my creativity for today and I thought telling you all about my favorite makeup products fit better on that blog.

I Blog Therefore I Am

This week a blogger I follow asked (per a question posed on Twitter) about the differences (if indeed there are any) between a writer and a blogger. And there have been interesting arguments on both sides of the issue, but in my opinion the differences are simple. (I will preface by saying that the blogs out there which are primarily involved with giveaways, product reviews and sponsorship do not enter into my discussion - personally, I think those need a new term, as they are not "web logs" but rather a portal for a new type of marketing.) The difference is this: writers engage you. Anyone can sit at a computer and hack away at the keys, talking about themselves (isn't that everyone's favorite topic), but not everyone can do it in such a way that other people actually want to read it. In many ways it compares to writing a novel that sits in the closet and writing one that gets published. If you are literate, you can sit down with a notebook or laptop and string words together to tell a story. But is it a story anyone wants to read? Does it entice the reader; leave them breathless and invigorated and rushing toward the finish? When they reach the conclusion are their eyes or minds or hearts opened? Just because you write, does not make you a writer, and just writing a blog does not limit you to being a "blogger." It is easy to talk about yourself, your worries/anxieties/hopes. It is easy to sit down each day and type out a play by play of what happened. Danctive for breakfast, threw in a load of laundry, trip to Target, etc. We have all read blogs like this. Once. It is another challenge altogether to write about your daily routine in a way that leaves people wanting more. To create a blog where you not only learn what happened today, but can't wait to hear about tomorrow. I do not blog to participate in giveaways, or win free merchandise. I aspire to be a writer. I struggle with writing about my mundane existence in a way that invites people to read and return. To tell my stories, which are ordinary and commonplace, in a way that is extraordinary and unique. And sometimes I think I achieve that. Most days I am simply a blogger, chronicling the story of my family online for anyone who may find it. And often I feel like on those days I have failed a bit, that I'm not doing my story and my family justice because I was too tired or preoccupied to tell my story in a way that would engage the outside world. But I keep trying. because today perhaps you see me as only a blogger. but I hope that tomorrow, you will see me as a writer. But whatever title you give me, I just hope you come along for the read.

Saturday Say What

To the kitty we had just brought home: "Come here, my sweetie. Come to Izzy."

"I say please because I'm all grown up."

To my parents and aunt who were all gathered around upstairs saying goodnight to all the kids: "What are all you old people doing up here?"

Patting my father on the head as he hooked her seatbelt: "good boy"

Chasing the kitty: "come here Pixie, we're nice kids."

Recipe For Tired Mommy

Are you having trouble with your rested, happy Mommy? Feeling as though her general cheeriness and patience are wearing you down? Well here is a tried and true recipe for Tired Mommy*, guaranteed to give you a tired, lagging, slug of a Mother in just one night. Simple ingredients that are always at hand make this recipe a no brianer for anyone in need of the special Tired Mommy experience. For all skill levels.

Start with one, slightly used, but generally cheerful and rested Mommy

Add a head full of mucus (exact amounts may vary, but a general guideline would be a metric ton) - being careful to apply in such a way that Mommy can never breathe clearly, or go more than 30 seconds without coughing

Slowly fold in one snoring Daddy (may be substituted with any irritating, repetitive noise depending on season)

Add a pinch of random cryinng baby - must have no clearly determined problems, ie, hunger, full diaper, and instead must be awake and crying for no apparent reason

Chill overnight (must be cold enough to ensure that even with extra clothes Mommy is never comfortable)

Awaken 15 minutes before Mommy's preferred time of conciousness


*this recipe can also be used to create Cranky Mommy. Part of the fun is never quite knowing the end results.

Check It, Somebody Likes Me!

Jessica over at Mental Vomit has awarded me the Honest Scrap award for being a blogger that she enjoys and maybe even respects. Wow, who knew my blathering on could actually affect others positively? Anyway, I want to say a big THANK YOU to her for reading and thinking I'm worth a shout out on her blog. And per the rules (see below) I'm going to continue passing on the love. The 10 bloggers who I feel most deserve this award:

Sarah at Life at 45 Degrees

Sarah at Harry Times...All Jacked Up

Maureen at The Daily Snark

Lesley at Um..what

Jessica at Mommas Gone City

Amy at SnarkyMommy

Rita at Fighting Off Frumpy

Natasha at Exile on Mom Street

Stephanie at Mommish

Megan at Undomestic Diva

As for 10 brutally honest things about myself, hmmm, here goes:

1) I am completely inept at small talk. I always share too much personal info.

2) When speaking to people I have to conciously think about making eye contact or else I won't. And then I have to remember to glance away occassionally so I don't freak them out with an intense stare. I'm not sure I ever do it right.

3) I think I may have mild social anxiety (see above)

4) I used to take pride in seeing how many days I could go without leaving the house.

5) I have no friends outside of the computer.

6) The one time I tried to throw a birthday party for my daughter, no one came.

7) I am terrified my kids will experience the rejection and disappointment I have.

8) I worry the real reason I want to have more kids is so I will have people to love me.

9) I am completely addicted to TV. I can easily watch 16 hours at a time.

10) I'm really sick right now, and this is the best I can come up with for today's entry.

The rules:

*Say thank you and give a link to the presenter of the award

*Share “10 Honest Things” about myself

*Present the award to 10 other bloggers whose blogs I find brilliant in content and/or design or to those who have encouraged me

*Be sure to tell the 10 bloggers chosen that you are giving them the Honest Scrap award and provide the guidelines for them

Pixie And Poppy

Meet the two newest members of our family:

Pixie

Poppy

Both are the sweetest, friendliest girls who love attention and getting pets. Neither is phased by the kids racing around, and right now they are busy exploring their new house and each other. It is weird to have cats here that aren't my Xander and Iris, but so nice to have little furry critters to cuddle. Last night I got to sleep with my arms around a warm, purring body, and it felt so wonderful.

by the way, they are also WAY more beautiful than these photos. But they are so eager for attention that I can't get close without them running over to me so I had to get stealth shots.

Saturday Say Something

So, I have had quite a few requests lately for more Saturday Say What, and basically all I have to say is that you are speaking to the wrong person. I merely report the quotes, I don't speak 'em. So if you are suffereing from the recent lack of adorable sayings, you really need to talk to the lady herself. It's not that she hasn't been funny lately - she is as hilarious as ever. But she's giving me less in terms of one liners - the funny has lately been all in tone and context and expression. There has been nothing I can easily share a la blog - long expositional stories about how she looked and what we were doing at the time kind of ruin the joke. Like how she will repeat the lessons and admonitions we give her to Jack (for example - it's not my job to find your lost toys, if you want them you need to keep better track of them). Not especially funny on its own, but coming out of the mouth of a 3 year old talking to a 2 year old, pretty cute. Also funny is the way she oh so subtlely reminds me how she likes candy or popcorn whenever we pass a display at the store. She never comes right out and asks me to buy her candy, but she will mention "I like candy" about a hundred times, all while glancing up at me with a little angelic smile and eyes that arae calculating whether or not her clever ploy is reeling me in. So far, no dice. She has also lately been playing with her baby dolls a little, and apparently I spend a lot of time remarking on how big Sophie is getting because yesterday Izzy asked me: "isn't my baby getting big? Do you want to hold her? She's making me all hot and sweaty." Which of course is funny on its own, but even more so once you know that I often have to put Sophie down because she makes me too hot and so this is pretty much a direct quote from me. I guess I better watch what I say.

yesterday after I told Izzy she was getting so big: "I know I know. I'm sorry I keep growing up."

Me too, little girl.

Best. Laugh. Ever

your moment of zen for today.

My Kids Are My Favorite

The latest discussion on Momversation is about playing favorites. And this is sort of interesting for me that it has come up now, because for a while I have been wanting to talk about this very subject. But it is such a tricky topic to approach because it is hard to really get your feelings across in terms of specifics without sounding like you do actually prefer on child over the others(especially putting it out there on the internet where your kids can possibly see it years later). I will say that I firmly and definitively love each of my children equally. I love each of them more than anyone in the world, and that can never change -nor will another person ever come in a close second to my kids. But I will also honestly say that sometimes I say that Sophie is my favorite. It is always said in a lighthearted, teasing way, since it isn't really true, and I never ever say it in earshot of my other kids. But while I don't actually love Sophie more, the truth is that I feel a different bond with her than I do with my other children. It is hard to explain because it isn't stronger or more meaningful, but it is different in a very tangible way.

Isabelle is my oldest. She is my first baby, my first girl, and the person who changed my life more than any other. She looks just like me, and she is so wonderful and smart and funny - she makes me laugh a hundred times a day with her funny little comments and looks and her crafty little manipulations that she is already trying to pull on everyone. She is so amazing and special, and I could not imagine my life without her. But she is not a cuddly child. She does not want to sit on my lap or hug or snuggle. She will squirm away when I try to play with her hair or scratch her back, she never wants to tell me about her day or confide in me, and in some ways I am always left wanting more. A little more affection, a little more dependence on me, at least for a little while longer.

Jackson is my boy. He is the cuddly, giggly baby I was waiting for. The first night after he was born, he kept waking up crying, and I finally realized that he just wanted to be with me, so that first night he slept in my arms in the hospital bed. He is so sweet, and so sensitive, and he can really be a momma's boy - coming over to sit in my lap with a book or a toy. He is quirky and funny, and such a character. But he is also stubborn, and can be a whiner with a short fuse temper. He frustrates me more than any of my other children at this stage in the game.

And then there is Sophie. I don't know if it is because she is the baby and so I have approached her every milestone with a sense of holding dearly to the memories for they may be my last. I don't know if it is because, for the first 6 months I was the only person in her life. All I know is that there is a very real and very special bond between us. Something that seems to go beyond that of mother and child. She is the only one of my children who consistently lights up with joy when I walk into a room. No matter how long I have been gone, she will squeal and begin worming her way over to me as fast as she can. I am allowed to leave the room, but if I come back in without speaking to her or picking her up, she will cry. It is the only thing she will cry about other than hunger, pain or needing a diaper change. When I hug my other children it is with the sense that I have to squeeze as tightly as I can because soon they will break free and go back to the business of being children, but when I hug Sophie it feels like she would be happy to stay with me forever. Of course this will most likely all change as she gets older and craves more independence and the magic of mommy wears off in the face of reality and discpline. And perhaps it is only the wonder of the last baby - of knowing that this may be the last tiny body you get to hold close to you and call your own. Whatever the cause, and whatever the outcome, I am forever grateful for all of my children. Each of whom I love like no other, and who have hanged my life more profoundly and more positively, than I ever could have dreamed. You are my favorite.

I Don't Know Who You Are, But Clearly You Are An Imposter

Last night I went to sleep, a perfectly normal procrastinator, hell bent on doing only the barest minimum of housework so that my husband doesn't leave me or my children get taken away by child services. This morning I woke up with some crazy fire lit under my ass, and I determinedly went about clenaing the house. The WHOLE house. And I actually did it. There was no laying about at naptime, relaxing with magazines and the internet. There was no getting distracted by children, or scrubbing away at one room and calling it good. I WORKED. I did the laundry - all the way through - IN ONE DAY! washed, dried, folded and out away in teh correct drawers, ALL IN ONE DAY! I believe my previous speed record for this is about three days, and I have been known to take over two weeks to complete one load of laundry. Which says just as much about how many clothes the kids and I have as it does about the depths of my laziness. I cleaned up teh kids rooms, vacuumed all of the carpets, cleaned each of out three bathrooms, and organized and sorted each of the kids clothing - putting winter clothes front and center and removing everything that has been outgrown or can't be handed down. Phew! I also managed to squeeze in a trip to the gym with the kids, and a grocery run later in the day with the whole family. Good stuff. And yeah, a lot of you are probably thinking "um, I do all that stuff everyday, and you don't see me bragging about how hard I worked. It's not really all that hard, duh." Well, I just have one thing to say to you: Thppbbbbbttttt! And my husband has something to say too: "I don't know what happened to my wife, but this isn't her. So if you see a lazy woman wandering around out there, too busy with twitter to bother ever folding an article of clothing or a moment's worth of vacuuming, can you keep her? Cause this new model works WAY better."

So, I Did It Once Before You Say?

A lot of the encouragement I get from my family about trying to lose some weight involves reminding me I've done it before. After Jack was born, I not only lost the 25lbs I gained while pregnant, but another 25 lbs that I had packed on before getting pregnant. And yay me for doing that. My only question is, "does anyone remember how I did it?" Because I completely don't. I remember that I had a plan, and that it involved exercise and a focus on diet and healthier/lower calorie meals, but that's it. I don't remember ever feeling hungry or deprived or like I would kill someone for a cookie, but I also don't have a clue what it was I actually ate. So my chance of repeating seem slim given the fact that if I didn't KNOW I'd lost the weight I would never believe I had ever tried. And while I'm not looking for tips from anyone in general - do any of my family members who read this remember hearing about what I was doing when I lost weight? Cause I seriously can't remember, and I feel like I'm doing now what I would have been doing back then, but the weight is NOT coming off, so I'm wondering if the momentum and hormonal changes of just having a baby played a bigger role in my previous weight loss than I thought. Hrmmm.

update: I think this post is coming off like I am despondent or feeling hopeless about losing weight. So not true. Instead, it's more like I woke up thinking, "hey I can totally do this, I'll just follow the plan i used last time." and the HONESTLY HAD NO IDEA WHAT THAT WAS. it was only two years ago, how can my memory be eroding that quickly?

The Chains Are On The Door At The Baby Factory

After the nightmare of the past 8 months (periods every two weeks with intermittent 6 week breaks thrown in, hormonal rollercoaster similar to the rush immediately following childbirth), I have decided to stop taking the pill and get a Mirena IUD. I am a little cautious about this because there is a less than successful (or should I say way TOO successful) family history with IUDs that resulted in me being an only child. I am hoping that they have made some significant breakthroughs in the almost 32 (gah!) years since I was born, and there will be no similar complications for me. And of course, I already have three beautiful children, and there are no guarantees we will ever actually decide to have more anyway, so it seems like a safe bet. But I have to say it still feels a little weird to me- more final somehow than just taking the pill. With the pill you are actively taking responsibility for your reproductive system, and choosing to not use it. On the pill, I could stop at anytime. If we decided, "hey, let's give it a go for two months and if it happens it happens and if not, no big deal" we could. An IUD seems so much more permanent - like I'm saying i know for sure I never want to have another baby when i don't know that for sure. Now, there will have to be clear purposeful intent, and a trip to the doctor's office before any possibility of conceiving. That makes it seem so much more serious and life altering. Which of course having a child is and should be, but it should also be a personal private decision rather than something you have to share with your whole doctor's office. My mind knows there is no way we oculd manage or afford another baby right now. But my heart still does a little flutter everytime I think about getting pregnant again. I now totally understand the women who feel like they are less womanly for having had a mastectomy, whereas before I always wondered why they felt their breasts held so much of their identity. Because it would never occur to me to think less of any woman who is infertile or has had a hysterectomy or tubal ligation (or just chosen to never have kids). But I understand how they might feel that way about themselves, because somehow it feels like a little piece of my identity is being stripped away. For the past four years I have been pregnant or making sure I wasn't pregnant or planning when I will be again and this feels so final. Plus there is the whole 'regularly checking the "threads" to make sure everything is lined up properly' part of it. Ew. I like to feel that I am in touch with my body- but from more of an internal perspective. I'm not so into the "hands on' approach. But I'll do it, and it will be worth it if it quiets the emotional storm I have been weathering lately. And if it doesn't, well, that will be helpful too since I'll know I need some help from a different angle.