Long & (sort of) Short Friday

I write long posts. I try not to. I really do. I have sort of been frustrated with my inability to write a short post. I want to include every last long thoughtful detail. I have always written this way and, unfortunately, I even talk this way. I used to drive people crazy before some "nice" person told me this and made me painfully aware of my ability to bore the chipped three month old nail polish off of people...

So for this apologize. It is not like I set out to write some long ass post EVERY SINGLE DAY, it just happens. Then I go back to edit and I understand why there are editors for writers because it is seriously hard for me to edit my own work. I think 'OMG but that is such a good line' even though it is buried deep amongst a lot of not so good lines. Also, the good line could not stand on its own which likely makes it not a very good line. Whatever... I will try to be more thoughtful and edit my work with a more discerning eye. I will try, but I cannot promise anything!

***

The last Friday of every month, we have a work breakfast at a place called the Uptown. This morning I ordered huevos rancheros. If you have never had this and have a chance, oh my goodness, it is SO yummy - I wanted a second order of it!

The reason for the breakfast is three fold. I work for a small family own company. The company began out of corporate ineptitude. My boss and her husband worked for another company where they felt miserable & constrained. They thought 'we can do this better and these are the things we would do'. They quit one day after dealing with an overload of ineptitude and a few months later they started our company - 16 years ago.

They have made this into a smaller company with plenty of perks. The breakfasts, a pretty comfortable vacation schedule including the week off between Christmas & New Years that is not included in our regular vacation schedule, a very special Christmas party, lots of generosity in various ways through out the year and I am sure numerous other things I have not mentioned. In short, this is a family of sorts for all of us. I cannot recall how breakfasts came about - something about a way to celebrate successes big & small vs. the old way the OTHER company did it which was to punish people for failures.

Each breakfast, there are three questions of sorts that are asked. I used to find this process a little banal. I hated it in fact. I would get all nervous and sick feeling. The food would sit in my stomach like a rock but I have grown to enjoy breakfasts over the years.

The 1st question is 'what happened this past month usually at work?' - such as events or changes to the office but some times personal.

The 2nd question is 'what did you learn this past month?' Learnings can also vary. It can be work related or not but things that we want to share that we think others might be interested in or helpful. You are not required to share on this subject.

The final question is 'what are we looking forward to and/or what are you grateful for?' This part if fun because it is generally holidays or birthdays and some times work related. Also, it is sometimes serious.

I have come to love this process because it has taught me to appreciate my life and all that happens both in my life and the ripples I might cause in others lives. It is amazing to me that those three little questions can really open you up to gratitude and understanding.

Trust me there are months where I am bitter or angry about something or tired & wishing I could just go home and be with my son - I have little to say out loud those months.

On the other hand, there is always a learning in there or something to look forward to that will take me out of those feelings just a little bit.

Try it ~ it is pretty cool!

OH BTW, I failed on short AGAIN...

On Being A Subway Artist

Tessie mentioned unfortunate jobs people had when they were young the other day. I commented that my worst job came when I was into my 20s (22?). I did not really "work" per say until college. I had some odd jobs here and there as a kid but nothing that I hated enough to discuss in detail - really being a kid in my family was a shitty job but that is another story for another time ALTOGETHER.

I started thinking about other jobs I have held and I can definitely say by far the worst job I ever had was the job I had when I worked for a craptastic (it is a word - in my mind, it is a word) Midwestern university that is basically the extension of two HUGE universities and has major identity issues with a Chancellor who should be fired for being both a sexist pig (he told me to wear more skirts and also he told my boss upon seeing me when I interviewed to hire me because "I was cute") and an asshole.

But that is not what I am hear to tell you about. My favorite job was being a 'Sandwich Artist' at Subway for the better part of three years in college. I LOVED this job. First, it was close to the house I lived in so I could walk to and from work (and did not have to drive the unfortunate Tempo purchase. )

At first, I hated it mostly because of the uniform. I had to wear a stupid visor and that ugly Subway green shirt. Also, an apron which was just weird because why? I never put anything INTO the apron with its three pockets. It was constricting and got in the way and I never wiped anything on it, just the ugly green shirt... What was I supposed to store in the apron? My favorite bread cutting knife so I could whip that out every time I heard a costumer arrive?! I felt okay about the fact that I worked at Subway in that it did not seem fast food-ish like the Hardees right next store.

There were several things I loved about Subway: I loved that I got to see a lot of people there. Being sort of a shy gal when NOT drinking it was a good place for me to keep my hands and eyes occupied (these two things being the bane to all shy people's existence...) and yet still carry on conversations with people (okay, truth be known: guys) that I normally would need to be slightly if not totally inebriated to speak with! Wow, did I just admit that? Yeah, so that is the reason this blog thing works for me too - I can carry on friendships and conversations without have to talk eye to eye (or hand to hand???) with people...

The repetitiveness of Subway was something I actually enjoyed. Which may seem weird but being the above mentioned child of my particular family unit, I have come to love routine. I never had much of that and so for me knowing that you cut the bread just so, that you put two tomatoes on a six inch and four a foot long, and wrapped the sub in just this way with one napkin for the six inch and 2 for the foot long - well fit me just fine.

I had the best co-workers. They were all students of varying age and socio-economic backgrounds. They were artsy and nerdy and, in my case, a jock. I loved the mix of people I normally would not hang with and in turn we had a happy little Subway family. My favorite by far was Marvin (the Martin - we called him.) He was stick thin, in a fraternity and engaged to be married. He was a little older than the average student and very religious but he and his finance were the kindest people I knew.

I had two bosses at Subway. One was Mike, the other Janelle. Mike was a sexist as well but thankfully for Mike I had the job. He told me hired me because I was cute (enough with that crap... I mean seriously! I have a female boss who is happily married or else I would be worried about how I got ALL of my jobs in this life!?) Mike was not around long which is probably a good thing. He would regularly leave us to do piles of work & go off to sit and ogle girls at the beach (though he would always take work with him, wink wink... ugh.) He was a major dork and was mishandling money and his time (and apparently some of the female employees as well which ICK!) so he was fired. I learned that you cannot be a good boss if you are not present and that employers do not appreciate stupid shenanigans no matter how cool you think you are!

Janelle came over from Hardees to manage the Subway. We HATED her at first. Everyone wanted to quit until we realized how valuable she was. She taught us how to keep a restaurant clean (to this day I cannot go into a Subway without checking how clean the base boards are and seriously have you ever looked at the baseboards in most restaurants?!) She fed into my need for normalcy and repetition. She ran a tight ship; yet she was smart & funny at the same time. I respected her and in turn she trusted me to do A LOT. Janelle was totally Type A and made sure that we kept that place looking like one would keep a very clean home. She made sure everyone was well trained and got along. I would almost go so far as to say that she taught me most everything I needed to know about to run a business very well.

There were things I hated: I smelled when I got home - nothing like mayo and vinegar to make a girl feel pretty at the end of the day. I was tired from being on my feet for 8 hours a day & honestly customers really mucked up the beauty of this job. People took their subs WAY to seriously and when I say that I mean there was some psycho who came in every week (why?), would WATCH us make his sub, take it to his chair and come back and raise a stink (usually in the middle of the lunch or dinner time crunch) about the fact that he only wanted THREE olives and somehow 'THAT girl over that put 3.5 olives on my sub. GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK....' I also worked at a local ice cream shop/dairy so I was usually working TWO shifts back to back which sucked me rear.

I can hardly eat Subway these days. The taste of the food is what gets me. I was poor as I suggested in the Tempo e-mail so I virtually subsisted off the free sub we received for working a given shift. I ate Subway every day for three years - you try it - sorry Jared but ummm, gross. I also get frustrated about the people who work at Subways these days. They seem less fresh and excited about their jobs - I generally want to jump behind the counter and just make my own because even though it has been the better part of 10 years since I last cut a piece of bread or asked which toppings would you like, I know I could do it just as fast as I did back then. Finally, the one Subway we usually go to seems less clean and fresh smelling and why oh why did they change how to cut the bread!?

SO that is my favorite job that I had as a young person - SO LAME!

Charlie Brown's Christmas

I was sort of bummed that I some how missed watching the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special last month (also, I waited to long to send a DVD back to Netflix so I did not get it from there either...)

So last night I was thrilled to see not one but TWO Charlie Brown Christmas specials on. Then I started thinking about this... It is NOVEMBER 28, right? Shouldn't these shows me on closer to Christmas? Why must we rush everything (or drag it out - which ever way you prefer to look at it...) in this world? Why can't the specials wait a few weeks so they are on closer to the holiday? By the way, in case you care, next week on Wednesday is a Shrek Christmas and the old Grinch show. I digress and poorly transition between paragraphs which make no sense...

Yes, I am 34 and I love holiday kiddie shows... shut it! I think part of that love hearkens back to the memories those shows have etched in my childhood memories. I LOVED watching Charlie Brown Christmas and the Grinch on TV weeks before Christmas. You had to watch for the advertisements and check the TV guide carefully or you would miss them. It seems with the advent of VCRs, DVDs, etc that there have been less and less shows like this on TV like I remember as a kid (besides of course on ABC Family) or maybe I just have not paid much attention in years past.

I remember making popcorn on the stove or in the popper (no microwave for us) and getting a big glass of egg nog. I would settle down in front of the TV, crossed legged and ready for these beloved shows. I know the words my heart - 'That Charlie Brown, he is a block head but he did get a nice little tree.' or Lucy saying 'I want real estate' and Sally's letter to Santa requesting $5 or $10s if her gifts were too difficult to obtain. I think these shows bring me back to being a kid. To the sense of wonder and excitement I used to feel (before I figured out that Santa and the Easter bunny were really just two people, of course...)

Matthew was still up when these shows were on struggling as usual with bed time - opening & closing his door, asking for drinks of water, needing to use the bathroom, ONE more song, Mommy, pluuuuuuese... Fighting off sleep between yawns. I did not invite him to watch, not because I am cruel or anything like that. Partly, I am just trying to slow the excitement of Christmas until we get a little closer to the 25th. Also, I remember the Nanny telling some parents on her show that they should not let their young child watch TV right before bed time because it actually hypes them up more than makes them sleepy. Lord knows we do not need Matthew to be more awake! However, I wanted to so badly to invite him to snuggle with me on the couch, break out the popcorn & nog and let him experience this 'event' that I am so fond of!

I love many things about about Matthew's age right now but one of the biggest things I have come to love is the wonder and excitement by which he lives life. Something we adults forget or become oblivious to often times... He turns to me his eyes flashing with excitement in the car at all of the lights on the houses, his mouth a perfect round 'O' when he sees a blow up Santa or polar bear the size of a house, the cheering for our Christmas decorations each morning as if it is the 1st time he is seeing them and not the 15th time.

I love this age because it is unmarred by expectations to some degree. He has asked simply for a train set. Not something bigger or more expensive. I hold this time in the palm of my hand, I put it in my pocket and hope that I will remember to take it out as he grows older... as his requests grow more elaborate and likely more expensive.

I also want him to learn the joy of the season beyond just the hype, the commercialism of it all. I think that is why I still love those old cartoons - the simple ones like Charlie Brown and the Grinch. They are a reminder for me of simpler times past. They bring back for me the wonder and excitement I used to feel, the hope for the season and beyond. That is one thing I hope to "give" to Matthew now so when he is 'an old person' like me, he will remember something special about the season like I remember the cartoons. That he will be able to recapture that naive belief in simple goodness, holiday love and spirit of giving back to our fellow man!

The Tempo

Last evening I was having some, er, trouble sleeping. When I am like this I tend to let my mind wander. This can be a scary thing and actually does nothing to put me to sleep. Quite the opposite actually, it causes me to be even more awake. I also want to run downstairs and tap it out on the keyboard for all to read. Thank your lucky stars I do not EVER do this because some of what might come out might be very... SCARY.

I was thinking about cars. Specifically the cars I have been in possession of over my life time. But one in particular, THE Tempo (dun dun dun!), stood out. This might be one of the single worst most stupid purchases of my young life. I thought I was mature and knowledgeable about things like cars. I knew the girl, Tanya, from going out and drinking too much at local watering holes and so as one should at 20 yearrs of age... I trusted her. I do not think I even took the car for a test drive. She said her father was a mechanic and he looked it over and said it was fine (I did not talk to this dude mind you - just went on her word...) I desperately wanted a car to get around in this small college town. I did not think I would have this car for more than the two years I had left in college and than I planned to flee from Michigan back to CA and never look back. This is not exactly how life happened.

I took possession of the car and if I had bothered to look likely I would have seen Tanya and her father laughing their asses off at me in the rear view mirror as I drove away for having paid too much for a lemon. It was terrible mistake - the windshield had a tiny crack in it and by the 1st winter, the crack had spidered and ran the length of the windshield both vertically and horizontally like a cross (mine to bear - ah the drama!) The car had tires that were bald and it leaked so many fluids I was not sure where to begin. Did I mention that it was two tone? - that is dark blue and primer gray in various locations - why? I do not know....

Also, the windows did not roll down properly and you could only lock and unlock the doors to the car on one side, passenger side of course! I actually drove that monstrosity up the drive way to the house and proceeded to walk all around town for the remainder of my college career... Why I bothered to waste my money is still beyond me.

I graduated from college with a hideous boyfriend whom I met nearly around the time I bought the Tempo (which is eerie to think about now...) I thought I was in love and would do anything for him (gah what was I thinking?!) I drove that Tempo filled with my worldly possessions down to Detroit to spend the summer with him and his family than on to Milwaukee where I chose to live for a year after graduation with an old college roommate and her boyfriend. I was desperately poor. I always worked two jobs neither of which provided me with enough income to live properly. I made rent and stared longingly at the food my roommates would bring home in bulk from Sam's Club. I used to steal food from them because they had so much and dammit it made sense - I was hungry and they had more than they needed. I used to steal food from the places I worked too. Like a sad scavenger, I would forage about for food.

The Tempo sort of typified how poor and sorry for myself I felt. Looking back that Tempo meant more than just being poor - it was also part of the horrible abusive relationship I was in. The horn did not work because the boyfriend had bashed it in rather than my face because he was angry at me for NOT GIVING HIM MONEY that I did not have to give so he could go spend it on drugs, gambling and alcohol. He cared for me the way one would care for a dirty rag.

The danger of this car (and the relationship) only became worse as time went by. The tires that were thread bare two years earlier were now clicking down the street and one could visually see the steel belting. I blew a tire out in Peshtigo WI one Sunday evening driving back from Marquette to Milwaukee. Two things you do NOT want to do - blow a tire out in rural WI on a Sunday evening no less! Thankfully I met a nice family with several tire irons (gawd, I do not know why...) and the man pried the rusty bolts off and showed me how to attach a spare tire to the Tempo (oh yeah it actually had one, that had air in it...) I drove the 3 hours back to Milwaukee praying that nothing else happened, white knuckled and sad. I had to buy a USED tire to replace the spare. And then two weeks later I had to buy another used tire to replace the used tire I just bought.

The fear I lived in from this boyfriend can also be mirrored in the fact that this car regularly stalled when I was driving it. Like in the middle of intersections with cars coming at me at great speeds. I can remember one particular time when in some Zen moment, I calmly saw the cars speeding toward me. The engine cut out - like I was in a movie and the slow motion feature was activated, I turned the key and got the car started and jammed by foot down on the gas pedal narrowly escaping with my life! Shaking, I had to laugh at this feature of the car, now and then.

I learned how to take care of a car better than most men know how to - changing oil, stopping leaks, changing tires, talking my way out of tickets (because I was UNINSURED on top of it the whole time I drove that beast - dangerous and stupid, I was...) but I also learned how to take care of myself because of this car. I feel that the Tempo came into my life to show me at the ripe age of 22 that I was not yet mature. That I needed to do some learning and this car helped me to learn, to grow up, albeit the hard way.

I was infinitely happy to see the Tempo go though I did not toss that horrible relationship with the boyfriend aside for another year and a half year - there was still a lot learning to be done on that front. Thankfully the Tempo taught me that you can only drive a lemon for so long before trading it in for a fancy new car with good tires and a soft humming engine which I eventually did. That cars and men are not all lemons. So for that, I am thankful.

A Shel Silverstein Moment?

Not long after Matthew gained control of his arms, actually more precisely his hands, he realized he has orifices like his nose and began to stick his fingers in there. Someone said "well why not stick his fingers in there, they fit perfectly!" This person was kidding of course but it is sort of true. Also, every time I think of picking one's nose I think of that Silverstein poem "Warning" where 'picking one's nose may be hazardous because a vicious snail residing in the nostril can bite off one's finger...'

So recently my little darling has started picking his nose with much more verve than he ever did in the past. Like some gross milestone, he finds it amusing to check out what is in there. And when you offer him a tissue, he usually will forgo the tissue, of course. Even when I jamming the tissue up against his little nose screaming 'NO NO do not pick your nose.' Such good parenting, wouldn't you agree? He is fascinated by what he can get from his wee little nose and I am disgusted by the whole scene, man.

The other day in another act of good parenting from my dear husband, Kevin told Matthew that if he picked his nose, it would fall off. Matthew did not entirely believe him until he tried it again and sure enough Daddy was there to tell him how his nose would fall off. Seems the little dude believed him.

Additionally, and as if me jamming the tissue in his face was not scarring enough, Kevin told me today that he (Kevin) once again reinforced the nose falling off when picking syndrome when Matthew queried him about whether his nose would fall off if he did stick his sweet little fingers in his nose no less than two days later...

Sigh. Does anyone know a good therapist? I may as well start to make advance payments for Matthew's treatment now!

Once Upon A Time...

As of late, we have been playing a new game in our house. A LOT.

Matthew: Sing a story to me

Kevin/Christina: Say please Matthew.

Matthew: audible sigh - PLEAAAAAAAAASE sing me a story.

Kevin/Christina: Twinkle, twinkle litt...

Matthew: No, no - SING me a story.

Kevin/Christina: OH, you mean 'tell me a story', right?

Matthew: Yeah, Sing me a story (one can practically see the eyes rolling at us) about a _______ (Insert the theme - for me it seems to be tractor - I must look like tractor kind of a gal to my son.)

Kevin/Christina: Once upon a time...

****
Mostly Kevin does the story telling because I do the reading at night (by Matthew's choice.) Also, I think Kevin is much better at making up stories to be told to a two year old than I am - you know match the level of the mind to the level of the mind - Matthew may have a year or two on Kevin (I am SO kidding...)

This story telling game is not limited to the bed time routine any longer. We also do it in the car and when we are eating. It is actually quite fun and we have been encouraging Matthew to participate in the story telling though I am not sure he is quite there yet. He does try but he mostly likes for Mommy and Daddy to tell the stories. We offer in between to let him add on or tell his own. One day he will.

SO the other night at dinner we were all seated in our usual locations - Prince Matthew sitting at the head of the table (how wrong it that? Is that setting him up for some kind of Freudian let down later in life?!) and Kevin and I in our appointed positions flanking the Prince in the Kingdom Of Matthew.

Matthew started to tell a story out of the blue. He said "Once upon a time, there is an old man named Daddy. Daddy and Matthew were out for a walk with Matthew's bike on the trail when a bunny hopped onto the path. The end." Can you hear the laughter from where you are? The old man named Daddy about killed me. Little did I know that Matthew was essentially repeating a story Kevin told him the night before. It is quite humorous and I am thankful he is not saying an old lady named mommy. Though I have been added into the story along with the dogs - it is an evolving story apparently. I am not sure I should feel good or bad about being parceled together with Santana & Lucy but hey it works for Matthew so whatever.... There is also a fox and a river now.

Kevin and I started discussing our story telling methods and Kevin fessed up and said he often will cut a story short and end it for absolutely no reason in the middle. Just like the old man story. I confessed that Matthew actually CUTS me off because my stories get to be so boring - they sort of ramble on and become to fused with details (SHOCKING I know!)

So once upon a time there was an old man named Daddy... add to this story and let's see how we can change it up for poor Matthew and his story challenged parents!

Giving Thanks.

Well, it is over. Holiday #2 of the big THREE. Also, I successfully completed the 2nd large turkey meal of the season, one more BIG meal to make and than no more until we do it all again starting with Canadian Thanksgiving next year.

I love Thanksgiving. There are not strings attached. No presents to buy, no guilt to be had - there really is nothing I can say bad about this holiday. I create and cook a meal that we love and we enjoy the company of one another. We eat like hogs - I looked over at Kevin at one point when there was no noise coming from our table other than the chewing of food - NOT even the two year old and ruminated on the fact that I would like to unhinge my jaw so I could somehow pass even more food through my mouth at a fast rate because it was so good and we were all so hungry!

My favorite moment of the day came when Matthew was chatting with his grandpa F by phone and he said 'I had maaaaaaaaaaashed potatoes, sweet pototoes and cranberry sauce. I have to toot (followed by several loud long farts), I tooted. Good-bye.'

Today we talked a lot about being thankful. Kevin said he was thankful for his family, I said I was thankful for the happiness we have today and the pleasure it was to make a nice meal for my family to enjoy. Matthew said he was thankful for mashed potatoes... and cranberry sauce!

Happy Turkey Day ~ Gobble Gobble!

Mmmmm - DOUUUUUUUUUGHNUTS...

I love that wild and crazy Homer Simpson. I cannot think of a doughnut without thinking of Homer and his rotund belly which makes me glance down at my protrusion of tummy chub and think 'How come the very week that I decided to get healthy for the 53,280 time, someone in my office brought in doughnuts???' Why is the world such a cruel, dark place?

But mmmmm, coffee and glazed chocolate doughnuts - delectable! Also, doughnuts was showing up as spelled incorrectly so I checked the dictionary online and this is the lovely definition for doughnuts which just makes me want to run, not walk, back into the kitchen for another, no?

Doughnut: a small usually ring-shaped cake fried in fat (PS: I spelled it right the first time... stupid Blogger spell check!)

Ah, so the holidays are upon us. We are prepared for our Thanksgiving feast... well minus the bird. We still need to go pick that up from the butcher shop this evening. Nothing like waiting till the last minute, eh?! I finished the grocery shopping late last evening - we did Kroger Monday evening with Matthew and Bloomingfoods last evening without. Matthew melted down at Kroger for 30 minutes on Monday so I went solo to the other store to avoid this newest of activities that Matthew seems to enjoy. Apparently, Matthew learned the value of screaming bloody murder to get what he wants from us while I was away. Yeah us...

I am looking forward to Thanksgiving - Wearing our Pj's all day, watching the Macy's Parade on TV, cooking up a storm, and stuffing myself silly (speaking of eating!) WEEEEE... Also, I do not have to bake this year. Our boss took my husband out for lunch with another co-worker (it is this thing they have going on - sort of a bet... it's a long story) to this place.

I told her about Kevin's mom because I wanted her to understand if Kevin was not his usual jovial self for you see they have a "special" beat the crap out of one another verbally kind of relationship (all in fun of course... And also it takes the pressure off the rest of us so I am TOTALLY not complaining!) At any rate, she bought him an apple and pumpkin pie (they are huge... we may still be eating them for Christmas.) Feel free to come by unannounced for dessert. We'll be there! Also, I may even throw in a turkey leg and some gravy if you are really hungry!

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Hands

I have an obsession with M's hands. I have to admit. As a general rule, I do not have a hand fetish. But since he was a tiny little baby - the moment the nurses handed M to me - I took hold of those impossibly small, wrinkled pinkish fingers and I feel as if I have not let go since. I counted each finger (and toe) to be sure there were 10 of each. The soft purplish nails fascinated me... I stared at them - those grew inside of me. That whole little being but most especially those perfect little fingers, that hand - I loved them immediately.

I regularly photograph those hands as if each time I see them they appear different to me and I want to document that change. They have grown and become more like a child's hand and less like those baby hands I first grasped that day, that cool rainy April evening.

Those small baby hands became chubby baby hands that troubled over how to get a block into a large gaping open space to a hand that can now hold a pen, a crayon, an impossibly small object and guide it without thinking into an even smaller space.

I love the way his little pinkie finger curves in. I love that he can manipulate the things he needs and wants - a book with paper pages, how he flips through the book until he finds what he wants. I love how he will hold my hand so tightly in public some times. He even grants me the occasional hand squeeze that I interrupt to mean he loves me.

We taught M the sign for 'I love you' recently and my heart fills to bursting when he turns to me out of the blue and does that sign, like this morning over breakfast. Our secret sign to say 'I love you' without having to say it. I marvel over the growth of those hands.

I wonder how they will look as he grows older. Will they be veiny like mine? Will he has spots on his hands like his Grandpa F? Will he work at his beloved construction sites and have calloused hands? Or will be learn to play an instrument? A million questions float through my head about his hands and how they will be as he grows older day by day.

His hands tell me so much about him. His tight grip on his blanket when he sad or tired. His soft stroking hand on that tattered worn blue blanket as he drifts off to sleep. The rapidity of his clapping hands, the smile hiding behind the clapping. The way they unfurl upward when he tells us how when he grows up up up he can drink coffee too.

The patience he has with me when we settle down to watch a favorite show while I give him a manicure. He always wiggles his fingers after I cut those nails and says 'look Daddy, mommy cut my nails!'

I love all of M of course. Do not get me wrong but his hands seem so expressive, he is so unaware of how far those hands have come. It is just a part of him that I look at and notice the changes which now seem so subtle, so different then those early baby days yet I can still see the changes. I am aware of the growth and change there acutely because of those 1st days. I hope he never lets go of holding my hand tightly but I know eventually he will - so I am just enjoying them while I can.

Altered State of Mind

I have had the time as of late to think... like I used to think before I had Matthew. For a long time, Matthew was my only thought. When the next feeding would be, how we would get him to sleep at night, would he melt down at a moment's notice, he is eating the right foods... You know the usual parenting worries. So really what I am trying to say is that I spent a lot of time worrying about Matthew.

I also spent most of my free time thinking about Matthew which is a good and bad thing as one can well imagine. I feel I have a moment, a breather during the workout that life presents itself to be. Like a weekend off for your favorite football team, a bi in another words... where there is not much to worry about regarding Matthew in terms of the minute to minute happenings. He is fairly self sufficient. Sure, he gets up in the night and needs me to help him use the bathroom and still cries from time to time about things, the occasional melt down (like when his mommy is miles away in Detroit and he cannot be consoled about missing me...) but else wise he can do a lot on his own, so my need for worrying/thinking about him constantly has waned a tiny bit.

As I mentioned in a previous post, as well as here, I have been feeling like myself again. When I say that I mean I have myself back. It took a long time - I chose to nurse for 20 months and it was worth every moment for me. I was unsure about future babies beyond Matthew and I wanted to take in every moment & nursing for as long as possible was a very important thing for me to do. After the nursing ended, it seemed like another six months before I started really feeling great (which may also coincidentally correspond to FINALLY feeling good about what a lovely wonderful day care situation we have for Matthew - thank you Kelly ;)

The thing is now that I feel good, it is easier to look at life more clearly. Perhaps it is the full nights of sleep and the lack of frustration with bed time, who knows... With clarity comes the realization that I can now enjoy each moment as it presents itself. I always did this prior to this new found clarity with regards to Matthew mainly but in a different way. But now I am able to include more people than just one tiny little soul.

I feel now that I know I am lucky and that life is good. That no matter what happens in this world, I have all the things I ever dreamed of having even though many of those things I thought I used to dream of having are not a part of my life. Those old dreams seem so distant and also frivolous. Like having a certain kind of car or clothing or house was going to make me happy? Really? Not so. I also feel blessed to have some of those things (but certainly these things LOOK very different than I imagined.) I used to think I was owed that kind of thing but now I know it comes from hard work - sort of blood, sweat and tears if you will. And honestly today I feel I would be happy if we lived in a shack and rode the bus as long as I had the love of my son and husband, my sweet puppies and really and truly my health.

***
This past year, I have talked about Zach and his family's experience with his seemingly unending (and in some ways the unending part is good because that means he is still around to grace us with his smile and cheerful attitude toward life) journey with Hodgkin's Disease. Things I have not mentioned was a scare from a co-worker with skin cancer and another co-worker's husband who continues to battle Lymphoma. Also, Kevin's grandfather passed away some what from neglect on his health care provider's part and a co-worker from a previous job who continues to struggle with the ever debilitating MS she has.

I have not paid much attention to cancer particularly. I did my due diligence to learn about MS and I was aware of skin cancer because well who isn't? But other cancers - they have been hidden from my consciousness. This may seem odd - I think it was some subtle form of denial on my part. I did not really read much when there were articles or forwards on breast cancer and even with that health degree I kind of just ignored it. I knew it would not be long before I would have to sit up and pay attention.

Unconsciously, I knew that I better enjoy each moment in my life for what it is because you never know when life will come along to smack your cheek like a karmic bitch slap basically saying 'wake up girlie it is all around you and it is not going away'. I was not always one to appreciate life and all that it has to offer. I always wanted more and thought that life COULD be better. After having Matthew and coming back to myself recently, I know now that having "things" in this life is great, a bonus even, but not the most important thing. That ultimately loving those around us is really the most important gift humankind has been granted no matter how long or short that love is in our lives... That loving hurts profoundly and can be the greatest thing on earth and all points in between.

On Friday evening, we received word that Kevin's mother has breast cancer - and not just breast cancer but essentially what amounts to the worst kind of breast cancer a human being can have. It is call Inflammatory Breast Cancer. The percentage of people diagnosed with type of cancer is small (1-5%) and it is deadly. The survival rate is 25-50% maybe and the treatment is aggressive...

It is hard to put into words how I am feeling about this. I mean as much as I have bitched about my mother in law, she is really a nice person when you get down to it. She just had the unfortunate "opportunity" to be labeled MIL by virtue of marriage and, of course, she has done her part some times to warrant that bitching.

On the other hand, this is the closest I have ever come to cancer besides perhaps Zach. The ramifications of her cancer scare me infinitely. It is not just the important and immediate implications of what her life will be like from now on but also the fact that I do finally understand the genetic coding that has been passed on to my son by virtue of being half of Kevin. The realization that my family's medical history is fairly tame in comparison to his parents (and grandparents) - both of whom have had cancer (his father is missing part of his colon during to colon cancer as a very young man - he survived obviously and met Kevin's mother who was a nurse where he was in the hospital...) As I lately love to say - 'it is what it is'. I have no control over any of these things. I know that hope is a good thing but it can also dash our feelings as witnessed by my boss and their family's fight for Zach's health.

I find myself looking at life in such a different way now - so radically different for me in the past few months than I have ever looked at life ever. I am quite certain now more so than ever that all things happen to us for a reason (both good & bad), the people we met, the things we come to know, the events that occur in our lives... I am quite certain that for Kevin and his family the next year(s) will be the most difficult adventure in their lives... that I can only hope they all find a way to see beyond the immediate danger of having this kind of cancer and see that life has been filled to the brim with many loving moments, feelings, experiences, and time. That is what I hope for this coming year and I am thankful for today, and the love we have.

I'm BACKKKKKKK...

Yes, yes I did survive. Though I do have to admit I did shed some tears over Northern Indiana (around Fort Wayne which may not shock some of you as you may know the loathing I feel toward that city...) I am still not sure I shed those tears due to the horrible turbanlance or the fact that I stopped reading Wondertime to grip the seat in panic & fear of the turbanlance thus giving my brain time to think about the fact that my boy was miles and miles away likely warm and snuggly in his bed... Though it was reported to me that Kevin had to live with a 4o minute epic meltdown when Matthew finally realized Mommy was not really hiding in the basement. Kevin resorted to getting out photo albums and they kept a bunch of photos of me out which Matthew picked and apparently slept with. Also there were several other melt down moments regarding Mommy but none like the EPIC one on Saturday morning.

All in all everyone survived the weekend without incident. Well, other the incident where apparently Matthew tried to pull the bottom box filled with a beloved exavator in the toy section at Wally World thus toppling the OTHER boxes onto his nose (not his face because I made the fatal error of saying his face and was corrected immediately by the little tyke...) and leaving a lovely NEW scratch to add to the others! It was a lovely weekend of chatting, eating and shopping - oh and we went to the shower too ;) I am VERY glad I had the chance to see Jen in all of her pregnant glory and spend some girl time with her before the little guy makes his apparence in Febraury!

However, I was still very glad to have kisses and hugs from this little face when I FINALLY arrived back (after a TWO hour delay in Detroit... Good news is I almost finished a book while we waited for the wing to be repaired... Never a dull moment in a two day trip to Detroit :)

Also, here finally are some Halloween photos - never too late for those right? I mean they have pumpkins in them which is sort of Thanksgiving themed, right? Never mind - just enjoy!

Motor City Here I Come!

So it is Friday at long long last! Hip hip hooray! I am SO not working when I ought to be considering I am taking off half a day to go car hunting but whatever. I am excited to test drive the Honda CRV but we will likely end up back at Toyota. We seem to be a Toyota family but we shall see!

I must also prepare for my 29 hour trip to Detroit (specifically Royal Oak!) I am going to a baby shower for my friend, Jen! I love a good shower - okay some of that has to do with the food but also to see all of the cute things people get for their babies!!!

I do need to pack a little suitcase. I am still some how hoping I can get around checking anything onto the plane and just carry on my stuff but the gifts I have for the future little baby boy are likely not going to allow that and what with all the talk of airport security, I am not going to take a chance. My concerns arise from the time we were taking a flight somewhere last year and, not thinking, I bought some play dough for Matthew as a surprise toy for the plane and they took a brand new $5 three-pack of play dough and tossed it in the TRASH... Flipping unbelievable! I was like 'can you donate it?' The stinkin' airport security dude told us 'they COULD NOT TAKE THAT CHANCE...' Yeah watch out for those 2 year old mother totting terrorists...

Yet this past week it was widely reported that liquid explosives made it onto flights past airport security. My thoughts on this: they are trained to look for the obvious - my son's play dough (which the security dude readily admitted was used in their training procedures...) but not for things that are well hidden and can easily get past security... SO I am sure the package of baby products will certain send an alarm up and would likely end up in the trash...

****

Usually I would just drive to Detroit as it is only six hours and what is that, nothing really, right (especially after spending eight years in the Upper Peninsula of MI where getting to any is an 8 hour drive minimum) BUT the thought of driving 12 hours in one weekend made both Kevin and I a little queasy plus the whole having only one real working car that really needs an oil change made it even more onerous.

This is also my FIRST time ever to spend the night away from Matthew since he was born! I am nervous and hopeful that I only shed a small amount of tears which will likely occur around 30 thousand feet while I am stuck at a window seat (the only isle seats available were at the back of the plane...) next to some grouchy old dude who is wondering why in the world the tired looking lady next to him is sobbing silently into her palm! I know we will all survive but still he's ma baby and I *sob* am sad none the less...

Survival may include several incidents of wetting Matthew's pants as it seems Matthew only wants me to help him go to the bathroom. I am sure Kevin will be fine and it is ONLY 29 hours after all - what could happen in 29 hours, right. RIGHT?!?!?

I am hoping that no blood will be shed. Kevin is planning to take Matthew skating at the ice rink... hopefully this works out because last year Matthew shrieked and sobbed the entire time we were at the rink. In fact, the only time he did not cry was when we finally left sooo... it will be interesting to hear the report from Kevin on Sunday evening. And again with no real good movement from one topic to the next - What does everyone else have planned for the impending weekend?!

Y'all have a lovely weekend!

A little bit of Green

I know I have been rather, ah, verbose lately. I cannot seem to say anything on here without going into massive detail and thoughtful run on sentences. This is not always the most exciting thing for people to read. My apologizes in advance. I have felt very out of sorts lately for no good reason. I wanted to post some photos today but alas I am at work and all the photos are at home so no photos for you. Just this little tidbit brought to you by me....

I have mentioned my environmental concerns over the course of various posts so I thought I would share a wonderful friendly site called the Daily Green where you can learn more about the ways to go green - it has one easy thing to do and green cuisine as well as an eNewsletter you can sign up for and receive updates five days a week. Check it out. Tell a friend about it. Think about doing something new to "go green" (big or small) that might help the environment - every little bit helps!

Hump Day

Do the words 'hump day' make you giggle like a prepubescent teenager? 'Cause it does that for me... Eh, well, what can I say, small mind - easily entertained?

I have to say that I am at a loss as to what I should write. I poured my little heart out the past few days in various ways so I have NOTHING. Nothing. Oh I am sure I will come up with something to ramble about here... Aren't you glad?!

I can tell you that Matthew would not go to sleep last night and he woke up in the middle of the night saying his tummy hurt - it did not really hurt (I was not feeling well last evening and I was laying on the couch half asleep feeling yucky and I think he was imitating me and I did not really explain to him why my tummy hurt so he may have been worrying about me in his sleep? Do you think kids do this? Eh, well it was TOO much greeeeasy pizza...).

I think Santana actually woke him up because he (Santana) was being a freaky spaz. Santana wanted to go out 50 times and his stomach kept making crazy ass un dog like noises. Then at 3am it dawned on me that no one feed the dogs last night... Shit. Santana also took it upon himself to not only be loud and annoying most of the night but also to pee on the corner of the couch (likely to let us know how unhappy he was that the poor underfed dog missed his meal... HA) so I had the opportunity to clean up the pee this morning. Yeah for me... Also, Lucy started barking for no good reason at 5:30am. AND. and Kevin slept through it all. That is the part that irks me the most really ;) I finally dragged myself out of bed at 6:15am because I just figured the hell with it. Kevin slept for 40 minutes longer... GROWL.

Err, ah, so how about those striking workers in France? I note this because I have a co-worker who likes to travel the world and she is leaving this evening to go to Paris and then rural France to go the Beaune Wine Auction and wine tasting in Burgundy. I live vicariously through Laura because she is super hip, fun and has this sense of adventure that I hope I can foster down the road once Matthew is older.

I had the chance to go to Europe as a young person but I was truly a petulant teenager and never took my mom up on the offer (Nice segue way, huh?) I wish I had but I did not so it is a place I dream about visiting all the time! I have many relatives who still live in England, The Netherlands and France. I will go one day soon but for now I am really interested in learning some of the traditions from my heritage. I am some what of a mutt - my father's side is Italian and Polish (with some Ukrainian in there as well) but my mom is 100% Dutch.

My mom visited her family in the Netherlands often when I was child and always brought back lovely treats (that surely gave me this mouth full of cavatities but oh my lord, the licorice, stroopwafels, and Hagelslag - oh if you ever have a chance try all these dutch treats and more - makes me drool just thinking about them!) She also would often tell stories about growing up during the war and post war in Holland.

I used to know a handful of dutch words, I could sing songs in dutch, I generally could understand the language when my mom had her parents or sisters to visit and I could count to 20. My mom and I also used to visit this lovely little Dutch store in San Jose my whole life and I miss this place dearly. But that has really been the extent of my Dutch knowledge.

I decided this year now that Matthew is getting older I wanted return to some of my Dutch roots so I am planning to celebrate St Nicholas Day on December 6th as best I can. I may not be very savvy at this so I am going to start out small! I have ordered some stuff from a Dutch web site that I found. That is about all I have done...

My mom even told me how her mother used to do St Nicholas Day (she said they actually started the celebration on November 5th in the evening) There were white and black gloves involved. I highly doubt I will go that far but it was neat to hear her story about how they would celebrate when she was young and the war had ravished most of Europe. I could just imagine what it was like back then - I could just picture my Oma & Opa, my mom and my two aunties giggling over the changing of the gloves all their tiny apartment in The Hague!

I am trying to find an inexpensive pair of wooden shoes but holy crap real wooden shoes direct from Holland (or even a store stateside) are expensive (both the painted and unpainted kind.) So that is what I am planning for December 6th because I am not really stressed out enough for the holidays! In all seriousness, I am very excited to start doing this with my family! Now I just need to come up with some fun little poems for Matthew and Kevin.

Long Fall Walks

Matthew was home with me in the afternoon yesterday during the big birthday day off. He went to day care in the morning so I could do some of the dreaded holiday shopping. (I did not get as much done as I hoped but I finally bought Kevin his Father's Day gift - better late than never, I always say ;)

Matthew came home with me around noon or soon there after. He ate SOME MORE (can you believe that Kelly?!) and we (being Kevin AND I) finally got him down for nap around 1:15p or so. I was sad and glad he took a nap because I was able to play on the computer and when I say play I mean I got to read the numerous blogs I now read, write my own entry and also upload 400 photos. I still need to print the photos but I was excited to upload, rotate the photos they were going in the correct direction (mostly) and reduce red eye on as many as possible. I love photos so I looked at all of them again and again. I am hoping to post some more on here in the next few days because there are some great Fall shots that we took a couple of weeks ago plus well I am behind but even some Halloween shots that I want to share. Well, it seems when I am at any computer the hours just slip through my fingers because the next thing I knew I looked up and it was 4:00p... OPPS!

I am usually super conscious about "the nap timing" because too long and we are up until 10p with him (or later...); too short and you have a crabby kiddo. But yesterday the glory of the photos and the Internet just sucked me in and then spit me out blinking and confused. I rushed upstairs and there stood Matthew also looking confused and blinking from his long nap.

We ate some leftover birthday ice cream cake. Then we quickly threw on coats, hats and shoes. I figured a long walk in the breezy warmish fall weather would help to tire him out a little bit. We ended going for an hour and 15 minute walk! That is longest he has ever gone and he biked most of the way!

Matthew was great. He rode along and chattered on about the new houses being built in our neighborhood. He talked about the wind, the storm clouds and the leaves. We picked up leaves for a little fall display I hoping to get done soon. We wandered down to the walking trail to see the horses. Matthew even pushed his own bike because he said the trail was too bumpy and talked about the other bikers and runners on the trail.

It was lovely fall evening for this kind of thing and he never once lost his temper and seemed to really enjoy himself. So much so that he did not want to turn around and go home. However, the storms clouds were getting closer which is not so much an issue - neither he nor I mind getting some rain on our heads. Mostly it was getting dark and I knew that Kevin would be home from work and wondering we had gone off to. We made it home ahead of the rain, barely.
The point of this story? No point, just that I thoroughly enjoyed a lovely fall walk with Matthew with little to no drama (okay he did make my heart pound when he said "weeeee" and went down the little hill onto the street... Ack...) and it was generally just a wonderful birthday day off! Hope your Monday was as wonderful!

PS: he still went to sleep at reasonable hour but woke up around ten to 6 (which is about a 1/2 hour earlier than he normally wakes up.) Likely the early wake up call had to do with enough rest between the regular night time sleep and the long nap which just re-enforces the fact that Matthew is on the perfect schedule at this point in time!

I am glad...

I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to have waited for another child - I have written about this in earnest and fear many times right here. I worried about "the right spacing" - that many people with a baby close in age to Matthew were already having a 2nd one. This waiting for another child was a conscious decision on our part. We wanted to be sure we wanted to try for a second baby. We wanted to be sure WE were ready for a second baby. But mostly I think we wanted to enjoy every nano second we have with Matthew. Okay, so I can only speak for myself on that last one.

There are other issues oft mentioned like child care, work and how our relationship would do with another baby. There is my own hang up about bringing another baby into this already well populated world with the dangers that seem so much more in your face then I remember them being as a child like war (even though I was born during the last waning months of one of the most horrific conflicts in modern history - Vietnam...), strange new diseases, child predators, and for me, the depths of fear I have over our environment and what will be left for my children or their children in the coming years.

The thing I have come to realize is that I am glad we have waited. Every moment has been so poignant with Matthew. I never felt I had to rush with him. I can vividly recall the moment he cut his 1st tooth, the blood on my fingers, the tears he cried, the realization he has not fallen over but cut that very 1st most exciting tooth. The way his little mouth changed over the months until he had all of his teeth. I can remember in detail his 1st frightening steps - lurching forward on that exact spot on the carpeted floor right by the little couch in our old house at 8-1/2 months. Kevin and I urging him forward and grabbing the video camera to record the momentous occurrence - I remember it as if it just happened seconds ago.

I can remember that soft cone shaped head with his downy, reddish, newborn hair, the impossibly tiny fingers and toes that, yes, I did count to be sure all ten were in the right place, even in my drug induced state. I remember the pain of labor even when I was the deepest depths of that process... I remember Matthew's 1st attempts at nursing and my feelings of terror at how to do it ALL. I remember his little Magoo face looking up at me with those deep blue eyes. I remember thinking how I wanted to slow down and speed up time those 1st days at home with Matthew. I remember each tender moment of nursing in the wee hours and no matter how much I might have complained they really were truly the precious times with him. I would stroke his little tiny head and lay my head back, feeling his warm little body nestled against my mid section and I felt so calm, so right. I often (day) dream about those lovely moments.

I also remember the terrible moments just as clearly. The times he would cry uncontrollably in the evening during those early first few weeks, colic? gas? We did not know but we did know that if we took him outside, his crying magically seemed to slip away on the wind. I remember the horrible cracked painful breasts I had for many months after giving birth, the mastitis 18 months in, the time I came home to the worst goose egg ever on his forehead and I was not there to comfort him. I am sure there were others...

I remember my mother told me at three weeks 'you need to get out, you need to do something.' But I just wanted to sit there and drink my baby in. I did not want to miss a moment with him. For me, waiting has been worth it because it has been a pleasure to know and remember each moment - to burn each memory in my mind's eye. For me, the past two and a half years have been dream like. Like the best dream you have ever had and you do not really want to wake up. It took me a long time to find myself since the birth of Matthew but I really just decided the day he was born that I wanted to cherish each moment as if it were our last because I could not imagine doing it any other way. I wanted to give myself over to this little baby wholly because that felt SO right, for me. I love my baby and I am SO grateful that he has become a part of my life. I am so glad that for the past 2 -1/2 years he has been the most wonderful dream I could have asked for.

I know this coming year we have different plans. The dreams will change. I am sure they will get better but I also know that this crazy, lovely little world that has been all Matthew's will slowly start to change for him and now I feel like this is the right time. The right time to give myself up to some other little being... That the world, the environment, being a working mother, life itself will work out just as wonderfully as it has the past two and a half years. I will have twice the wonderful dreams that I had before and that I am glad for, today.

You say it's your birthday...

Happy Birthday to me!

Yup, 34 today. Whew hoo! Ancient, eh? Its been a pretty good day. One peppermint mocha and one regular coffee. One OREO ice cream cake ( Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you... Mom you blow out those candle followed by a blowing noise and my candles going; also there might have been some spit on the cake as well - wanna come over and have some cake tomorrow?!) One great day with my family of doing a whole lot of nothing but the usual. One evening out with my husband at a nice restaurant! One very tired 34 year old right now.

Oh and one day off for me tomorrow. Triple quadruple HOORAY!

So close...

I like to cut it close on these weekend blog posts, eh? I will be glad when Nablo-whatever it is, is over so I can go back to my old life of only taking up my OH SO preccccious time at work to write my blog posts!

Not much to report or really to say. Saturday has been dazzling. I cut two inches of hair off so I look exactly the same as before...

Third acupuncture appt. was grand - the lovely Judy told me to get to a doctor STAT despite that fact that you all probably think I am lying about the twisted ankle TWICE now. My ankle really is rather large and swollen and there are two spots that hurt and have continued to hurt since the first "fall" down the stairs... SO I am sure I will get RIGHT on going to the doctor... Can you hear that? Yeah that is me laughing from my VERY COLD computer room.

I spent the afternoon with Matthew while my husband was out. That is all I will say about that. AND in all seriousness, I am not mad at him for being out drinking with the guys because that is so cool in my book... Really I am made at the fact that he told me be at BW3 to pick up at 4:00p SO I was. He could not get the cell phone turned on so he says. Which is fine too. BUT THREE OTHER PEOPLE WITH YOU HAD CELL PHONES! Hear that, that is my brain exploding. It sort of hurts. Actually I was mostly bummed because I was that close y'all... THAT close to the new car.

Yes, the Corolla appears to have "met its fate" - a rather quiet demise where the oil just sort of ran out of the place the oil is supposed to be, you know, all over our brand spankin' new drive way... I am sad to say good bye to the Corolla as it was my "first" big purchase all by myself as a grown up all of 22. I did a good job. The Corolla in question is a '94 and I think I paid something like $8k for in 1997 with about 25,000 miles on it. I think I did well in choosing a good long lasting EXTREMELY LOW maintenance care and now after 110,000 miles and 10 years, it is time to bid the little thing farewell...

I really am sad. See my Granny actually "bought" the car for me the year she passed away. My dad and uncle decided to avoid the pitfalls of death taxes by giving each grandchild their money in advance and reserved what was needed to take care of Granny. Granny was VERY well taken care of too, mind you. SO I paid that $8k in cash, I never had to take a loan out or make a car payment, ever!?!? How much does that rock at 22?!

Back to the main premise of this pathetic feel sorry for me NOW dammit post, we were supposed to go test drive the Honda CRV and Toyota Rav4 this afternoon and get a sense of which one we really wanted. THEN we were going to take Friday afternoon and buy the car we liked the most... It is likely this will not happen now. I have come to terms with this - that is okay. I thought about it - I felt we would have been rushed and Kevin would have been slightly boozy and I just would have been annoyed. Thus the new car will have to wait a few more weeks... such is life!

Off to laundry folding and more TV I go... And to get warm, it is like an ice box down yeesh (oh I will so LOVE to put the in laws down here next time BAH HAHAHAHAHA! I am kidding, seriously, I am KIDDING.)

The Gas We Pass

I should have known... that Matthew is truly a product of me. I have been known to have some issues with errr, ummm, how should I say it, GAS. Yeah so in college my roommates called me Stinky (or Stinks...) Why oh why am I admitting this to you all? WHY?! How embarrassing. Did I really just open this up to people once again calling me stinks? I actually do not have as many issues as I once did. Not sure if it was some weird 20 something issue or pregnancy but I HAVE changed, dammit, I have!

I actually think I discovered the culprit. It was being on THE PILL. I was off THE PILL for lord know how long what with being pregnant and nursing for 20 million months and than I just decided not to take THE PILL until I saw Liz for my yearly exam which fell in May on the 31st. She gave me my prescription and I happily trundled off to Kroger to have it filled. I was on THE PILL for exactly three months before I quit. Yes, I quit THE PILL because I realized "holy shit this is what makes me gassy!" And I feel much better, no gas, VIOLA! Of course like all humans I emit gas still but not like the past gas - just the normal every day garden variety gas... SO just for the record I am no longer stinky thus the name does not apply, PLEAAAAAAAASE!

Where am I going with this??? ACK, so with that said, my son woke up this morning with his usual charm and came shrieking down the hall having not learned the subtle quietude that the morning should bring as of yet. He was happy this morning. He requested the pear I was going to take to work for lunch which I happily obliged him and some granola cereal with raisins of course. He was all giggly and chatty. As I cut up the remainder of the pear for his eating pleasure - he looked over at me, turned REALLY red (and I thought OH LORD PLEASE do not make me clean him up from a poopy pull-up) and he FARTED! Then he giggled uncontrollably and said "I TOOTED, Mommy!" I just laughed out loud because Kevin and I were recently discussing (not within with hearing range of Matthew) how funny farts used to seem to us as children. I know, I know the depths of our conversations are amazing, huh?

I was also quite proud of Matthew for calling it a 'toot' versus a 'fart'. I thought for sure we were doing to be stuck with the word 'fart' when Kevin's dear sister bought this book... which is actually really cute and I get to make obnoxious noises with my mouth that Matthew imitates and it is really rather amusing - also this book lives in our bathroom which for some reason amuses me to no end... but COME ON people I am trying to teach this boy manners, manners you hear me!??!?

Also, for some odd reason I take issue with the word FART these days even though that is what I have call the emission of gas from one's body for most of my life, till now. Like toot will make it smell less? Who knows...

The depth my story telling astounds me. Ah, yeah so here's to FRIDAY!

Do you hear those sleigh bell jingling? Ring ting tingling YEAH...

I mentioned yesterday that I have my knickers all in a knot over Christmas shopping. Please just let me say that I know it is only November 8th. I know that Christmas is a whole 45 days away. That I should not have my knickers in a knot because, DUDE, that is a long way off. And, I do not have mass amounts of people to buy for and we are actually sort of mostly done with Matthew's shopping but I am still nervous and feeling on edge because the people I do have to buy stuff for:
#1 live far away so my 45 days is cut down to 30-35 days (for shipping) which is still a long time so (#2) these are the hardest people to buy for. It does help that I generally charge my husband with the task of buying gifts for his own family. I will not, do not, do in-law shopping as a general rule. Plus what I would buy and what Kevin actually buys are TWO totally separate things.

Reason #3 is really the crux of the matter: I am sort of a snob when it comes to gift buying to the point of paralyzing me into buying absolutely NOTHING. A good example of this: when I am in a group of people and someone asks me 'where do you want to eat?' I am like a bloody deer in head lights. My response usually goes like this "Ah ah ah, what do you like? I like anything? Hmm, ah... what do think of ah what do you like?" I am terrible at making decisive decisions, and try as I might to change this behavior I have come to the rousing conclusion that I am who I am (like Popeye... only less cartoon-ish... I think. Also, I am a woman and I do not have those biceps when I eat spinach. SHUTTING UP now...)

Reason #4 is also another reason to be a bit deer in the headlights-ish - my family tends to be a little er shall we say... ungrateful about gifts, no matter the cost or thoughtfulness surrounding the gift. If I had my druthers I would get everyone gift cards and be done with it. That way they can hem and haw over what it is THEY want to get but I know some people think gift cards can seem a little thoughtless, no? Maybe not so much any more but I think to my mother they would be... Not me, I love me a good gift card. It is like the gift that keeps on giving well into the new year some times! That I LOVE!

I am just feeling panicked because I have no clue where to begin. I guess a list would help, huh? Some organizational guide to gift buying? The plan really is this - make a list, check it twice, go shopping this weekend and maybe, oh lawdy help me, the weekend of Thanksgiving & the 1st weekend in December (that will be a desperate weekend... I will be tense and not nice...) and hope that I can figure out what to get everyone on those two or three shopping expeditions because I have to go to Detroit next weekend and our Christmas party (WAHOO) for work in the 2nd weekend of December (at the Conrad BABY!) The weekend of the 15-16... ohmigawd, I will SO be hyperventilating if I am still shopping that weekend and than HOLY SHIT one more weekend after that before Santa arrives.

Is this whole post making any of the rest of you break out into hives? Hmm, okay maybe not.... Suggestions welcome!! (web sites, stores, catalogs with cool gifts for 13 year old girls, 68 year old artsy moms, workaholic dads & brothers, and even something for a totally impossible to buy for husband - WOULD HE MAKE HIS LIST ALREADY!?!?)

The hysteria has begun, I am sorry you are witness to this, my total breakdown over a damn holiday (and I thought I coming to love this holiday...)