He Pisses on Kisses. I Pass on Pissed Kisses.

The Scene: I'm downstairs in the office, Zube Boy is upstairs in bed (still not feeling on the up and up). From the office, I cannot hear him squawking.

After a while I hear the tell-tale creaking of the stairs, foreshadowing the imminent arrival of my pajamified husband.

Z-Boy: *heads into the bathroom* Honey?!

Z-Girl: Yes, dear?

Z-Boy: Oh, what are you doing in there?

Z-Girl: Playing on the computer.

Z-Boy: Well, I've been blowing you kisses down the stairs forever now because I thought you were in the living room. I just came down and the kisses were all stuck at the bottom of the steps.

Z-Girl: Why don't you tell them to come over here? Oh wait! Here they come, marching in the office door!

Z-Boy: Nope. Nope. That's definitely not them.

Z-Girl: How do you know?

Z-Boy: Because I picked them all up and threw 'em in the toilet when I came in here.

Z-Girl: And now you're peeing on them?

Z-Boy: Yup.

Z-Girl: That's...nice.

PS - There are some DAMN funny comments here if you're so inclined to take a peek.

Thinking Out Loud

HO. LY. SHIT. Zube Boy and I just got our asses handed to us. We caught a bug. Zee had it, too, but she is apparently less of a baby than any of the other human members of this household. I literally had an hour or so where I felt so desparate I almost called my work to ask someone, anyone, to come over and take Zee for a bit. I couldn't stand up without puking. We muddled through, and all is well now, but we're still feeling the repurcussions of 36 hours of nothing in, everything out. And though I've always yearned for a nice, roomy bathroom, I am now thankful for the tiny bathroom in our house. Thoughtful of it to have the bathtub so strategically placed right next to the toilet.

Whew. So, now that we've got the oversharing out of the way, I'm going to do some thinking out loud here. I promised myself a long time ago, even before Zube Boy and I were trying for a baby, that if I ever had one this blog would remain MY space. Not MY space as a MOMMY. I swore I'd keep the Mommy blathering to a minimum. I don't know I've done so well with that, but it's what I'm attempting. At the moment, though, I am really, really, and I mean REALLY struggling with something Mommy-related. So I'm going to write it down mostly for the sake of my own clarity and also because, hell, you all have been tremendously helpful before. I hope you don't feel used. If so, kindly shoot me an e-mail and I'll let you know where you can send the bill.

The brief synopsis...

Zee Baby goes to daycare two days a week. Her Daycare Provider, we'll call her DCP, has been a wealth of knowledge in the past with everything from cold remedies to helping ease up on Zee's constipation when she was just a wee little thing. DCP was an ER nurse and has been in daycare so long some of her charges are probably my age. Or at least in college. Hopefully not majoring in partying like I did, but I digress.

As helpful as she's been in the past, DCP's advice is really beginning to grate. Since Zee was five months old, she has told me that Zee has Sensory Processing Disorder. It all started because Zee covers her ears when she hears a loud noise. She's not a big huge fan of the vacuum. I've taken in all DCP has to say, done some research (that site linked above is a good one), and really sat with my thoughts on this. I've concluded that I really don't FEEL anything is wrong with Zee. I just don't. I think I'd know if something was up. And I also don't think I'm being all "not MY baby!" because as we've all learned here, I'm well aware I'm not immune to being on the small side of heaping odds. And their are so many conditions out there that to me sometimes it's amazing most kids are healthy. So I don't think I'm in denial.

What sealed the deal for me was when I approached my doctor with DCP's concerns, he knew her by name, rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, she had a couple come in here CONVINCED their child had Sensory Processing Disorder because he wouldn't wear a hat. It took me an hour to get them to believe that some children just don't like hats." He asked if Zube Boy and I were concerned. We honestly admitted that our biggest concern was DCP's 'diagnosis' but that we didn't feel anything was wrong. The doctor pretty much said, "Zee is fine. She's interactive here with me, smiley, doesn't mind being touched...I've had one child in my practice officially diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder and you could tell that something was a little off. Don't worry. If you're ever concerned, let me know and we'll revisit the idea."

Case closed. Or so I thought.

So, where I am now...

Ugh. Basically, I have another daycare option come June. Nothing until then. But DCP keeps bringing up this diagnosis and reminding me that the earlier we deal with it, the better it will be for Zee. She also, and I don't know if this is on purpose, but she'll show me some of what the other kids are doing that Zee isn't doing yet. Not in a comparative way but in a, "Look at so-and-so, almost walking at 10 months!" Zee's not crawling. She's 10 and 1/2 months old. And I'll to tell you I'm the biggest proponent of All. Kids. Have. Their. Own. Pace. But I'm not going to lie. It's a little unsettling when your kid is the one on the slow end of those big milestones. My niece started crawling at 6 months and my nephew is crawling now and he's 9 months. So yeah, I am well aware that kids her age are doing things she isn't. Thanks for making that point, DCP. I'm also aware that other kids weren't holding their own bottle at 6 months and feeding themselves cheerios all pincer-style at 8. So Zee has been in the forward crowd, too. I think all kids lag and lead in different areas.

Now, DCP has mentioned her opinion regarding MY daughter to two of my friends whose children also attend the same daycare. And I'm boiling. I am seriously considering pulling her out for the next two months and taking a pay cut at work so I don't have to bring her there anymore.

The worst part of all of this is that given the constant and pervasive mention of it, I'm starting to doubt myself and my intuition a little. A little voice in the back of my head is going, "Are you SUUUUURE there's nothing wrong? I mean, you were SO SURE Zee was a boy, and she wasn't? What does that say about your intuition, Mama?" I don't know. Of course I want the best possible shot for Zee and if I felt something was wrong I would go to the ends of the earth to find someone who would believe me and help us address it. But I don't want to go around diagnosing her with things willy nilly just for shits and giggles. And I think if you try hard enough in any case, you'll find something wrong with everyone. Hell, it's what makes humans so god-damned interesting.

But I don't want my 'All Kids Are Different' mantra to do a disservice to Zee. So, for the sake of being all facty and diagnostic, below I've pinched a list of symtoms from the site I linked to above. I've highlighted in red the ones that might apply to Zee, and I'm even being a little liberal. Not all are true in all cases. I've added notes where I deem applicable in blue. Here they are:

Sensory Processing Disorder Symptom Checklist For Infants &Toddlers
__ Resists being held or cuddled
__ Cries and/or arches back when people try to hold him/her
__ Distressed by diaper changes
__ Distressed by baths and/or water splashing on him/her
__ Doesn't fall into a predictable sleep/wake pattern or cycle
__ Cries excessively throughout the day (more than a half hour or hour at a time)
__ Doesn't smile often, appears “sad” or “uncomfortable” much of the time
__ Has distinct preferences for adults of certain energy levels or voices (i.e., intonation, loudness, high pitched, low pitched, etc.)
__ Avoids eye contact, has difficulty focusing on objects or following them with eyes
__ Distressed when moved suddenly or whole body and/or head is tipped
__ Distressed by rocking motions
__ Distressed when moving in space (i.e., swinging around, bouncing up and down, or being “thrown” up in the air)
__ Doesn't appear to respond to name or familiar voice
__ Can't seem to calm baby down no matter what you try (or there is only ONE thing that does, i.e., a car ride)
__ Difficulty breastfeeding
__ Difficulty with sucking, chewing, or swallowing
__ Doesn't tolerate new foods well
__ Gags or vomits from textured foods or on variety of different foods (very limited diet for age)
__ Does not seem to sense when diaper is wet or dirty
__ Cries inconsolably until a wet or dirty diaper is changed
__ Prefers to be without clothing
__ Severe separation anxiety
__ Tantrums many times a day
__ Distressed by sunlight or bright lights
__ Distressed in public places, especially if crowded or noisy Zee doesn't like big crowds. Neither does her dad. He just doesn't cover his ears and cry. He has 33 years of experience using his legs and a bit more free will under his belt so he turns around and walks away.
__ Doesn't enjoy regular interactive movement games, i.e., peek-a-boo, pat-a-cake, etc.
__ Doesn't notice new toys/novel toys and/or resists playing with them
__ Only uses one hand to manipulate and explore toys and/or can't switch from hand to hand
__ Unable to bang toys together or clap hands (at appropriate age)
__ Keeps hands fisted and closed most of the time
__ Distressed by dirty hands or face
__ Cries inconsolably when left with strangers or less familiar people
__ Significantly late to talk, walk, gesture, smile, hold bottle, sleep through the night, manipulate/play with toys, etc.
__ Major difficulties transitioning to solid foods and/or rice cereal after bottle or breast fed
__ Can not hold onto or use objects or utensils well for age
__ Regularly avoids certain foods, food categories, consistencies, temperatures of food, eliminates whole food groups, etc.
__ Difficulties with excessive reflux or allergies to foods and/or formulas
__ Doesn't seem to notice sounds others do
__ Frequent ear infections
__ Sensitive to sounds others don't seem to be bothered by Sometimes a few kids will be playing with noisy toys and Zee will cover her ears when they are all going at once. The other kids don't seem to mind.
__ Difficult to engage; is an observer, doesn't interact with peers or adults
__ Apprehensive and/or distressed by playground equipment
__ Distressed by baby swings, jolly jumpers, wagon/stroller rides, car rides, etc.
__ Avoids putting toys in mouth, exploring them with her mouth
__ Baby gags or vomits when objects are placed in his mouth
__ Beyond teething stage, always has something in his/her mouth, or chewing on clothes, hands, fingers
__ Avoids categories of toys, i.e., vibrating, stuffed animals, rough textured toys, slippery/slimy toys, brightly colored objects, etc.
__ Appears overwhelmed, cries, or falls asleep when overstimulated
__ Refuses/distressed by certain positions, i.e., being on tummy, on back, sitting, etc. Not a huge fan of tummy time.
__ Stays in one position and becomes uncomfortable when moving to another; if moving on own has significant difficulty transitioning to another position (hard to do, awkward) She's started transition from sitting to belly, but can't seem to move back.
__ You find you are always trying to be one step ahead of baby; trying to control his environment and “warning” people what to do/not to do so baby is comfortable
__ Difficulty staying asleep for more than 30 minutes at a time, or wakes up frequently throughout the night, unable to soothe himself back to sleep
__ Seems to get too much sleep, very short time when he is alert, playing, responding, and interacting
__ Has significant difficulty waking up
__ Needs a particular sound to stay asleep, i.e., fan, nature tape, white noise, music, etc. This is probably my fault. It's dry as hell around here so we have a humidifier running in her room at night and now she has trouble sleeping without it.
__ Will not sleep if there is any noise
__ Wakes with the sun
__ Can not fall asleep anywhere but home, in familiar environment
__ Needs excessive help to fall asleep...rocking, bouncing, singing, rubbing back, etc. for long periods of time
__ Uncomfortable if not swaddled tightly; or, if older, needs heavy blankets, stuffed animals, or tighter pajamas for weight and pressure on them to fall asleep well
__ Able to switch moods effectively and relatively quickly... easily distracted if upset, “gets over it” within a reasonable amount of time, a favorite toy/face/sound will soothe him/her
__ Excessively attached to a pacifier
__ Never attached to any comfort object, i.e., blanket, stuffed animal, rubbing something, pacifier, thumb, etc.
__ Doesn't reach for or hold toys (especially textured toys) at appropriate age
__ Closes hand if toy coming near it, or drops it immediately if placed in hand
__ When begins to walk, walks on tip toes only, will not put bare feet on ground/floor
__ Distressed by textured materials under themselves
__ Appears distressed by movement; i.e., a startled response, arches back, frightened look in eyes, etc.
__ Does not crawl before walks (or limited/different type of crawl) She's not walking yet, but I imagine she'll walk before she crawls. She does this scootching thing where she moves herself sitting with her heals, so I would say that would qualify as a 'different type of crawl'.
__ Craves movement, distressed if not moving, being swung, rocking, bouncing, rocks self constantly
__ Does not play reciprocally with caregivers or familiar people
__ Frequently engages in repetitive, non-purposeful play with one or two objects
__ Can not switch activities or participate in daily routines without distress when transitioning from one to another DCP has noticed this one, but we haven't. I guess sometimes she pitches a fit when they transition from playtime to feeding time and such.
__ Baby is not understood using language, cues, gestures, etc. and becomes frustrated frequently
__ Frequent head banging, hitting, biting, pinching, or hurting self or others She bangs her head on the back of her high chair. This one disconcerted me a bit when she started so I'd looked it up on the internet. I read that it could be a symptom of autism, and we're not concerned about autism with her given her progress socially. Another site said it could be a sign of genius. I just think it's a sign that she takes after her Dad. Who likes Gwar for crying out loud. She was born to be a head banger.
__ Breaks toys frequently
__ Unable to be gentle with animals
__ Appears uncoordinated, frequently bumps into things
__ Can not focus attention on play, caregiver, or toy long enough to interact (for age level)
__ Wanders around aimlessly or engages in non-purposeful activities in excess, i.e., spinning, rocking, staring at certain objects, etc...not interested in play or doesn't use objects for purposeful play

Looking at the vast see of black ink, I just don't think her symptoms make her anything more than, well, Zee. She's an interesting little tiny person who knows she can't stand the freakin' vacuum cleaner and covers her ears because it's the only way she knows how to try to keep the noise out. She also know she LOVES being tossed in the air by her Daddy and playing peek-a-boo with Mommy. She is perfectly imperfect. The only way I'd want her.

To the root of my question, a question which typing all of this out now has just helped me realize...Am I a bad Mom? A blind Mom? Because DCP and her harping are starting to make me feel that way. Oy. That was it. My biggest problem with all of this.

Thanks all, and I don't blame you one eensy bit if you didn't get through this whole thing.

Our House, Is a Very, Very, Very Fine House

In the event that you all might be even remotely interested in what we've been up to in the past half a year or so, aside from raising a kiddo, working like maniacs, and perilously ignoring my blog, I'm obliged to show you. I'm a little proud, you might just say.

But, before I share, things are looking good on Zee Baby's end. Quite literally. I'd show you pictures of her tushie, but that'd be, I don't know, illegal or something. At the very least it'd be improper. Just know that her diaper rash has begun to clear, thanks to your suggestions.

So, I've gone on about this house be bought and the McDonald's Playground-ness of it, so I figured I'd show you some before and after shots. The before photos are from our walk-through before we put in an offer.

Ta-da...(Because drumrolls are totally overrated.)

The Kitchen

Before...

Yes, in fact, that is a light blue cabinet thrown up in the middle there. For artistic measure, no doubt.

After...


Repainted, wood floor...


Some chochkes thrown in 'cause I'm a big fan of all things antique chochke...


Still have to paint the back door and the kitchen window trim white...

The Dining 'Room' (Being quite liberal here with the definition of a 'room')

Before...


Orange Crush fades to Lemon Yellow. Orange Crush = Good Song...Bad Color. Lemon Yellow = Good Lemon, Put one in My Lemon Drop Shot Please...Not so much a yummy color for my walls.


Teensy baby resting on owners' table (these were taken in June, about fifteen minutes later my one month old had a meltdown).

After...


Repainted window...Muchas plantas...


Still need to paint that window trim, too...


The Living Room/Hallway to Bathroom (Aw, heck, who am I kidding, the rooms downstairs are practically up each others' arses, but let's pretend their separate rooms.)

Before...


Nasty carpet meets lemon yellow...


A tapestry is a good way to cover up a wall covered in bricks that was partially painted lemon yellow. It would seem that painting bricks SUCKS. Big time. It is not a project worth following through. Tapestries are a quick fix. In case you doubt me or my predecessors and attempt to paint a brick wall just know that you should have a tapestry handy.



After...


Not ideal, super tiny, but it's currently working for us...The lack of living space is why, in a few years, we'll be doing a major remodel. That we're PAYING SOMEONE ELSE TO DO. Because I'm plain over the shit. There is talk of temporarily sending me to Jersey while the worst of it is going on. Z-Boy's idea. He's a smart man. If that happens, he'll be a smart alive man. Survival of the fittest.


Just in case you're super fucking nosy like me, close-ups of the photos.

In case you hadn't noticed, I don't particularly care that it's been deemed lower middle class to display photos in your living room...

Crooked, yeah. I know. But I can't be arsed to get all particular about that...

The Bathroom

Before...


Citrus colors dominated our living quarters. I'm convinced that the previous owners were constantly under the influence of vodka and tequila. And their respective citrus companions. Can't blame them.

After...


I'm not a huge fan of the haystack color on the walls, but it's a vast improvement... If you ask me.

The Hallway to Bath and Spare Room

Before...


Because who couldn't use a bottle of wine en route to the lime green loo.

After...


Because I'm all braggy niece-in-law...A chalk drawing Z-Boy's Uncle made us for our wedding...



The Downstairs Guest Room/Office Converted to Craft Room/Office

Before...



Nothing spectacular, albeit nothing completely assaulting to the ocular vessels...A welcome change.

After...


Still need to paint the window trim...


Notice the sewing machine my honey bought me today because he rocks that hard. And I think I might've said a million and one times that I'm SO glad I had a girl because now I can sew her clothes. Boys clothes are tougher. He couldn't rock harder if he had a vagina and was, well...me. Some guys are just lucky like that.



Closet Turned Zee's Room (the most exciting transformation yet, if you ask me)

There are two pretty teeny bedrooms upstairs. The couple before us used Zee's room as a master closet. It's about that size, to be honest...



After...


Orange Crush has its place...


Talk about maximizing space...


I received that rocking chair for my first birthday from my Mom-mom and Pop-pop. Love those kind of hand-me-downs. Actually, I LOVE all KINDS of hand-me-downs.


I'm not one for wallpaper borders but this one clutched me by the throat and said, "Put me on your registry, DAMMIT!" Love it.


My favorite feature of the room...the rug is cool, too.

The Master Bedroom

Before...



Even with daylight streaming through the ever-so-tiny window, you can barely see this room. Sometimes it's nice to move beyond primary colors, not that I'm an art teacher or anything. Thank Goddess.

After...


We've done the least with our bedroom...


It's intended for sleep. And it provides that well enough. So we'll leave it alone for now. At least I don't feel like I'm hibernating in a cave of Navy Blue-ness when I retire.

Well peeps, this took longer than I'd imagined, so I'm going to retire to my tan refuge.

Peace out...

Random Bits

Today I saw seven skiers, skis askew over their shoulders, walking paintstakingly in their ski boots out the lobby doors on their way to the chairlift. They were all in line. Upon seeing them, I instinctively started to sing, "Hi-ho, hi-ho..." I don't think they thought I was as funny as I did.

Last week a coworker and I were trying to nickname the seven people in the office. We were short one nickname, so I called my Mom.

Ring-Ring

Mom: Hello.

Z-Girl: Okay, so Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, and Sneezy. Who am I missing?

Mom: Umm, let me think, Doc, Happy, um, Bashful!

Z-Girl: Thanks.

You know, I could look these things up on the internet, but it's just not the same. Oh, I'm Doc, by the way. What can I say, I got first pick.

I'm feeling just awful for poor little Zee. She's got a raw tushie. Not that that's the kind of thing you prolly want to know, but hell, who asked you? Diaper rash sucks. And what kills me, is she's been absolutely cheery throughout the hole (Umm, not entirely an inappropriate typo) thing. I mean, I know how crotchety I get when my bung-hole is a little itchy and her whole ass is on fire and she's still smiling. What a trooper. I think she enjoys the 'Naked Time' I've implemented with the express interest of airing out her bottom. Come to think of it, who doesn't enjoy 'Naked Time'? Eh well, we're working on this diaper rash deal as best we can. Anyone have any suggestions? I was going to assk (Haha! Okay, these typos are killing me.) the Mommas, but I'm sure that anyone out there is capable of tossing out an amusing cure for what ails my poor little Zee. And that, my friends, I Am asking you. Whether you wanted to hear about this debacle or not.

This post was brought to you by Capitol Z

PS - Just fair warning...If you're considering 'dropping in' on someone who works in the ski industry in MARCH to discuss your future event, think again. Howz about you try calling and making an appointment. And it just might not be possible for another week or so. Certainly, it would impress you to know that the person you're wanting to meet with is MORE CONCERNED with the events she has currently taking place than ones that are in the future. Wouldn't you expect people to give your the same courtesy when she is busy attending to your event?

I'm Here...And Humble...

My life as a mother is still so colored by my miscarriages. Not necessarily the sadness of them. But the fact that I know, having had them, that other women struggle to have a baby, too. And some are in the midst of that struggle. And it breaks my heart.

There have been times when Zube Boy and I have been seated in a restaurant with Zee Baby. The hostess will attempt to seat a couple near us. And they'll ask to sit somewhere else. Sometimes I'm tempted to get all, 'Dude, my kid is totally well-behaved in restaurants, at least for now,' on them. Okay, maybe I actually have gotten all motherly proud like that to Zube Boy. But then I get a little sheepish. And I wonder if maybe it isn't the fact that my baby might misbehave that makes them want to sit elsewhere. Maybe they're trying to have one, too. And it's hard. Fucking hard. Maybe I was one of those people. Yes. I was.

I'm remiss to 'show off' Zee Baby. Ever. When I'm at work on Sundays, Zee randomly joins me. It's difficult as HELL to find daycare on Sundays! A problem I am lucky as hell to have. Anyway, I try NEVER to get all goofy grinned, Tee-hee, isn't my baby CAH-UTE! while checking people in to the screechy tune of her "MA-MA-MA-MA!" I AM proud glowy Mom, when people ask, and go nuts over her, but when they don't, I maintain whatever professionalism I can in such a situation.

I just never know who might be struggling in my midst. And I KNOW how that feels. Actually, wait. I DON'T know how that feels. Not anymore. I can try to remember. But I can't fully FEEL what it's like to stare the what if's in the face. What if? What if I NEVER carry a baby to term? What if I'm NEVER a mother the conventional way? What if I'm NEVER a mother?

I don't know how that feels anymore. And while I thank goddess every day I DO know what it's like to be a mother, I am a mother. I'm no longer able to say, "I KNOW how you feel. And it sucks." All I can say now is, "I used to know how you feel. And it sucks." Even writing that feels crushingly arrogant. But I hope no one takes it that way.

I don't know. I've been thinking about this a bit lately. I do pipe up when people dote on Zee. I let them know she was hard-earned. I also let them know how I was entirely NOT relaxed. Because if I can help in ANY fucking way, I would like it to be by dispelling that whole fucking 'JUST RELAX!' myth. That one. Ugh. Fucking hated that one.

Nothing about my pregnancy with Zee was 'relaxed'. Not her conception. Not unless one could consider taking my temperature every morning and timing sex 'relaxed'. Not about her early weeks in utero. When I thought I was miscarrying her, too. Thought I HAD miscarried in fact, and took all the cold medicine in the world to rid myself of the non-crying-induced sniffles. The curable ones. Not during my entire pregnancy. Bleeding for the first 20 weeks, bedrest for the next 16. Naturally, I only share these things when I deem it appropriate. Because I am the Queen of Propriety. Ha! Not a chance. But, really. I just want people to know, if they're thinking of asking their niece-in-law when in the hell she is planning to have children, rethink that please. And don't tell her to fucking relax if she responds, "Well, it's hard." You just never know.

I pray like fucking hell that those of you who want babies join me where I am now. Be it through luck, medicine, adoption, all of the above. Some of the above. Don't lose hope. Until you're over it. And you'll know when you are. And I don't blame you one tiny bit if where I am now distances us a bit. I can't fully understand it anymore. But I do. I'll hold your hand. And I'm grateful for our friendship.

Well, like that made a damn bit of sense. I'm feeling sleepy. And introspective. And out. Peace.

I Have a Hairy Ass

Or, not quite, but it's getting there.

In other words, my hair is really fucking long. Wait, let me show you a picture.

Hang on. (It's kind of cool how you won't be hanging on for long because by the time I post this, with picture, you'll see it all instantaneous-like. Nifty how that works.)




So, yeah. It's long. And Zube Boy wants me to cut it.

So does my Mom.

So does Hoot.

My Belle doesn't. Well, she thinks I should get a trim. I happen to agree, but I'm struggling with whether to JUST get it trimmed or get it totally cut.

I haven't asked my Dad, but I'm willing to bet he'll say not to get it cut. He likes long hair.

I think I've maxed out Bro with the girly talk back in the miscarriage days. I've lamented the state of my uterus to him, and he was a good sport about it. I don't want to push it.

Here's the deal. I'm ATTACHED to my hair. Like, really attached. And have been for a while. As it's been to me. I mean, I'm willing to bet that there is incriminating evidence in my split ends somewhere. And we all know how long ago those days were for me. Well, maybe we don't, but I do.

Sometimes I find hair that's gotten tangled in the errant threads of my underpants, because who the hell has the money to be buying new underwear these days? And that hair belongs on the BATHROOM SHOWER WALLS, NOT in the intricacies of my unmentionables, donchya know.

It's a hairy situation, I tell ya. And I'm remiss to make up my mind. So I prolly won't. Not anytime soon, anyway.

Shana-na-na...Na-na-na-na...Hey, Hey, Hey...

Good-bye!

Ha! Made ya look!

You know, actually, maybe it's kind of mean of me to mess with you like that. You being those who find my blog more or less these days by searching for things like 'shrinking girl' and 'girl fucking boy' and 'what should a girl do after a miscarriage (Honey, I am so, so sorry you are going through a that) and those of you who maybe are checking to see if I've posted SOMETHING (thanks for checking in Junebee and Rich). I guess we don't know each other like we used to, but perhaps this is one of those friendships that picks up right where it left off. Here's to hoping...

Contrary to popular assumption upon reading that title, I'm not alluding to my departure from the blogging world, for, as you have seen, I need no formal announcement to do such a thing as that! I am not giving up on my blog just yet. I've still got my big toe in that partially open door. And a bit of my face as can be seen in the rudimentary illustration I've made for you below. To close the door completely would be...a bloody affair. And maybe a little crunchy, too. Ouch.



I was just sending out an official goodbye to my trusted friend, the IUD. The Post-Partum Pregnancy Preventer. I have been so fond of my IUD, obliterating any need for thought or planning on my part. No specific time of the day to take a pill. Nor the need to remember to take a pill at all. It's been wondermous. And also a little interesting to be taking a (grateful) journey with such a character that would PREVENT pregnancy. Who'da thunk it? Not me. At least not about two years ago.

Anyway, I'm so thrilled with my IUD and our newly forged, though short-lived, friendship, that I've drawn an ode to it.



As you'll notice, it's, um, abstract. Straight lines and whatnot. A VERRRRRY loose interpretation of the real thing. Which is a damn good thing because I'd hate to have something that pointy up in my cervix for any amount of time. I'd imagine something that pointy would prevent pregnancy for sure. And sex, for that matter.

So, yeah. Done with that. We'll see what happens on the sister-brother for Little Zee front. I'm hoping this time I'll manage to be a little less obsessed. Ha! As if...

Moving along...I figure after such a long blog sabbatical (as I've taken to calling it, sounds so much more...less...slackerific) I should give you the "how's things?" of things.

Well, things are things are things. I'll update you on a few pertinent aspects of my life. Oh, and I'm going to probably make up for lost time with a ton of writing on my part. Ergo, a ton of reading on yours. You've been forewarned.

Zee Baby



She just rocks. Holy shit, you guys, I had NO IDEA how rewarding being a mother would be. Not a fucking clue. I love her to the ends of the earth and back. From the little bitty toe-toes on her teeny, tiny Zube feet to the tippity top of her big old Zube Boy head. I still, ten months after her arrival, tip-toe into her room at night, more than once most times, to stare at her. I can't believe how fucking lucky I am. I only hope as she grows up she feels 1% as lucky to have me and Zube Boy as we are to have her.

I'm finding motherhood to suit me. As if you couldn't tell. Rather than go on and on about it, I'll just let you know that you can still follow her antics here. If I didn't update that blog regularly some relatives would probably hunt me down and kill me and steal my baby. So it's always up to date.

Work

Grr...It's Spring Break. And I work at a hotel. 'Nuff said.

Roomba

Hump it less but love it more.

Zube Boy

He's over it with the Cookie Crisp. Now he's digging Oh's. Still enjoying bathtime. No change on that front.

Home(s)

We still have three houses. Meh.

Our renters are totally cool, though. It's just so weird. Like, the other day, I went to pick up the rent at the house we used to live in when Zee Baby was born. It was the first time I'd been there since the renters moved in. I've kind of avoided going there because I can be a sentimental fuck when it strikes my fancy. Which is often.

The renters are youngish. And dudish. But not the annoying kind of spikey hat, I'm too cool, dudish. The kind I like. The kind Zube Boy probably was before he got married and owned a house/houses and became a Daddy. Anyway, they were cold chillin' with their snowboard posters on the wall, and I just kept glancing over at the spot where our couch was; where my water broke at 3AM on May 16th, 2007. And it was so hard to get my head around the fact that the spot where I was once upon a time made aware of Zee's imminent arrival, now likely sees more bong action than baby bouncing on a knee action. A tear did stir in mine eye. I miss that house.

But it's kept clean. It's respected. And that I dig.

The house we live in now is really cool. Lots of potential. Much smaller than the one we moved out of but with lots of awesome storage. And when you're a pack rat like me, storage is key. I'll post photos soon. We've painted and put down wood floors and it now doesn't bear so much of a resemblence to the play area in McDonald's (I mean, SERIOUSLY! Bright yellow living room, navy blue cabinets, and a lime green bathroom? All within view of one another? What were you thinking?). We've got a nice big yard that is totally snowed in but will be (and was) quite lovely in our short summer months. We have a fire pit. And nice neighbors who adore Zee. Whom, I've convinced myself, will be lovely grandparenty type people to her as she gets older. Much more auspicious than our previous neighbor situation. And let's not forget the nose puncher on the other side. Yeah. Don't miss the neighborhood.

Politics

I'm drinking the Obama kool-aid these days. Yes I am. It just seems to me it would be nice to have someone people on both sides can get behind for once. We've been divided for long enough. And I've heard Independents and Republicans say they'd vote for him. So I'll enjoy this sugary juice for a bit. I don't especially care whose kool-aid you're drinking. Just, you know, care or something.

Haven't done much on the Pro-Choice front. I should probably reconnect with Planned Parenthood. My previous contact is no longer there, but I should make myself available to whoever is there now.

News of Note

As soon as March is done, perhaps I'll be less work and more play. And more write. That sounds nice. I'm getting sleep now (and plenty of it! Zee sleeps from 6PM - 6AM. It fucking rocks!).

I'll be scampering off to Jersey in the beginning of May to see my most awesome neice and nephew and the rest of the fam. Can't wait. I'm totally stoked.

Well, that's what's new and old with me. Let me know if you're still reading so I can check you out, too. In a way, this blog thing got a little out of hand. I really like the whole reciprocity of the reading and writing. You getting to know me. Me getting to know you. Now that I've disenchanted a large population with my disappearance, maybe I'll be able to enjoy the bloggy neighborhood a little more than I was.

I'm out. Still think of you all fondly on those evening tip-toed sojourns into my little girl's room. I can't thank you enough for supporting me throughout a pregnancy that, months out, I could brush off as being breezy. But in the throes of it was scary and lonely and dragging. I love you for keeping me sane, and insane, throughout. And you're partially responsible for the fact that Zee Baby is here. I'll remember that when she's fifteen and tells me she hates me. After she slams the door to her room, I shall spin around and hunt you down. And thank you again.