I’m home from my night at Bunko, and I feel so strange. You’ll have to forgive this post, I am sure it will be very disjointed and weird. I know I’m not the best writer on the best of days, so when I get all introspective and self-examining, it’s more like I just have to vomit the thoughts running through my head onto the page so that they’re out there to pick and sift through and maybe get to the bottom of my weird neuroses.

I actually came home, wandered through the house, climbed into bed and lay there for 15 minutes before getting up and coming into my office to write this. I kept composing this entry in my head and finally I could tell I wasn’t going to sleep until I purged it out of my head by actually writing.

Of course now that I’m here I don’t know what to write.

I sailed home from work in fine spirits, picked up Ethan, we stopped at Lowes, then called up James and we all met up at IHOP for an impromptu dinner out with the family. It was nice. We only take the kids to a few restaurants, and pancakes are always good to go.

As my bunko night approached though, my spirits kind of seemed to fade, though I’m not really sure why. I walked over with a couple of my neighbors, and as other women in the neighborhood arrived and we all stood around drinking and chatting and catching up, I just felt more and more isolated. I don’t really understand why. I stood there listening, and tears began welling up in my eyes that I couldn’t explain, I just didn’t understand what I was feeling and why. I feel so disconnected from these women, but there was no real reason for it. I think a part of me was jealous for some reason, but it was hard to even put my finger on that. I had to excuse myself to find the bathroom and get a grip on whatever weirdness was possessing me. I stared into the mirror, not particularly liking what I saw, splashed water on my face and went back out.

The women in my neighborhood are great. It’s not like I cannot relate to them, because I do. Some work, some stay home, we all live in one of three different model houses in our development, so there is a lot of exclaiming about what one person did with THAT room and oh gee, I never would have thought to put the couch there, etc. All except one woman has children, I think they’re all even under the age of 10, with maybe one exception. More than half of us have small children, and two of the ladies are pregnant and due in the spring.

I’m not sure what to write now. Just keep writing, just keep typing in letters and words and something else will come. It will come.

Sometimes I feel unable to do anything. For example, the things I might do in the house when I am all by myself, is totally different than what I would do if James is in the house. It’s totally different than what I would do if I was home with the kids by myself, or if James is in the house. Last weekend, James took Ethan with him on a trip to Whole Foods and he kept puttering around the house doing things and just wouldn’t get out the door. For some reason I had to have them gone before I could do the things I wanted to do, cleaning up the kitchen and family room, etc. I’m writing this and I can hear how totally crazy this sounds, but it doesn’t happen very often.

Sometimes I think my mental health is hinged on my hormone levels. At one time years ago, I used Depo Provera for birth control and it wasn’t until I went off it did I realize that it made me totally crazy. I would have some dramatic emotional breakdown every few weeks, and this stifling, can’t-do-what-i-want-to-do-if-someone’s-in-the-house thing was huge. I would relish a few hours alone in our duplex (where we lived at the time, pre-children) and the things I would do would range to just reading a book, cleaning the apartment or some part of it, or just watching tv of fooling around on the computer.

Do I view myself through James’ eyes in my head? Is that it? Is that why I could only do certain things, maybe what I thought he wanted me to do, or what I thought I should do when he was there, and when he wasn’t, I was free to do what I really wanted to do? Am I viewing myself through other peoples eyes? James is just the most obvious example. I really am asking here. I have no answers.

In that kitchen tonight I felt a weird jealousy. I’ve felt it in the past.. I’m jealous that I can’t seem to find a close friend among my neighbors. It would be nice to have a girlfriend who is close by. In fact, I think that is why I love this webspace so much. It’s like confiding in a very close, dear friend, and I feel like I’m missing that in my life. When I think about it, I don’t think I’ve actually had a close girlfriend since I lived with my old college roomate in Atlanta. That was over ten years ago. I have friends, but we have kids, they don’t. We live out in the sticks, they don’t. We still talk, but not extremely regularly. I don’t think I’ve actually had a super close friend from this stage of my life. Adulthood? Womanhood? Married with children but still doesn’t feel like a grown-up-hood? Maybe I feel like I don’t know how. I think insecure could describe my feelings standing in that kitchen tonight, though I generally consider myself a very secure person. It felt lonely, and it was strange.

This stifling thing is not so overbearing that I can’t overcome it. And I did, tonight. I forced myself to start talking and listening and joining in, and soon it faded away, and I was happy. I had fun tonight. I laughed and drank and told silly stories and commiserated about houses and jobs and kids and husbands. But when I walked home, I felt overcome once again. Again, I just don’t understand why. I think a part of it is that I always feel as if I’m walking into the perfect home. Perfectly clean, perfectly decorated, perfect food, perfect furniture, and I always feel as if my home is anything but. And then it goes back to that stifling frozen I can’t do anything feeling.. even though I know I can. And I also know that our hostess probably cleaned her ass off all day preparing for tonight, and that no one is perfect.

I went back to work at the beginning of last fall (2005), but before that I stayed home with my kids since my oldest was 7 months old. He is 3 1/2 now. At the end of the summer, I think it’s safe to say I was in a serious funk. Depression? It’s a clinical term, and I don’t know if I could safely use it for me because honestly, I’m not sure exactly what it entails. I was definitely depressed in the way that it is used everyday, nonclinically. I was definitely not happy. Not happy with my life, not happy with how I felt waking up each day, not happy with the feelings of isolation. Not happy. Not happy to the point where I discussed with James that maybe I should talk to a doctor. Going back to work was a necessity, financially, but it also relieved so many of those feelings. Just the excitement of getting up with purpose and going somewhere with adults to converse with and accomplishing tasks throughout the day and knowing I do GOOD work helped me immensely. Maybe it is because that excitement of being back at work is fading away now that some of these “not happy” feelings are returning to me.

It’s 1:30 in the morning, and I can’t help feeling all overwrought and emotional and weird and I can’t even really explain why. It’s time to splash water on my face, get a grip and get over it. Writing this has been a big help, but I don’t know if I will post it. It’s definitely the furthest into personal-land that I’ve ever gone in this web space. I definitely don’t mind strangers reading it (I mean, hello, they’re strangers, what do I care?) but I’m not sure how I feel about my friends reading it. I know they will sympathize, even comfort me, and I’m not sure I even want that. This is just my rambling to help rid me of the feelings, and while I could probably stand, even welcome some commiserating, if they feel that way, I don’t know if I could take anything more. If I do post this, and if I actually know you, let’s just pretend you didn’t read it, ok? Ok. I’ll probably change my mind on this.. you know, TOMORROW, but for now it’s just too close to home.
I’m posting this. I’m not even reading it through before I do so, like I usually do. It’s going up, and I’m going to bed, and tomorrow, I think I’ll be glad I did.

And if I’m not, then it probably won’t be here for you to read.

So, there has been an odd smell floating around our living room for a while now. For a while I thought there was an old, wet diaper hiding somewhere, like under the couch. Close inspection proved that to be wrong.

Then I decided it wasn’t a “diaper” smell, just a “old wet” smell. I disassembled our cool mist humidifier, pitched the filter thinking it was mildewy, and emptied out the base. Still, the smell hovered.

Usually, I’m the one to complain of weird smells. I inherited my mother’s keen sense of smell, who can sniff out ANYTHING as if it were a wet St. Bernard. But even James’s nose was with me on this weird wet smell. I started to worry about leaking pipes in the walls, but there aren’t any water pipes where the smell was eminating. Maybe the outside hose spigot? Nope, it was closer to the front door.

Finally, last night we figured it out. PLANTS!!! In the fall, I took cuttings from the impatiens in my garden cultivated them in pots indoors. I’ve also forced quite a few bulbs (which are really doing spectacularly). I’ve taken pictures, but haven’t gotten them off the camera yet (maybe I’ll have to do that before posting this post). Anyway, one of the forcing methods I tried out was using those glass marble things that you use in floral arrangements, stuffing a bulb or two down in them, and then adding water juuuuuust to the tippy rooty bottom of the bulb. I had 2 glasses done up this way. They were not doing nearly as well as the ones I had planted in actual pots. With dirt. Anyway, I had actually THOUGHT maybe it was these bulbs, but when I stuck my nose in there, I could NOT SMELL THE SMELL! So I figured it wasn’t that, and moved on.

But it WAS THE BULBS! AND NOT JUST THEM! I beleive I have over-watered my potted impatiens and they have developed root rot. First, last night, in an effort to determine whether or not it WAS the plant items that had the smell, we moved them from the windows in the family room to the top of the fridge (this was to prevent forest fires kitty damage). It become evident that it was definitely the plants, as minutes after they were moved, the smell was in the kitchen!

So I took the bulbs out of the marbles/beady/glass/water thingee and oh boy did it stink. Rinsed out the marbles well, though I see a bath in cloroxy water in their future. This morning, I thought, “hey, I’m going to take some of these into my office!” and picked out an impatiens pot that I had stuck some tulip bulbs in as well.

All day long, that nasty wet ROTTING ROOTS smell has been plaguing me. We all already know that my delicate little nose can’t seem to take any instrusive smells, and now after smelling this damn plant all day, my nose is all stuffed up and red from the constant blowing. I even relegated the plant to the top of my little hutch/shelves thingee on my desk, but the web diaper smell drifts down anyway.

So I spent some time at lunch looking up root rot and proper soil and watering techniques and tonight when I go home, I shall re-pot my plants using proper potting soil (I think most of what I used was just from the ground outside, a big no-no) that has been pasteurized (Pasteurization! Not Just For Dairy!) in clean, sterilized containers and hopefully my plants will be happy and healthy and the nasty wet-smell will GO AWAY BECAUSE I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

Seriously. At least James could smell it this time. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going crazy with the things I smell and rant about only to hear him say, “What? I don’t smell anything.” *honks as he inhales* “What? There isn’t any smell.” Grrrr.

It could be worse.

OR EVEN WORSE!

OK, I’ll stop with the links, lest I get all mimi smartypants on your ass.

AHHH! I LINKED AGAIN!

Ok, done now.

So, while I’m talking about plants, one of the handy things I did when I was home with Jocelyn in all her sickness, was put up a shelf in her closet. However, I didn’t have enough brackets that the back of the bracket packet called for so that called for a trip to Lowes.

Well.. RIGHT in front of the entrance… was a beautiful standup of SEEDS. My eyes glazed over, my tongue started hanging out, the drool machine started that would put any teething 4 month old to shame. Jocelyn, Ethan and I had such fun picking out some seeds to plant that now I just can’t wait until I can GET GOING! I have grand plans for the garden this year. We bought some green bean, cherry tomato, rosemary, and BROCOLI seeds! On arriving home, I discovered that I already had rosemary, what I need is SAGE! My basil seeds have also gone AWOL, so I need some of those as well. I also bought two pots designed to be the final living space for the herbs – I’ll start them out in smaller thingees* though.

* I’m still learning all this farmer of the earth lingo. You knew what I meant.

The outside is going to be fun, though I need to figure out what is going to go where. We have a deck now and that means I can put in some more beds, which means some grass is going to need to come up, and some soil is going to need amending, and aerating, and some plants in front need to be moved in back and I have to decide where to put the vegetables and where to put the flowers and I want to get a raspberry bush too, because won’t the jam be oh so yummy? and I sure would like a rototiller but that’s probably overkill but OH I JUST CAN’T WAIT!

Luckily, I don’t have to wait until spring, I can start indoors with my little seeds in flats.

As long as I don’t overwater them and use the right media*!

* Look. I used the term “media.” Bet you were impressed. Really, that just means whatever it’s growing in. Me learn gooooood.

It is going to be busy this weekend. I have Bunko tonight, a date with my husband Saturday night, with just the two of us, and poker with this guy and some of his work buddies on Sunday.

SHOE MONEY TO-NIGHT! (or, ahem.. sunday night)

– amy lines up angels on a head of a pin

When I was a teenager, I had very specific fashion ideas. Anything My Mother Would Not Like. This mostly included cut-off jeans (even if they were long, I cut off the cuffs at the bottom (I liked fraying), and more often bleached weird designs on them) t-shirts and pointy shoes.

As I grew up (HA! I’m grown up? HAHA!) I loved the jobs that allowed me to wear jeans and t-shirts.

I am currently at a job where I have to look nice and can wear jeans on fridays. I don’t mind it, actually, though there are days when the second thing I say (the first is always, “JOCELYN JOCELYN!” in reply to her “MOMMY MOMMY!”) is “I’m going upstairs to replace these clothing items with pajamas.”

So I get up and try to assemble an outfit that looks reasonable nice at 6:30 in the morning, and some days I get it ok, and other days I look at myself at noon and wonder, “What was I smoking?” And then other days I look at myself and just wonder why I wasn’t blessed with the fashion gene. Mostly it’s the stockings and shoes that mystify me. I look at the blouse and the skirt and think, “that’s ok” and then I wonder if the black tights work ok. Can you wear black tights* and black shoes with everything? How about white tights? When do you wear one color and not the other and vice versa? For some reason I always think the black tights looks odd, but the off-white looks good. And then I wonder if there’s some strange rule about not wearing off-white tights after labor day or something and I just long for warmer days so I can make sure my legs are shaved and not bother with tights.

Today is a tights-wondering day, as well as an outfit wondering day. Does this sage-green shirt really look all right with my plum-maroony skirt? Will someone just come to my house every morning and dress me? Because I don’t think I trust my judgement. I’ve seen my house.

* I don’t like the word “nylons” and I especially abhor the term “hose” or “panty hose” *SHUDDER* so please assume that my use of the word “tights” encompasses all things sock/stocking-like that goes on your legs. While we’re discussing the words used for articles of clothing, let me also go on the record on the use of the word “panties” Unless you’re under age eight, there’s no need to call them this. They are underwear, people.

I’ll leave you with a short but Cute Ethan Episode story. It was Tuesday and as soon as I picked him up from school, he was talking talking talking and Would! Not! Stop! with the strange questions.

“Are we going by the towers?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Why?”
“Because this is the way home.”
“But I want to go straight.”
“Well, we have to turn honey, to get home.”
“Why?”
“I already told you why, Ethan.”
“Let’s go straight. We can turn around, mommy.”
“Yes, we could, but not today. We’re going this way today.”
“Why?”

– and thus, the token parental phrase jumped to my tongue.. Even as I said it, I did not want to say it. It was an internal battle: exhaustion and the uselessness of this discussion vs. the desire to not squash my child’s spirit.. Sad to say, the exhaustion won..

“Because I said so.”

It’s always WHY WHY WHY ALL THE FREAKIN’ time. I don’t mind, usually, but even when I don’t, it is fairly exhausting. Who would have thought that just talking can be exhausting? It is, though. Just before we were turning into our neighborhood, he had a lapse of quiet, just listening to the cd that was playing, and I yawned a huge, jaw-dislocating yawn, and then he yawned as well.

*mommy yawns.*
*ethan yawns.*
ethan: “I look tired, mommy.”
me: “Yeah. I look tired too.”

Jocelyn is doing much better. However, her home daycare lady’s daughter is suspected of having chicken pox. Jocelyn received an immunization for the chicken pox (doesn’t that seem vaguely wrong? Isn’t everyone supposed to have to go through this at some point as part of the childhood experience?) and even a phone call to her doctor confirmed that she can go ahead to daycare, but unfortunately, daycare lady decided to close daycare for today and tomorrow. It’s something we knew going in, that if we go with a home daycare, that this sort of thing can happen. I’ve already used up all the comp/admin time I have, and James stayed home with her yesterday, so it kind of sucks. James is scrambling to see if he can line something up for her tomorrow. I hate the idea of her going to a strange place all day with people she doesn’t know. I know she will be miserable, but what can you do? Ugh.

Jocelyn is very adamant about what she wants, and does not want. If I offer her something she doesn’t want, she will start hollering, “NO! NO! NO!” until I say to her, “just say, ‘No thank you!'” and she stops, and says, “doedankuum!” and trots off happily. Tantrum averted. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but everything is also, “Awesome. Mommy. Awesome.”

Off to work.

– amy looks tired in her mismatched outfit with wrong colored tights.

I feel all stifled and squished, even though I’m out of work clothes (sometimes very stifling) and in pajamas (comfiest clothing ever) and pink fuzzy slippers. I can feel my health slipping out the back door into an alley.. And on the way out, letting in a large heavily muscled thug carrying a club with the label “unending misery and pain” on it just waiting for the perfect moment to sneak up and bash me upside the head with it. I am going to attempt to reason with the thug of misery by brushing my teeth thoroughly, gargling with salt water, drinking lots of nyquil and crashing to bed very early tonight. However, by the simple of merit of thugs being thugs, they rarely listen to reasoning. If there’s a club of misery with my name on it, I’m not sure I can dodge it at this point. I guess we’ll see.

What is worse, is that I’m not the first victim Mr. Thug With Club Of Misery has staked out. The first was Jocelyn, the poor little dear. This weekend, holiday though it was, has been pretty hellish for everyone involved. Me and James, dealing with the sick girl, Ethan, being healthy and fine and without parental attention whatsoever because we were so focused on Jocelyn, and Jocelyn herself, sicker than I have ever seen her. Is that a true statement?? I can vaguely remember another bout that was very very bad when she was an infant that may be tied or a close second, but no way it beats this time.

Friday, James picked up Jocelyn from her home daycare, and her provider told James that she has been pretty sick all day, runny runny nose, cough, etc. Sure enough, she seemed pretty bad that evening and the next morning, that I took her to the doctor. While listening to her lungs, she said she heard a slight crackle, which can mean pneumonia. A trip to Target later, and Jocelyn was started on antibiotics. Saturday, she was sick, but it was Sunday that was really pretty scary. Not that Saturday night was any picnic. She could not breathe through her nose AT ALL, and she is a thumb sucker — I’m sure you can see where this would leave her, you’re a smart audience. She was so miserable. She would cough every 15 seconds and then cry, one long pitiful plaintive moaning cry of anguish. James would rock her and put her back in her bed and eventually she would start crying again and I’d take a turn. Finally, I just took her into the guest room, propped myself up with pillows on the guest bed, and held her. She didn’t sleep, but she was able to get some comfort from her momma. I eventually laid her down next to me (thank goodness the bed is pushed up against the wall) and we both slept that way for a while. Every time she would cough, I would rub her back to let her know I was there. I put her back in her crib around 2am and went back to my own bed to try to get in some rest.

Sunday was worse. She started running a fever, and started breathing much heavier and faster, like a panting dog. Her poor little body wheezed out coughs, it seemed constantly. I called the doctor to see how worried we really should be and was told that if she still was having so much trouble breathing after the fever was brought down, then we should consider taking her to the hospital. James let me nap that afternoon and it was niiiiiice. I never nap. Maybe I should investigate it further as a pastime, because I woke up feeling so refreshed (even though I’d slept with bra on and contacts in, yuck, yuck). Sunday night, she did a little better at bedtime, with James going in and rocking her every now and then, until around midnight, when she started wailing. When I went in, she had a high fever and I could see she had the chills, her entire body was trembling. She was so worked up that she kept fighting everything I’d do, she didn’t want medicine, she didn’t want Vicks on her chest, she REALLY didn’t want saline drops in her nose, she didn’t want ANYTHING, not even me to hold her. Apparently, her life wouldn’t be complete until I put her down, left the room and let her scream on the floor to her heart’s content. Luckily, once I took her out of her room and into the guest bedroom, she calmed down and snuggled up to me with a right good will. It was a little scary, her fever being so high, but Motrin brought it down and soon she was sleeping next to me. After a few hours, dozing now and then, her skin felt normal to the touch and I returned her to her bed and went back to mine.

Monday was much better. I am SO thankful that we took her to the doctor on Saturday and that she got started on the antibiotics right away. The possibility of it getting worse than it was on Sunday was really scary. But by monday, the breathing was much improved, still kind of wheezing, but not panting like a dog with her whole huge baby-tummy sticking out and her ribcage pulling in with each and every breath. Today (Tuesday) I went to work and James stayed home with her. She had an appointment with her doctor who made the appointment Saturday to check her progress (have I told you how much I love our pediatrician?? she’s wonderful. I’m building a temple to her greatness) and gave her another prescription to help the cough that sounds like she’s been smoking for 20 years. Fevers have been minimal today and we think she may be able to go back to daycare tomorrow. Her doctor said she could as long as her temperature stays normal, but there’s the whole misery quotient to take into account as well. Her nose wasn’t running nearly as much today, so hopefully it will be even better tomorrow, as well as the cough.

So, while she is on the mend, I can sense the same thug that thwacked her upside the immune system is waiting around the corner for me. The stress of caring for her and worrying for her all weekend have taken some part in it, I’m sure. Plus I went into DC today and walked around in the semi-coldness, which usually doesn’t hurt anyone, but I think everything kind of conspired to weaken my immune system which of course just screams an invitation to the Thug. Hopefully I can outsmart him with lots of sleep, lots of water tomorrow, and no salt. Why is it that salt always seems to progress any imminent illness for me? Is that just me or does anyone else have that too? I think it’s the whole water thing – salt dehydrates you and I guess sickness likes dried out husks of bodies to plunder. I never feel thirsty, but after drinking a zillion ounces of water on weight watchers, I can tell now when I haven’t been drinking enough. When I drink plenty, my lips never get chapped. My lips right now are like dry twigs with the bark peeling off. Better start downing the water.

And then Nyquil.

Happy dreams.. wish me luck against the Thug..

So I am now finished with entering all the old posts that I could find. I was fairly cool with not having EVERY SINGLE POST, until I went looking through the email notifications I had saved from when someone comments.

My friend Chris posted, “you made me smile 🙂 you should totally make sure you keep these kids stories stored someplace that you’ll have for a long time – imagine jocelyn’s horror when you trot out this one when you meet her first boyfriend.”

The post title that he commented on was, “Those crazy kids..” many searching on many search engines didn’t turn anything up.

This is just one of around 25 posts that are AWOL. I have no idea what cute story I posted about Jocelyn that I should trot out when her first boyfriend arrives.

You know, when this all happened, I was pretty blase about it.. but now I know that there are around 25 posts, documentation of my life, my kids’ life, that are gone, and I won’t get them back, and I don’t even know what they are, what I wrote about.

It’s not as if it was all for naught. Sometimes I write when something is pressing on me and I just have to write it out in my horrid run-on sentences and non-capitalizing blather and in so doing, I can help prop up the rock of depression long enough for me to clamber out from underneath. That’s something. I don’t want to belittle that. Even if they are gone now, writing those posts helped me at the time. Just like writing this is helping me now.

Let’s be honest, this IS me we’re talking about so half of them could have been stupid IM message logs between me and james, or a couple quoting random tv shows in an effort to get my friend Greg to add them to his Netflix queue (except that I actually have both of those) or *ahem* even my grocery list, or me reporting how yummy Perfect Pita is..

But at least one of them was a cute story about my daughter. And I have no idea what it was.

got some more entries entered, got my theme installed. Tweaked it up a bit. I need some sleep, because I can feel my self worth start to plummet. No one wants to go fishing around for their self-worth, especially at this hour of the night, so I’d better get to bed.

It’ll be nice when things get back to normal.

wheeee.

James updated the OS on our server, and in so doing, accidently grabbed an old backup instead of a current backup.

All of my blog entries were lost. I started this thingee in Sept, and the backup was from Sept 6th.

So…. I have managed to grab quite a few from cached search engines, but am missing probably around 20. Also, with the server upgrade came wordpress upgrade, thus the default design.

I’m trying to get all my old posts entered in. then I’ll see about the layout.

james was very very upset when he told me what happened, and I told him it really is ok. I mean, what is this? Words? But the relief that came over me as I found more and more of these words was overwhelming, and the sadness at what I might be missing is growing on me.

Anyway. That is what is up. Oh, and I registered a domain. I’d be more excited about it, except for all the work that is ahead of me.

anyway. off to bed now.

I do wonder if there are people out in the world reading this space that I don’t actually know. Do I know you? Do you know me? I have been taking our gallery of photos and slowly uploading them into our flickr account, and this morning when I opened my email I was somewhat amazed to see that someone I’d never heard of had added me as a contact on flickr. Do they read this thingee here and saw the Christmas photos and then added me? Or were they just a flickr person who randomly found my photostream and thought it was neat and added me that way? I COULD just message them and ask but then I would be a dork. (I am a dork anyway, but this way, nobody knows but you, and me. Shhhh.)

So, speaking of photos, I’ve been glancing them over as I upload them, and I gotta say, DAMN are my kids cute. I mean really. They also look a lot alike. Sometimes when I’m out somewhere with Jocelyn, someone will tell me how she looks just like me. I seriously do not see it. However, when I/we are out with both of them, they NEVER say that, they always say (if a comment is made) that they look so much like EACH OTHER.

Here is one of Ethan that looks startlingly like Jocelyn, perhaps because he’s hair is getting all long and fuzzy:

Looking at pictures of Ethan when he was littler makes me so nostalgic. He was (and still is!) such a SWEET little boy. He still gets the same look on his face from when he was a baby.

I think overalls should be mandatory for toddlers. HEAR YE, HEAR YE! ALL’ST WHOTH POSSESSETH SMALL CHILDREN, GET THEE TO TARGET TO PURCHASE OVERALLS, STAT!

I recently got a pair of overalls for Ethan, and he totally shunned them. In fact, EVERY article of clothing I have bought recently, except for 1 pair of pants, he has refused to wear. The boy is going to grow out of anything and have to run around naked because of all the clothes in stores are somehow not coming up to the high standards of the The Boy.

Speaking of naked, there was a time when I could barely keep clothes on him. Potty training pretty much consisted of letting him run around naked a lot and putting the potty chair in the living room. Also reading about Joshua, and how he has a bottom for sitting on and a hole in it for making poo-poo!

I have issues with this book. Have you ever thought that your bottom is “making” poop? Frankly, that is a little startling. Also, the book states that the “pee-pee” MAKES “wee-wee”. As I read this book to Ethan, I would always change the wording on the spur of the moment because it just doesn’t sound right. First of all, it’s a penis. Always has been, alwasy will be – no “pee-pee” in this house, thank you very much. I waffled too much on saying either “wee-wee” or just “pee”, so now in our house, it’s wee-wee. I hate wee-wee. I would much rather it be called pee. It really is a weird word, don’t you think? How in the world did urine ever get turned into “pee”? Anyway, the penis doesn’t “make” pee, that would be part of the kidney’s job. I hold no truck with these ON-THE-FLY wee-wee-making pee-pees, that’s just eerie. Aside from the actual nouns used for all the bathroom talk, the wording in the book is just a little weird. “Afterwards he kept making Wee-Wee and Poo-Poo into his diaper and I, Joshua’s mother, kept changing him.” I mean, that’s a little wordy for a toddler who really doesn’t have a lot of mastery over anything yet, let alone english. Good book, just strangely written.

There are some good points to it though. Joshua’s mother brings him a potty, and he opens it up and contemplates what it could be. “Is it a milk bowl for the kitty? — No..” I remember one day Ethan was playing, and we hadn’t even read the book that day, and he said to himself, “Is it a bowl for the kitty? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Is it for flowers? NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Is it bird-bath? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! IT’S A POTTY!!!!!!”

That by far, was his favorite part.

Jocelyn has been talking talking talking lately. Not only does she say, “Awesome!” but the other day she helped daddy empty the dishwasher. Too cute already, but as she took out a cup and hand it off to Daddy, she would say, “Ethan’s cup.” “Mommy’s cup.” “Daddy’s fork.” “Plate, daddy. Ethan’s plate.” Every article belonged to someone.

Family picture:

– amy needs a new flash

(Originally posted on a temporary blog account until the server was back up.)

I have a whole list of things that I’ve been dying to write about but couldn’t because our server was down, and thus, no blog. “Why didn’t you just write it anyway and save it until you could post it?” Well, because I’m weird and if it’s just me that’s reading it, then why bother. Yes, that’s right, I think the reason why people have blogs and websites in general all goes back to wanting to be famous. We all wanted to be a rock-star or an actor or the president when we grew up, right? And why would we want that? Because they’re famous. So there you go, Kottke, the reason why folks have secret sites? It’s because we all want to be famous. Secretly Famous! And if they’re not secret, then the more famouser we are. Wheeee, internet!

So, to get back to this list. First off, you’ll be happy to know that there is no longer the nasty smelling tube of Mary Kay hand lotion in the ladies room at my office. I don’t know if it got used up or someone else was annoyed and had more balls than me and just pitched it, but it’s gone. Now, whenever I walk into the bathroom, there’s a faint minty smell. At first I thought it must be whatever cleanser they use in the toilets, but whoever heard of a minty toilet cleaner? Lemon-fresh, sure, but never minty. The toilet bowl cleanser marketing people probably ruled taht one out, as they don’t want anyone to think, “That smells so good I could LICK IT.” Maybe someone is brushing their teeth in there all hours of the day because it is ALWAYS minty smelling, not just in those few hours after lunch when the teeth brushing would occur.

I’m very grateful that the hand lotion is gone because lately I feel as if SMELLS! ARE ATTACKING! MY NOSTRILS! I have stopped using any hair spray (not that there was a lot of use of it in the past, but now, none at all) and I unwrapped a candle the other night and had to put it in another room because of the strong scent was accosting my nasal passages. It wasn’t even lit, just the smell from the scenty wax.

I was ironing these thin curtain things to hang up on our four-poster bed* when my mom called, and when she heard what I was doing, she suggested I use some linen water instead of the starch I was using. I have various bottles of scented water that she has given me over the years that I always forget I have, but they’re very nice and faint and a little spritz with lavender water on a freshly changed bed is nice come night-time, so I immediately went and fetched the bottle of sweet-pea linen water (it’s water for linens, do you think the linen water police will come get me for using it on curtains? I guess curtains could fall under the linen category) and started using it. And immediately, the sweet wonderful fragrance (it really did smell super!) did it’s number on my nose and I couldn’t breathe and my eyes watered and I had to stop using the pretty water and switch back to starch. Honestly. Can I get another nose please? This one is broken.

Speaking of pitching and mary kay, I don’t think I ever told you about the envelope that was in that same bathroom a few months ago. I saw it and ignored it during a few trips until finally my curiousity got the better of me and I opened it and peeped inside. It wasn’t sealed or anything. Inside, there was a letter to “Dear New Client!” from a Mary Kay consultant and had a smallish brochure of products. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to diss Mary Kay or anything, but come on! Leaving brochures in the ladies room?! Can’t you take out an ad or something if you’re that desperate for clients? I actually did throw that one away, and looked around all surreptitiously. Maybe the consultant worked in my office. Maybe she was spying, waiting to see what would happen to her line thrown out in the darkness. Would it hook her a little new client fish? OK, I’m stopping with the bad analogies now, (“thank god!” -oh shut up) and stopping with this story because, yeah, it’s dumb.

* Our bed has posts at each corner and then wooden slats that go across the top of each posts that make it look kind of like a canopy bed but without the canopy. I got these curtainy things some time ago, but never got around to actually putting them up again when we moved, 2 years ago. Oh I am ON THE BALL, only takes 2 years for me! Needless to say, they were very wrinkled.

I know this webspace is temporary, but it’s nice to have someplace to post again. Hopefully these words will be tucked into their own little beds at their own little home again soon.

amy smoothes your hair, kisses your forehead, and leaves the closet light on when she leaves.

I have a bee in my bonnet.

It’s been there a while now, on this particular issue, but now I just can’t be silent any longer.

It started of course, with the live-action movie, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I have not seen it, nor will I ever see it. I actually recorded it with our Tivo, but then couldn’t bring myself to actually watch it. I think that a live-action movie could be made that would be true to the original, but just from what I’ve heard, this one wasn’t it.

Various things have come to my attention since the passing of the great Theodor Geisel, otherwise known as Dr. Seuss, that have made me cringe. But this most recent takes the cake.

We have many of Dr. Seuss’ books, some of them from our own childhood, over 20 years old. When Ethan was born, our neighbor gave us Dr. Seuss’ A B C, a delightful book that goes through the entire alphabet, and one that Ethan could “read” to himself, word for word, when he was about 2 and a half. It was in circulation for bedtime stories in massive purportions about a year ago, and has since fallen out a bit. With Jocelyn getting older, I know it will probably come back into use soon.

While, of course, it is wonderful to sit and read stories to your child for bedtime, I must admit, that I used to try to get Ethan to pick a different book, because this one is pretty lengthy. It has paper numbered pages, and I think there are more than 40 pages total. Especially in the beginning which has,

“Big A,
little a.
A.. a.. A..”

on the first pages, then have to turn to read and see,

“Aunt Annie’s Alligator,
A.. a.. A.”

He speeds it up after the first few letters and has the letter’s introduction and then the stuff for the letter all on the same page.

“Big G,
little g,
G.. g.. g.

Goat, girl,
Goo-goo goggles,
G.. g.. G.”

The illustration is on the opposite page, so you have 2 pages per letter (except for the first few letters, which is 4 pages per letter). Then you turn the page and read about H.

You are turning the pages pretty quickly of course, but still, it’s a good 5-10 minute read as opposed to Byron Barton’s Trains book, which is a minute, maybe two to read through. (Great one btw, still in bedtime circulation.)

Anyway, this is all background that brings you to me, at Costco Saturday morning, browsing through the books, when I hit upon Dr. Seuss’ “A B C”, and “Hop on Pop” in a large board book format. Very cool, because Jocelyn still rips paper pages on occasion, and I like the sturdy non-destructible kind. I open it up and glance at a few pages and not only is it a board book, but it appears to have condensed some of the page turning by putting 2 letters on one page, and 2 more on the opposite page – this appeals to me, because of the aforementioned tons of pages, so after debating about whether to get “A B C” or “Hop on Pop” I tossed “A B C” in, because it will mostly be read by Jocelyn at this point, and “Hop on Pop” is mostly read by Ethan, who can be gentle with the paper pages. I also get “Pokey Little Puppy” which is a classic children’s book, but I haven’t actually read it before. I’ve just found that if you’re going to come home with new books, better have one per child.

Blah, anyway, so I get home and show them both the new books I bought, and later settle in to read it to them. It doesn’t dawn on me right away, but this version of “A B C” is DIFFERENT, in more ways than mere layout.

FOR EXAMPLE!

Now, maybe this really is a small thing and I’m blowing it way out of proportion. But to me, it seems like the whimsy and wonderfulness THAT IS SEUSS, is taking out of the changed version. It’s just lacking some of the original nonsensical essence. What fun Ethan and I had exclaiming at the top of our lungs, “ker-CHOO!!!!!” If I were to keep this version (oh, like THAT would happen. Maybe when they’re serving up milkshakes IN HELL) Jocelyn would never know that sipping six sodas could make you SICK SICK SICK!

It just makes me sad. It’s that same sadness I feel when I watch the original muppet shows and movies. I think that Henson Jr. is doing a pretty good job at keeping his dad’s legacy alive, with minor wrong turns here and there, but sometimes I wish everyone inheriting the rights to their spouse’s or parent’s art would just LEAVE IT THE HELL ALONE and let it end with them. We didn’t need Mike Myers being the Cat in the Hat, we didn’t need kermit to be a SECONDARY CHARACTER in the Muppet’s Christmas Carol (hell, we didn’t need a story that WASN’T ORIGINAL. Did you understand your father AT ALL?) and we didn’t need Jim Carrey as the Grinch.

I can understand why one might want his work translated to the big screen for a new generation to enjoy. I can kind of understand merchandising of his illustrations into other fields.

But I CANNOT understand how and why ANYONE EVER would want to take the “ker-CHOO” out of the A B C book. Seriously. It makes me want to cry.