Past, Present, and Future

Forgive me... this may ramble a bit.

Facebook has put me in touch with some people from my past who, in many cases, I had never expected to hear from again. It has made me reflect a great deal on my past lately--who I really am, and how I became that person. I've often wondered if I made good decisions in my life, and if those decisions really led me down the right path. Honestly, more often I've wondered how I got so freaking lucky that I DID make the right decisions, and I didn't end up married to evil emotionally destructive boyfriend from my mid-twenties or Navy guy from my college days. And I really love looking back at events in my life and seeing how they shape decisions I make today.

It takes many women a long time to come to terms with who they are and actually love themselves. I've been fortunate, in that I've been surrounded my whole life by friends who are supportive and real. I have managed to avoid a large amount of backstabbing, catfighting, and mudwrestling. (Sorry... but I wanted to be sure my male readers were still with me).

Anyway, as I reconnect with people who I have known for a TERRIBLY long time... who knew me before I learned to love myself and before I had really formed my own identity... I am amazed at how well they actually do know me. My inner core really hasn't changed that much. And as I am prodded to remember a moment from first grade (which I still remember SO clearly it's frightening)... just one moment when I first met someone... I marvel at how I can recall my little six-year-old mind processing what was happening, and my ability to realize that this person I was meeting... this was a good person. And this person would mean something to me later in my life. Even though I had no concept of what my life would be.

I see it in my kids too. I see their inner core. I watch them process new information and explore the world to figure out where they fit in. It's magical. And the perspective it gives on my own life... it's hard to explain. I am so excited to see what they choose. I'm fearful, yes, but I see their hearts right now... their true selves. And I love what I see. With hearts like theirs, I know it is all going to be just fine.

From The Answering Machine of...

Please note that the following message is based on an actual call. Some items have been embellished or paraphrased to offer the gentle reader some context and to enhance the humor, but all-in-all, it was a pretty damn funny message on its own.

Sunday, March 9, 5:30pm
Hi, uh... Elizabeth. This is Kathryn. First, thanks for having us over on Friday evening. As always, we had a great time, and it was fun to laugh over Megan's imaginary illness. Bummer that kept us from seeing The Other Boleyn Girl together, but what can you do?
So, um... about that imaginary illness... you know... those dots that daycare thought was a rash but the doctor said were just dots? Well, as it turns out, Megan does have Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. It's pretty contagious. So, uh... sorry. *click*

Possession is Nine-Tenths

Last night we had a little dinner party. The family that came over includes Mommy, Daddy, Son Age 7, and Twins Age 4. Ellie is one half of the fraternal twins and the poor thing lives with two brothers, so when she and Athena get together, it's girl-stuff galore.

Several things happened that made us laugh. One was that the girls got into Athena's closet (on which I have a child-proof door-knob thingy on to keep her out) and they romped through all her clothes that don't fit, her dress-up clothes, and her flip flops. Ever since then, she has been wanting to wear her sandles (despite the cold weather) and can't understand why I had them locked up.

Later, big brother reported back to us that Athena was painting Ellie's fingernails. AACK!, says I. Chris went up to check it out and found that Athena was A) almost done, B) had insisted on laying a washcloth under Ellie's hands, and C) had done a REALLY good job. She's going to do mine next week. Heckuva lot cheaper than going to the Nail Cafe down the street.

Finally, the best moment, which had little to do with Ellie, actually, was a dinner conversation we overheard. Here is is recreated for you:

Ellie: Athena, what does your name start with?
Athena: A
Ellie: Oh
Athena: And MY Aiden starts with an A too!
Ellie: *blink*
Athena: Not Callie's Aiden, right, Mom? MY Aiden. Aiden is not Callie's.
Me: Meow.

Paaaaaar Tay!

Well, it's just like I'm 21 all over again. This weekend, I had THREE, count 'em, THREE parties to attend. On Friday, I went to the retirement soiree of a library employee. Tonight, I dragged the whole family to Jen's going away party with the old library crew (although she's not going far... just to be a reference librarian at a local women's college), and tomorrow we are going to a Superbowl party. PLUS I am working this weekend. Whew! I am way too old for this.

I seriously cannot remember the last time I had three engagements in one weekend. I'm all a-twitter. Granted, two were sort of work-related, but they have been fun. If this keeps up, I'll have to get an agent to schedule my bookings!

Hmmmm... that made it sound like I'm jumping out of the cake at these functions, didn't it?

How to Lose Friends and Piss People Off

So we went over to Aiden's house tonight. It's been a long time since we've given the little munchkins a playdate, and Kathryn and I have long weekends this week (YAY government jobs!) so we figured we would have the energy. Upon planning this fiesta, we determined that we should do it at her place, since I had just had her over for a Pampered Chef party Friday night (at which she bought stuff... so it's not like I didn't get anything in return). But... since her place is so much cleaner than ours, I like to go there. It's like going on vacation.

Too bad we can never go back.

It all started innocently enough. Marcus was cute. Aiden and Athena played outside. The boys cooked on the grill (well, John cooked... Chris hung out) while they watched the football game. Kathryn and I lounged about (she's pregnant, and I get to lounge by default) while we watched Marcus eat Goldfish crackers and play with a Barrel of Monkeys (Best. Toy. Ever.). We ate dinner, we enjoyed each others' company, and the kids were generally very good. Even ours.

After dinner, Kathryn and I headed to Fresh Market to forage for dessert. Came back to find Athena shedding her pants. "Do you need to go potty?" I asked, expecting the normal, "NO!" Instead, she went and got a book, and trotted off to the bathroom. SWEET! Doesn't sound bad yet? Just wait.

She actually went to the potty... signaling that this evening was going WAY too well to last. We changed Marcus' stinky diaper and got him into pajamas (which is very similar to catching a greased pig, incidentally). Chris made him a bottle, and I sat down in one of those really deep chairs (with ottoman) to feed him while Chris moved back to the alter (HUGE flat-screen tv on which a football game was transpiring) in the den. John and Kathryn set about cutting the cake and distributing it. That's when Athena seized her moment.

The next bit was all slow motion to me. I'll try to portray it as I saw it.

Marcus is happily guzzling his bottle. I watch his cute little cheeks puffing at the effort.
I glance up.
I see Athena on a stool in front of the fish tank.
I see her arm go up.
I start to try to get up from the chair.
I see her lift the lid.
I start to sternly admonish, "nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"
Her other arm goes up.
Oh my God, it's the fish food!
"oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"
Dump - oh yes... the whole thing
Fish go apeshit.
John and Kathryn turn to see what she has done. I can't even lie about it now, as there she stands, one hand on the fishtank lid, the other clutching the empty canister of fish food.

Athena... completely unaware that she has probably just killed about eight fish, goes to play with Aiden's cool helmet with the microphone in it. I realize that there is absolutely nothing in my skill set that I can do to make this better. I eat cake instead.

Meanwhile, John and Kathryn are rushing about trying to get the fish into some clean water so they (read: John) can clean the tank. Meanwhile, Marcus fills ANOTHER diaper and I have no more with me (who knew the boy would need two diapers in thirty minutes? I suppose most mothers would prepare... but not me). Fortunately, Kathryn has an extra in his size. So not only do we kill their fish (the fish are not actually dead... yet... please keep them in your thoughts and prayers) but we deplete their diaper supply. I believe I owe them a box of diapers by now, as this happens about every third time we come over. And soon, I may owe them a tank of fish.

And I wondered why it had been so long since we last got together. I expect they'll be calling us again, say, when Athena is in college.

The One In Which the Mommy Librarian Is a Schmuck

I totally stood up my friend Jen tonight for our drink night. I never stand up Jen. Partially because I rarely see Jen. I just have been so wrapped up in my week that, even though it is clearly marked on my calendar, I forgot.

Part of my excuse is that I keep thinking that I'm a day behind. On Monday, I had a short day that consisted of some training, some futile running around town, and then home with the family. Seemed more like a Sunday. So on Tuesday, I kept thinking it was Monday; on Wednesday, I thought it was Tuesday; and today, I thought it was Wednesday. On top of that, Jen and I usually get together for drinks on Friday, but we've been unable to because of other plans cropping up on both sides. Tonight was sort of a "make-up" drink night. And I blew it.

Actually, five more minutes, and Jen would have called to find me in bed. I'm exhausted. I was ready to jump up, change back into real clothes and head out to meet her, but she gave me the option of rescheduling, so I did.

Still, I'm a schmuck. Friends don't stand up friends. And I have stood someone up. The guilt weighs heavy on my heart. And it's a double-whammy. No hanging out with Jen. No drinks. Talk about sucky.

For penance, I shall have to eat as many fried things as possible at the opening day of the State Fair tomorrow. I hear they are serving up fried Coca-Cola this year. Keep me in your thoughts...

Jackson Harold, You Are a Bum

Jack, you need to fix your voicemail, dude. I tried to call you when I said I would, and I just get this weird voice mail. So don't be complaining that I never call. I do... but I don't seem to have the number right.

Or... you just have an annoying voice mail message.

Either way, I can't seem to reach you, so I am posting this for EVERYONE to see. Now we all know that I do... indeed... call you. Nyah.

Lounge Lizard

When I notice that a bar or restaurant has live entertainment, I frequently pass it by. This is especially odd considering I used to want to BE an entertainer. But the problem I have with live performance is that it is usually too loud, too amateurish, or just too uninteresting.

In the last week, I've been to two eating/drinking establishments where live entertainment was provided. The first was on a weeknight, when the family trekked up to the local pizza joint for a quick meal. Unbeknownst to us, they had a live vocalist, and as he set up, I imagined that soon we would be unable to hear a darn thing, including our own screams as we ran from the place.

However, we were really pleasantly surprised. His vocals to music ratio was wonderful, and he had a smooth, easy voice that leant itself very well to the Sinatra covers he was doing. All in all, a big thumbs up for the live entertainment!

With this experience, I decided not to flee when Jen and I met at the Peak City Grill and Bar for our "every-four-weeks-on-the-Friday-night-we-used-to-work-together" post-work drinks rendez-vous. There was a live singer -- a woman this time -- with her karaoke machine, and although she was a bit loud, I wasn't scared. I decided to stick it out. Besides, I got free beer last time. You don't just abandon a joint like that because some chick is warbling out a tune or two.

For the most part, we were able to ignore her, but as it got later, she got bolder. No... not bolder... weirder. I was terrified to realize that she was singing Out Here On My Own from the musical movie sensation of the seventies, Fame. Anyone who has ever auditioned for a high school or community theater production has heard this song at least five times. It has to be one of the most popular audition songs ever, along with Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid. This is because every girl between the ages of 9 and 18 thinks she sounds good singing these songs. I was one of those girls. And now I know WHY we all think we sound good singing them. They have about five notes between them, and they are all within our vocal range. In fact, I think 50% of MEN could sing both those songs and stay on key. They are comparable to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, only more annoying.

And there she was... the live entertainment in a bar in downtown Apex, singing that horrid audition song. And guess what. She was flat. She sang other stuff okay, but she was FLAT singing the seventies' equivalent to Row, Row, Row Your Boat. So it was annoying and flat. Like a bad tire.

But wait, there's more. She followed it with Get Down, Boogie Oogie Oogie. And then she had to round out her seventies set with a song from the Broadway Musical (and now a major Motion Picture) Chicago. I love this show. I directed it in college. I know every line and every number. The show has some great songs that lend themselves well to lounge acts. All That Jazz, Mr. Cellophane, and even My Own Best Friend. However, she chose none of these songs. She chose When You're Good To Mama. If you've seen the movie, it's Queen Latifah's number.

Let me see if I can come up with a good analogy here. Picking this song from this musical to perform in a bar is akin to picking, say, The Lonely Goatherder from The Sound of Music. Sure, it's a catchy little fun tune... but take it out of its context, and it's just downright odd.

I'm going back to avoiding live music.

I Don't Take the Cake

Wednesday is Kathryn's birthday. (Happy Birthday, woman!) Today, Chris went to a friend's house to geek out. So... I called Kathryn yesterday to see if she and John and Aiden wanted to indulge in a Dream Dinner with me tonight. When she accepted, I also offered to make a cake for her birthday, assuming all went well today. We left the location up in the air (her place or mine) because I am so self-conscious about my messy home (not enough to do anything about it, mind you.)

So this morning, I chose a cake to make and sent Chris to the store for the ingredients. While Chris was gone, John called and asked if we could do this at their place. I was about to protest... as I would have to bring a cake and dinner and two kids without Chris' assistance... but then I thought several things: 1) I'm a whiner, 2) My house is a disaster, 3) Their house is NOT a disaster, 4) I can bake the cake here, but then actually decorate it there, so it wouldn't be as hard to transport, and 5) It IS Kathryn's birthday... so we should do this wherever she wants. I agreed, and planned my attack.

I packed extra clothes/diapers/bottles, etc. for the kids and then I baked the cake. Without getting into huge detail, the cake was a bit unstable as it had not yet been trimmed (baked in a bowl -- it resembled a Weeble), so I tried to Cling Wrap it to the plate. Then I made the tragic decision of the afternoon. I carried the cake out to the car in one hand, and the diaper bag in the other while hoping Athena wouldn't run out into the street. Let me just say that Weebles do, indeed, fall down when balanced on a plate about four feet off the ground. Let me also say that if you have never dropped a cake from such a distance, you should try it. It's pretty explosive. And finally, let me say that I have the happiest squirrels in the neighborhood. Not too many get to sample a Devil's Food cake.

So I showed up at my friend's house without cake, but with a Dream Dinner. Tonight was Pecan Crusted Chicken, and once again, Dream Dinners came through. To quote Kathryn, it was "scrumptious." Plus, their neighbors brought over chocolate chip cookies. So dessert was provided after all. Chris joined us after his game and we had a lovely evening watching the start of the Panthers game amid the delightful screams of two toddlers. Marcus just hung out in the bouncer seat and watched. No cake, but a good time anyway.

My Life... Doesn't Suck

So I have this great circle of blogging buddies. some I know personally, others only through cyberspace. All of them seem to be hitting some sort of trauma this week. Perhaps it's a job, perhaps it's marriage, perhaps it's keeping their blog a secret for well over a year and finally facing discovery...

So I'm here to say... well... sheesh... nothing really. There is totally nothing wrong with my life right now. I mean, Chris doesn't like his job, but he's still suffering through it for the greater good until he can get something better. But other than that... all is peachy.

Even with our huge financial woes... things are looking up. My biggest stress this week comes from the fact that I am delivering three performance evaluations to three good employees. Um... yeah... can we say, "Totally irrelevant compared to cheating husbands and crappy jobs?!"

So I have to wonder... is an axe about to fall? Do I need to prepare myself? Or am I just the luckiest person in the world right now? For those of you suffering horrible, horrible days and nights... I'm here for you. If nothing else, I can be a shoulder while my world remains intact. :-)

A Star Is Born... Late

Hooray! Cathy and Kevin had a baby boy on Sunday... and he was only a few days late. (Typical male behavior, right?!) Labor wasn't really storybook, but it wasn't bad either. (Easy for me to say).

Ian Thomas was close to 8 pounds and he was around 20 inches long. All are home now and resting... as much as one can rest with a newborn.

Congrats to Mommy Cathy and Daddy Kevin! Let us know when you are all adjusted so we can bring our brood up to completely throw you off again!

What Do You Do When You Have No Money?

We're broke. Totally.

Tomorrow, I'm getting a pedicure.

I love gift certificates. To all of you who have given them to me, I love you. My feet love you. And my coworkers love you, since they don't have to listen to me whine about not being able to treat myself to something once in a while.

Stuff

Well, the new disposable bottles didn't work out. Not at all. They made Marcus miserably gassy. I mean, REALLY gassy. Like cry-and-scream-for-an-hour gassy. It's a real pisser as I had already purchased my full stock of them before they started making him the world's grumpiest baby. So I'm back to the expensive Dr. Brown's bottles, and I'm out about $30. Nice, eh?

We saw Pirates of the Caribbean tonight with Aiden's parents. The kids stayed home with a sitter, as the content of this movie isn't really suitable for kids. Of course, that didn't stop some parents from bringing their little ones, but not everyone is as perfect in the parenting department as we are. I completely enjoyed myself. Many buckles were swashed. And how Depp makes those horrible teeth sexy I will never understand. But he does. *sigh*

Experienced a surreal parade in downtown Apex that was staged for a documentary on NHL fans or something. We just stumbled upon it. There were a handful of people there to be on camera. We, on the other hand, just ducked into a restaurant.

Made cookies today. I love making cookies. Makes me feel so "Donna Reed." And then later, it makes me feel fat.

Jason and Bernie stopped by today. We miss having Jason so close by since he moved to Charlotte, and we haven't been able to spend a lot of time with Bernie, since they married after he moved away. Although they knew each other when he lived here, she lived half-way around the world. So it wasn't until they married that she moved here. Anyway, it was good to see them. And they lavished gifts on Marcus. I have hidden the gifts for when Marcus is older and can defend them from his sister, who would claim them as hers in a heartbeat.

We saw one of my sorority sisters last night, along with her husband and their two boys. I have only barely kept in touch with her since I graduated, but we finally arranged to get together for dinner and general backyard mayhem for her kids and ours. It was truly an enjoyable evening.

So all totaled, we spent the weekend with three different sets of friends from three different phases of our lives. I knew Heather in college, then Chris knew Jason from work in the early part of our marriage, and then finally I know Kathryn from my current job. A weekend like this makes me consider how lucky I am to have the friends I have. Let's face it, I can be downright grumpy and hard to deal with from time to time, and yet I have friends who stick with me through many many many many years. In fact, in my circle of closest friends, I count people who I have known from as far back as 8th grade. Really impressive that they even still talk to me considering what a royal diva bitch I was in high school.

So let that be a lesson to you, new friends! Once we're friends, you can never get rid of me! Mwuahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

If this becomes the plot of the next big horror movie, I'm suing. And I'm totally sharing the settlement with my poor friends who put up with me.

Loved Ones: A Cathartic Stream-of-Consciousness Post

Lately, the theme of friends and family has been pushing itself into the front of my brain. Tempura73 just posted about her family being two days away in Malaysia. My husband has been learning a lot about his family (he isn't even sure how old he was when his parents divorced, so he obviously has a lot to study), and I learned that I will not be able to go to Seattle before my maternity leave is up to see my sister and two very good friends who I NEVER get to see (as they live in Washington, which is VERY far away from North Carolina for those of you who failed Jessey's Geography Test). I also had a wonderful visit with Sophie, but that only proved that Charlotte can seem as far away from me as Washington State is. And even my local friends are wrapped up in work and other personal issues (Jamie, I'm thinking of you... we need to do lunch soon), that I simply can't connect with them as much as I should.

So all these things make me think of how lucky I am to have such a wonderful family and circle of friends, and that makes me wonder why I feel sad to think about them. Is it a fear of losing someone? Is it just lonliness from being surrounded by a baby all day? Or is it the empty-brain syndrom I have from lack of sleep?

This morning, I was up at the right time so that I could get the baby fed and situated before Chris and Athena headed downstairs for breakfast. I have not eaten breakfast with them on a weekday since before Marcus was born. This morning, I was not only able to make Athena breakfast (pouring cereal counts, right?), but I was able to eat my breakfast with them AND I was able to pack a lunch for Chris. Then, when Chris got home, I made dinner for us all for the SECOND night in a row! The satisfaction I gained from doing something for Chris and Athena -- as domestic as it was -- was downright intoxicating.

I also saw several of my work friends today, as Marcus and I attended a baby shower at our administrative offices. I have great friends at work, and I was having so much fun visiting that I didn't want to leave when they all headed into a meeting after the shower.

My mother and her best friend each attended funerals this weekend - for different people. One of the people who died was 44. She had cancer. And a 13-year-old son. Cancer runs in my family. It runs in Chris' as well. In fact, Chris' father had it four times before it finally emerged victorious. Needless to say, I don't like cancer very much.

So why this blathering? I don't know. I'm just glad to have so many loved ones, and I don't want anything bad to happen to them. Y'all take care of yourselves, okay?

Who Am I?

I am completing an application that asks the following:

If your friends could state two adjectives to describe you, what would they be?

Well, geez... I'm not my friends... so what would YOU guys say? Be honest. After all, you all may pick different adjectives, so I can pick the ones I like best. But at least I would know that a friend really WOULD call me that...

(Hmmmm... perhaps "Honest" and "Lazy" may be the two words I should use).

Oh, and new friends and blog buddies are welcome to reply too. Don't hold back. First/Early impressions are often the best.

An Update From the Mommy

Well, here we are, entering Week Four of my maternity leave. Can you believe it? Marcus is three-weeks old, and at the end of the week, I'm half-way through my bonding period with my son. Astonishing. It's flying by. And here is an example of why...

Last Wednesday, I had my first "visitor who brings dinner." This is the best kind of visitor to have, except for the "visitor who cleans your house" or the "visitor who offers to babysit both kids so you and your husband can have a real grown-up conversation and remember why you actually fell in love." But the latter visitors are rare, so I doubly appreciate the one who brings me dinner. One of my coworkers (remember how nice they are?!) brought us a lovely roasted chicken with various tasty sides and a delicious Boston Creme Pie. I'm withholding her name since I didn't get her permission, but her initials are BH for those "in the know" of who I work with. Not only did she bring dinner, but she stayed and enjoyed it with us, giving me some much needed female company, and she helped do the dishes, and THEN she helped us with bath time! Great food, great help... all in all... just great! Thanks, BH!



On Friday, I received an email from an old Dialog coworker. She has apparently been training for, and has now completed, her first Triathlon! Wow! Kudos, Ms. Lila! You rock!




This weekend, we went to Greensboro to see Grandma and experience Bunny Day at the Natural Science Center. There were many bunnies to see, and several to pet. Athena was delighted. Marcus napped in the front pack. Then we went to PieWorks (gourmet pizza) and I made a huge pig of myself. Delightful!

Sunday we had a playdate with Aiden. Today, I went to a meeting regarding a franchise opportunity that I am VERY interested in. Won't say more about it now, but something is a simmerin'.

Looking ahead into this week, tomorrow I go to Greensboro again with Marcus to see my mom and get a haircut. Same guy has been doing my hair since I was 13. Why change now? Just because he is 75 miles away... no need to go through that whole "new relationship" thing with a new guy, right? Women are strongly loyal to their hairdressers. It's not just me, I know it. (And Jessey, if you have a hairdresser 75 miles away as well, it's just going to completely freak me out).

Wednesday, Marcus and I hope to go to Charlotte to visit with Sophie and brand new Elise. After all, friends who nurse together, suffer together! Thursday I have a dentist appointment (joy of joys). Then perhaps Friday, while my mother-in-law is here, Chris will take me on a date. We are (well, I am) desperately in need of a little alone time and a little romance. Our tempers have been mighty short lately, what with no sleep and all, and it will be nice to talk to each other in a civilized manner. I asked him last week if he would take me out on a date (a bit unconventional, but we're married, so it's okay) and so now I'm hoping that he can muster the energy to actually plan something and follow through. Neither one of us are high on energy lately.

Whew! And thus will end Week Four of my maternity leave. Where is it all going? And how am I finding time to do any of this stuff?! I'm off to bed now. Marcus has been asleep for a precious half hour, and I need to capitalize on this time. It's weird going to bed when it's light out, but it's even weirder to get up and change and feed your baby at 1am. Sleep is good. Oh, how I miss it.

Random Props and Apologies

First and foremost, hooray for Sophie, who managed to give birth to her beautful daughter Elise three days late, and she was still just over 6 pounds. Kudos! Chris claims it is taking all his strength to keep me from driving down to see you, but the truth is, I'm fully aware of how little you want a three-week old in your house waking you up whenever your own three-day-old is actually letting you sleep. I'm crazy, but I'm not mean. :-) However, I'm waiting for any and every call you want to make, whatever time of day or night. I've been there, girl... it's a bumpy road.

Second, my apologies to all my blog buddies. I have been very slack about leaving comments on your blogs, even though I read them all, and I occasionally have something witty to say. Chris tends to comment with whatever I would have said in many cases, but I didn't want you to think I was ignoring you. I often read your blogs while nursing Mr. Man, and that makes typing rather difficult. So apologies, and thanks for making me laugh at a time when I might just otherwise be driving my head into a brick wall.

Adventures in Babysitting

The last few days have been interesting. I'm so pleased that I'm able to get out of the house, and it's turned out to be about once a day, which is LOVELY. Yesterday was especially fun, because I took the little guy (also known as Senor Senor Junior) with me. We had a blast. Well, not a blast maybe, but I got him home alive and well. And that really is all you can ask of me thus far.

First, my friend Jamie came to visit. She spent her lunch break and then some with us, as she came into work way too early and had some time to kill. It was great to see her, and it was just as great to have a visitor. I hope to have more visitors starting next week when Chris goes back to work (hint, hint to all of you who are within driving distance of my house) as I will be completely lonely. Marcus is cute and all, but he is not much of a conversationalist. Most of the vocalizing he does occurs as he is about to poop. And that's only grunts and whimpers. Although it is kind of funny...

Anyway, when Jamie left, I gathered up my Short Term Disability (or STD - ha!) paperwork, the diaper bag, and I grabbed a bottle of water as I was already thirsty. (Breastfeeding means that you drink water pretty much constantly. I haven't NOT been thirsty since before Senor Senor Jr. was born.) I plopped my gear in the car, then grabbed His Highness and clicked him into his carseat. As we hit the road, I looked down and realized I left the freaking bottle of water on the dining room table. ARGH! No matter... we could stop and get one along the way.

I get almost to the doctor's office, and realize that I never checked to be sure the stroller was in the boot of the car. Fortunately, the new stroller we purchased is large enough to be seen in satellite images of the Earth, so one glance in my rear view assured me it was, indeed, there. Whew! The lady with the "H" word wasn't going to have to carry 9 pounds of baby and 20 pounds of car seat up to the doctor's office. Hooray!

Paperwork drop-off complete, we headed into town for the main purpose of our trip... a bra fitting. Well, MY main purpose. Marcus isn't so much interested in bras for himself. Along the way, I get the notion that a milkshake would be FAR better than water, and I map myself to the closest fast-food restaurant with decent shakes. Unfortunately, McDonalds was the only restaurant that wouldn't take me way off the beaten path... except for Wendy's, but Frosty's require a spoon, and I was interested in keeping both hands on the wheel as much as possible.

So we go to my LEAST favorite McDonald's in Cary. It is my least favorite because many of the patrons, good Cary residents that they are, are egocentric morons who can't figure out how to queue up for a drive-thru window. The design of the parking lot has many a Cary driver refusing to drive AROUND the building, and therefore they start a second line that often extends out into a street. Hard to explain here, but if you are familiar with this Mickey D's, you know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, I didn't think this would be a problem as I was going there at 2:50 in the afternoon. I give you the exact time, because it features in to the story in a moment. I pull up, and sure enough, a good citizen of Cary cuts me off from the wrong entrance of the restaurant and gives me yet another car wait for my tasty (sort of) treat. Oh, but it gets better.

After about five minutes, I realize we aren't moving. It's 2:55 pm and I have not advanced in the line AT ALL. there were SIX cars ahead of me. Can we say "late lunch?" THEN I finally inch forward and cut-me-off-at-the-drivethru woman starts placing her order. I can hear her, because both our windows are open and she has a voice that could cut glass two counties away.

"Is your ice cream machine working today?" (A valid question, I think, as if I hear a crackly "No," I too can just high-tail it out of there)

"Yes," the voice crackles back.

"Well, what do you have that's not a sundae?" the voice of anti-matter asked. (Are you kidding me?! It's McDonald's! Not Baskin Robbins!)

Crackly voice says, very politely I might add, "Well, there are milkshakes, and there is the Flurry."

"Flurry? What's that?" (To which I would like to say, "You SOUND like an American citizen. Do you seriously not know what a Flurry is?)

"Well, it's like a shake, only it has stuff stirred in... like M&Ms."

--Mind you, all this time, my son is napping happily in the car, and I know this is just killing precious nap time before he awakens and wants to eat again.--

"Is it on your menu out here? I don't see it!" (The drivethru only has a partial menu, moron... you are expected to know the entire menu by heart before you can graduate from High School. We do have our standards in North Carolina, you know. Mc'D's menu is right up there with passing SAT scores...)

"It's on our menu, ma'am, yes."

"The one out here? Where? I don't see it!"

--At this point, I closed my window and considered just leaving, but decided it wasn't worth sacrificing a milkshake. After all, this couldn't take too much longer.--

Short story long, cut-me-off-at-the-drivethru finally decided on something to order, and it was my turn at the order speaker. I ordered quickly and efficiently, and the crackly voice seemed to be well-organized and pleasant. So I expected it would only be seconds before I had my milkshake in hand. Alas... I did not move again for another five minutes. I finally DID receive my milkshake at 3:15. TWENTY-FIVE minutes in the drivethru at McDonald's in the MIDDLE of the afternoon.

I headed in to the hospital, my final destination. Rex Hospital has a Women's Resource Center also known as "The Lactation Station" where you can purchase (or rent in some cases) anything related to pregnancy and nursing. They carry the best nursing bras in town, and they have people certified to do bra fittings who are also real nurses and know what breastfeeding is all about.

Sure enough, as soon as we got there, Marcus woke up and wanted to eat. Fortunately, I'm in a place called "Lactation Station," so I found a comfy chair and he tucked right in. The nurse/shopkeeper approached and oohed and aahed in the general direction of my baby's head. This is where it gets weird.

She came right up and lifted up my shirt so she could see the action! Yipes! Fortunately, I knew she was a nurse and therefore didn't scream for security, but it was a bit weird all the same. She also saved herself with the first thing that came out of her mouth... "What an incredibly handsome little guy!" Okay, that does it for me. Compliment my baby with sincerity, and you have a friend for life. Watch all you want, lady.

Then, she told me that we were basically the poster children of breastfeeding. She described everything he was doing and why our technique was "spot on." She threw around technical terms like "hind-milk" and "Second Letdown." Sounds weird to the average Joe, I'm sure, but let me tell you, as someone who only recently was able to embrace her inner cow, I was pretty flattered. I mean, this lady is an expert!

She also guessed that Marcus was a month old at least. At first, I thought maybe it was because she spends so much time working with preemies and their mom's and therefore has lost perspective of how big a full-term baby is. But then she talked about how tall he was and guessed his weight fairly accurately. So I guess he's bigger than I thought.

After His Majesty's meal, we got down to the measuring and shopping. I was horrified to learn my new chest size (I won't reveal it here, but I will say that I rank second now among my friends for biggest maternity rack. I'm into letters I didn't know corresponded with bra sizes). The nurse coddled Marcus while I tried on about 8 bras. I selected three, and good old cluster-feeding Marcus wanted to eat again to get rid of a nasty case of the hiccups. This time, the nurse set me up in one of their lactation rooms with a rocking chair, foot stool, changing table, and a machine that looked to me like a modern iron lung. Turns out that machine is a hospital grade breast pump. EEK! My little electric pump doesn't look nearly so bad now. Wait, nevermind. Yes it does.

Soon, we were headed home, three bras richer but $100 poorer. Marcus screamed until I found disco on the radio (his dad is not thrilled with his musical taste thus far) and we made the rest of the trip home without incident.

Finally, after much hemming, hawing, and general irritability, Athena decided to stay home with me last night rather than going with Dad to the hockey game. Fortunately, Marcus slept until after she went to bed, and she was more docile than usual. I swear I don't know how people do it... have a newborn and a toddler and care for them alone day in and day out. I suppose I could do it if I had to, but thankfully, I don't have to.

So that was my day. Long post? Yes. But I had to make up for all my short little ones!

The Baby Shower

I was not expecting any sort of baby shower this time around. After all, it's a second baby, and we really do have most everything we need. Thanks to the fact that all my friends only seem to produce boys (except Brian and Sophie, who will now get all of Athena's old clothes), I have enough clothes to dress triplets. And of course I still have a stroller, baby blankets, toys, bouncy seats, etc. from Athena.

However, the women I work with are so wonderful and caring and social that they insisted on throwing a shower for me this time too. Let it be known that I started my job at the library when I was eight months pregnant with Athena, and they still threw me a little shower then. They didn't even KNOW me very well, but there was a huge box of pampers and all sorts of little baby things (incluing so much bath soap that I will probably be able to pass some of THAT on to something as well) sitting in the break room one day with a big sign and a cake.

So tonight, we gathered at a local restaurant after work and ate dinner and opened gifts. Chris and Athena were also invited and it made it even more wonderful to have them there. The ladies made some suggestions for names, many of which we had already talked about. Still no decision though. *sigh*

Anyway, we were given many books (no surprise there) and bibs and a blanket and pacifiers... all those things that are rather disposable... which means we can really use them. We were also given a couple of gift certificates to Target, which is an extra bonus for us because we live near a SuperTarget, so we can actually buy groceries with those... not just fun Target stuff. :-) Oh, and diapers... we do need diapers. But perhaps my favorite gift was a one-hour massage for me! YAY! I believe I will save that for a few weeks after the baby is born. I can lie on my stomach then, and I can get a deep tissue massage, which many people recommend you not do while pregnant.

So really, a lovely evening all around. We had a wonderful time, and folks were so generous. I am truly blown away by how nice the people I work with are. Guess I should get to those thank you notes...

A Look at Lent

I am not Catholic. Having said that, I feel perfectly comfortable exploring the vast mystery of Lent. Today, I was listening to a very interesting essay about Lent on NPR. Perhaps you heard it. I believe it was on All Things Considered.

Basically, a guy (a Catholic guy) was sitting in a bar with his Jewish college buddies several weeks before Lent. Somehow, the topic of Lent came up and he explained that you choose to give up something sort of as a representation of penance. He went on to explain that you are spiritually preparing for Easter, blah, blah, blah. His Jewish friends were fascinated by this, but they thought it was odd that folks would choose their own penance. "Wouldn't it make more sense," one of them wondered, "if someone else chose your penance for you?"

This fellow thought about it and realized... yes, that does indeed make a lot of sense. After all, if you WANT the cross to bear, it isn't much of a cross to bear, is it? So he agreed to let his buddies pick what he would sacrifice during that upcoming Lent.

His buddies went easy on him. They deliberated over many things, and threw out beer as a possibility right away, because after all, giving up beer would be impossible. Finally, they decided he should give up orange soda, which was what he subsisted on normally for those late night study sessions.

How brilliant is this? If you are going to celebrate Lent, what a great idea to have a friend choose for you! What a real challenge that would be. It worked so well for this guy, that his buddy called him every year way past college to tell him what his penance was that year. (One year, it was oregano, which must have been kind of like telling someone not to eat salt.)

Anyway, I'm not a super-religious person, but I certainly see how this sort of exercise could be spiritually rewarding. So since I don't actually observe Lent myself, let me know if you would like me to tell you what you should give up for the next six weeks. I'm happy to do it!