Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Getting Back on the Horse...

The road trip went well, despite pretty rotten weather. It rained almost the entire time we were gone, but the sun came out blazing bright and beautiful just after we started down the highway on the return trip. Mikro was exceptionally good. I brought a portable bed rail, and he slept in my bed. Never used the portable playpen. We introduced him to the pool, which was a loud screaming flop. He absolutely hates being in the water. (I probably should have foreseen that, considering he hates baths...) I bought him some really cool birthday presents at the Wild Bird country store in Great Barrington. We had brunch at the red Lion Inn in Stockbridge one morning, and cooked the rest of the time. R is really great with Mikro. She gives him airplane rides, and raspberries on the tummy and rocks him to sleep when he's cranky. It was fun.

Got home and fought with my husband, who doesn't like me posting anything even remotely critical of him here (i.e., the laundry post), so I have to reevaluate whether I'll bitch and moan about him on the blog...

The big news is, I just bought a car (a used but spiffy electric blue PT Crui5er) but am terrified to drive it. (There's an explanation of my driving problem in my 100 Things...) I am probably going to take lessons, since it has been 10 years since I've driven. I really don't want to drive at all. But with Mikro, I need to. So I'm trying to be a grownup and work through my anxiety and do what I need to.

Of course, predictably, my parents are totally unsupportive. My father thinks I'm an idiot for spending the money. My mother ever so helpfully inquires: So what are you going to do when you have a panic attack at the wheel? and Don't you think you're putting Mikro at risk?

Thanks for the coup de grace to any vestiges of calm or confidence, folks...

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

Road Trip

I'm going to be away for the next couple days. My good friend R and I are going to drive up to her condo in the Berkshires and soak in the hot tub. We're taking Mikro along, and may even give him his first ever swimming lesson in the indoor pool. I really wish Kev was coming along to help out in the pool, but he's in a crabby mood over the turn of his personal decade yesterday... so he's staying home alone.

At the moment, I'm doing my sixth load of laundry, and there are probably at least five more to go. I have a list of stuff to pack, and it's time to get cracking on finding things. Portable play pen, baby gate, stroller, diapers, swim diapers, spoon, clothing, toys, books, favorite blankie, wet wipes... Mikro needs his own personal Quartermaster Corps... And then there's my stuff. Good thing R drives a gigantic SUV. We may just be able to cram two days worth of Mikro's baggage train into it.

Passive Aggressive About Laundry?

My husband hasn't cleaned the cat litter in awhile. Because I have really bad allergies and a touch of asthma, I don't go downstairs to the basement when there is alot of litter dust and dirty litter. So when he doesn't take care of the cat's business, it devolves to him to take care of the laundry.

In fact, he orders me to stay out of the basement until he gets around to cleaning the litter...

Which means that I expect that the laundry will get done. All the laundry. His, mine and the Boy's. However, what inevitably happens is, his laundry gets done, and Mikro and I see maybe 2 clean panties and some socks... Worse yet, he has dumped the laundry on the dusty basement floor and walked on it.

So today I go down there and nearly have a stroke over the disaster that I find.

He claims he doesn't intentionally only do his own clothing and treat my stuff and the baby's stuff worse than garbage; it's purely accidental. But I am beginning to realize the universe just does not host coincidences this freaking big. And then there's the fact that he will wash dishes, but leave my tea cups and coffee mugs, because he doesn't drink coffee or tea, and they must have been mine, so I guess that means he doesn't have to clean them...

Where he gets these ideas I do not know. It never gets resolved either, because Kev doesn't even argue about it, he just assumes that while he is free to pick which messes he will deal with, everything else falls to me by default.

If I had ten minutes free to get anything done without a toddler trying to climb my leg, it wouldn't be so bad. But it is reaching ridiculous proportions.

I know he hates doing laundry. I don't like it, but I am willing to do it, ALL OF IT, so long as I don't risk a broken leg or bronchitis from the condition he leaves the basement in.

And finding some of my favorite shirts chewed to ribbons by the dog did nothing to improve matters.

ARGH!

Monday, March 22, 2004

Happy B-day

Happy Birthday to Kevin, the boy I fell in love with, the man I married, and my son's absolutely awesome daddy!
You are the love of my life, honey!

Sunday, March 21, 2004

Crying Over Spilt Milk

We were getting ready to go up to the mall yesterday to buy a camcorder. We have no movies of the Boy's first 11 months of life, but I wanted to be sure we'd have his Birthday preserved for posterity. We go so seldom that when we do go, we try to run every conceivable errand. So one of the many things on our list was to go to home depot and pick up wood to put a rail on the plant shelf, so Mikro doesn't dump 20 pounds of potting soil on my couch... or his head...

So, in aid of that little task, Kevin asked me to measure the shelf...

So genius woman sticks the tape measure up under what she thinks is an empty cup, takes the measurement, and then pulls out the tape. Let's just say the cup wasn't empty. I managed to dump 16 ounces of milk into the fully packed diaper bag, and all over the couch...

My husband watches me getting more and more upset over the soaked diapers, clothing, wallet and checkbook and says:

No use crying over spilt milk!

Of course, when we finally cleaned up and got to the mall, we forgot all about the stupid piece of wood that caused the deluge.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Baseline Dysfunction Level Restored

My mom called to talk to the boy again. I picked up. Apparently we are pretending nothing happened...

Happy Anniversary! Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Today is my 13th Wedding Anniversary. We got married on St. Patrick's Day and spent our honeymoon in Ireland. On that happy day in 1991, I would not have believed it possible, but the truth is, I love my husband more every year. He has stuck by me through some truly tough times, and I will always be grateful to have him in my life.

Here's some wedding pictures...








And links to a couple more...
wedding photo;
wedding party;

engagement photo.



And here we are today, a family:




Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Snowing, Snarking and Stressing

Yesterday it was 52 degrees F and sunny. Today, there's over an inch of snow on the ground... Still not talking to mom, still bummed out and stress eating like a fool. Boy woke up screaming several times last night. It was gas. We were short on sleep when the dog added to the joy at 5:30 am by having diarrhea all over the floor and then lying down in it. I've been up and running her out the door every hour or so ever since. At least Boy has had a couple of naps. Wish I could say the same!

Creepy Meme Results

Got this meme from Judy:

1. Enter just your first name into Google
2. Then click the "Images" tab
3. Pick your favorite and post it in your journal.

My results were creepy! Seriously Creepy! A tower constructed of skulls.

Apparently the photo has been removed.

Women's History Month

First I heard of it was a commercial on NBC. So, anyone want to tell me, who are your female heroes?

I must admit, far more of my heroes growing up were male, which I suspect has everything to do with the school curriculum way back when...

Women I can remember admiring as a kid:

Clara Barton, Marie Curie, Joan of Arc, Jane Austen, Amelia Earhart.

I wish the list was longer. Think I will go Google Women's History Month and try to add to it.

If ... Then

Just something I am pondering.

If you don't agree with me, then...

Far Right: You're a traitor / terrorist sympathizer.

Far Left: You're a war monger / bigot.

Religiously Dogmatic: You're going to hell.

My mother: You're a bad mother.

My father: You're an idiot.

My husband: So what else is new?

Me: So what?

Life would be so much more pleasant if people could just agree to disagree and respect those holding different ideas and beliefs. Tolerance and compassion are in way too short supply these days.

Monday, March 15, 2004

Not a Long Enough Distraction...

My friend C came down to visit today. Her dad just had back surgery and is recovering well. Since she was in the area to see him, she dropped by to visit with Mikro and me. We had some girl talk, and she got to play with Danger Boy, who actually is behaving remarkably well today. Too bad C could only stay an hour. She's got an appointment with her car mechanic.

Mikro is now absolutely fascinated with cars. He rolls his cars and trucks around on his baby couch for hours. When he is crying seemingly inconsolably, he'll pause for a car commercial, or a NASCAR race! Unfortunately, he'll usually start right up again once the cars go away.

He also adores James Earl Jones. Guess it's that amazing voice. And the breakdancing in the Verizon commercials really gets his attention...

Still teething, and still biting his mama at every opportunity. Yesterday he bit me on the face, which I really didn't like. I can't wait till this boy has all his choppers and quits using me for a chew toy.

Dark Days and Less Than Perfect Childhoods

I'm walking Churchill's black dog. I am well and truly depressed.

I hate being at odds with my mom. And yet, I don't feel I can back down, because she needs to understand that I will not be manipulated by guilt trips, and that attempts to use my son against me in that way are way way out of bounds. Boundaries-- an unfamiliar concept in my family!

For the record, you will not get me to do what you want by telling me I'm a bad mother if I don't. All you will accomplish is hurting me and pushing me away. If alienation is the goal, have at it. I will not apologize for standing up for myself.

If people can't respect that I am an adult, can't respect my right to make decisions, whether they like them or not, then being alone may not be the worst thing that could happen to me.


I say this on a day when I feel utterly desolate, abandoned, and unloved, feelings that pretty well define my childhood. My parents love me because I am their daughter. But my father has never LIKED me. I've gotten used to that.

I have always been independent, always known my own mind. I was never as malleable and subservient as he wanted. Even as a kid, I would stand up for what I believed in. It drove him crazy, and led to my father labelling me selfish, even though I never asked for money or things.

Apparently having self respect and being true to yourself makes you selfish. So be it.

What is strange about the current situation is that, for most of my life, my mother has been quietly supportive of me. She never tried to change me, or make me fit the mold my father wanted me to fit. Which would be a fourteenth century servile wench. Dutiful, uncreative, unimaginative, blindly obedient.

Instead, I was outspoken, unapologetically intelligent, creative, and deliberately weird and rebellious. My brother was quiet, and intimidated, and closer to what was wanted in a daughter, whereas I was what a son should have been. I was often told that my father wished he could switch his children's personalities. My usual response to this was No thanks!

Through all of that, my mother liked me the way I was. Or so it seemed. Now I have to wonder, because ever since I had my son, she is critical, judgmental, and wants me to blindly fall into line and parent their way.

That is not going to happen.

I know my parents did the best they could. Generally, not having the perfect childhood is just a fact of life I accept, no different than my eye color or height. I don't spend alot of time trying to blame them, or regretting what was and wishing it otherwise. I am a realist about it. What I have tried to do, is remember the things I disagree with, and try not to repeat them.

I know how badly words can wound, and I am scrupulously careful about what I say to my son. I want him to hear on a daily basis the things I did not: That he is wonderful just the way he is. That he is a worthwhile human being, loved absolutely and unconditionally for who he already is, not who I would like to turn him into. That if I don't like a behavior, it doesn't mean I don't like him.

I do not believe in letting him cry it out. All I ever felt was abandoned, so this philosophy just isn't for me. My eleven month old son sleeps in my bed. My parents think this makes me a hippy and a freak. So be it.

I am not going to change my beliefs just because they do not approve. I didn't do it when I was twelve, and I'm not going to do it now.

Despite the bad times, I do love my parents and want them around, in my life and in Mikro's. But if the cost of their participation is my sacrificing my identity, then I am prepared to be alone.

Some prices are too high to pay.

So, having drawn my line in the sand, it's up to them to accept the boundaries I have set, or not.

I can only do what I think is right. I can only be myself. If that's unacceptible, then I'm unacceptible.

So be it.

Sunday, March 14, 2004

Dysfunction Freeforall

My husband is snoring on the couch, the Boy zonked out beside him in his Kangaroo Rocker seat. The house is still a mess and the only thing ticked off the to do list is my dr's appointment.

Yesterday I saw my psychiatrist, who is talking about putting me on all new meds once I'm done breastfeeding. This scares me, because I hate drugs, and the new ones sound scary, and because, franky, I'm not done breastfeeding, and I don't know when I will be, but the entire world (OK- just my local corner, but that's more than I can handle) seems to think enough is enough already.

Me, I figure Mikro will quit when he's ready to, and I have no interest in rushing him. Don't get me wrong, there are times when he's teething and gets nippy, or when he seems to be auditioning for the USA gymnastics team while nursing, that it flashes through my mind that weaning might not be such a bad thing. But the vast majority of the time, I am thrilled that I can do something so simple that brings so much joy, comfort and sustenance to my child.

So, no plans on being rushed into anything...

My mother is being really weird. She is apparently just as pissed at me over the other day as I am at her (though I did not say an uncivil word, just told her "sorry, I'm not going to sit here and listen to this. I'll talk to you later" and hung up. ) She's the one who called me a freak, and by implication, none too subtle, a bad mother. I will not put up with that. Nor will I volunteer for it by calling her until she apologizes.

So, rather than be an adult and deal with me, she calls and talks to the answering machine, either when she knows I'm likely to be out, or leaving a too short a message for there to be any chance I will pick up the phone.

The messages are for the baby, not me. "Hello, Michael. Nutty Grandma loves you. Bye."

I truly do not know what to make of this.

Why can't my family ever just love me without trying to change me, or drive me stark raving mad?

Sigh.

The sickest part of all of this? I really miss my mommy.

Thursday, March 11, 2004

Crummy Correlations

I'm not talking to my mom .: I'm depressed and stressed .: Today I bought Entemanns crumb donuts.

So much for my no-refined-sugar vow.

Sigh. The perfect way to end a crummy day.


Needy

Oh, my, Mikro's feeling needy. All day yesterday he cried the moment I set him down. I guess we have reached the separation anxiety stage... It doesn't help that he's pulling my hair, pinching and biting constantly...

I hope this is a stage he outgrows rapidly.

I'm starting to think about his first birthday party, which will be next month. (He'll be 11 months next Thursday.) It will probably be a fairly small group, mostly family, and I'm thinking that I'll bake the cake and make baked ziti and eggplant parmagiana (if I get my oven fixed!) We'll see...

He did one super cute thing yesterday, though. I had folded up the sheet that I use as a breastfeeding coverup and left it on the coffee table. While I was in the kitchen making a cup of tea, he pulled it down on the floor, smushed it up into a nest, and lay down on it and fell asleep. Pretty big deal, because he actually went down on his own, without boobie!

I wish I had been able to get to a camera, but I know I would have woken him up trying. And Mikro woken up before he's good and ready is anything but cute!

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Found the Answer to My Question

Free stats tracking is available via Statcounter.com.

Can Anyone Tell Me...

I've seen on other blogs from time to time that some bloggers are able to figure out what google searches are leading people to their blog. Does anyone (of the maybe eight people who actually read this) know how to do that?

And A Bit of Silliness

To the tune of Come On Eileen:

Cmon Baboo
Well ya know what I do
I clean your butt
And your peepee too
Lie on your back
Oh and please don't act whack
Cmon Baboo
Let me diaper you-oo!


Yes, I'm nuts...

Editted due to the reaction I got that this was gross to clarify: This is something I sing to my ten month old baby while changing his diaper.

I guess I can see how someone might construe it otherwise, but if you know my blog, it's pretty obviously about the kid, not something perverse.

Whew

Danger Boy just gave me a bit of hope that he won't land in the emergency room... He just scooted down off the couch on his belly, feet first, as we have been trying to teach him for the last three months. Usually he would just crawl to the edge and proceed to attempt to hurl himself head first into the ground, but today, with no prompting whatsoever, he chose to do it the right way!

Woohoo!

or should I say

Whew!

Major sigh of relief time, though I know better than to think this means I don't have to watch him like a hawk... Now maybe I can be mildly worried, instead of utterly panic stricken...

We Don't Need No Education -or- A Freak Like Me

I figured out another reason why my mother pissed me off so much yesterday.

Earlier in the day, I had mentioned to her an argument that Kev and I had over the weekend, and she used what I told her to push the same button that he had to hurt me.

REWIND:

Over the weekend, I was reading the current issue of Mothering magazine, which has an article about Waldorf education. It was interesting, and I wanted to learn more. So I did an Amazon search on books about Waldorf for preschoolers, and homeschooling as well.

Not because I have made any decisons whatsoever about Mikro's education, other than that I will see to it he gets the very best possible.

In fact, I rather hope he goes to our local public school, for which we are paying astronomical school tax, because it will mean I get a part of the day back to devote to my artwork. But if I find out he will not be well served there, then I will do whatever is necessary, including homeschooling.

So I found a bunch of books to start doing some research on different educational philosophies and methods, because I know I am woefully ignorant on the topic.

My husbands reaction? To blast me for being ridiculous: Really, Chele, this is overkill. He's only a year old (not quite), so why do you want to do this now?

Why? Because I think there is alot to learn, and I want to be able to make informed choices about his education. I want to understand all the options.

For which I get: FRANKLY, ALL THIS TALK ABOUT ALTERNATIVES IS SCARING ME. IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU'RE GOING TO TURN HIM INTO A HERMIT LIKE YOU.

Which I hear as, you are going to turn our kid into a freak just like you.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I am talking to my mom and tell her what Kev said, and how much it hurt me, as someone with my disabilities, never suspecting that, just a couple hours later, she would throw it back in my face.

So at the moment, I am not planning on calling my mother today. Because I just can't stand this kind of hitting below the belt.

My husband and I worked it out. He apologized for making me feel like a freak, and we compromised a bit. I bought maybe half the books I was planning on buying about early childhood education.

My parents and I have alot of philosopical differences. They constantly make remarks like: Oh my God, you're such a hippy! I don't know where we got you!

Sometimes their narrow mindedness really surprises and disappoints me. But, unlike them, I never resort to ridicule and name calling. I just chalk it up to their being products of a different time, and let it go.

I know there is no convincing them that the things I believe in (extended breastfeeding, co-sleeping, attachment parenting, tolerance and respect for all people regardless of our differences) are valid.

I just wish they would return the favor and live and let live, instead of trying to convince me that I am a stupid naieve child who should blindly adopt the sometimes questionable wisdom of her elders.

In thirty eight years, they haven't figured out that I think for myself.

That's pretty sad.


Tuesday, March 09, 2004

Our Weekend To Do List

Because my brain is made of swiss cheese:

-Install wall mounted baby gates on stairway.

-Add lip to plant shelf so Boy can't pull massive flowerpots down on his head.

-Add center supports to massively overloaded bookcase.

-Go see my shrink.

To be continued...

Be Afraid...

Heaven help me. Today Mikro mastered climbing up onto the couch all by himself...

Grumblefest

I am now in a certifiably foul mood, having had my mother snark at me about my messy house for nigh onto an hour.

Ugh. Enough is enough. I am 38 years old. Stop telling me to go clean my room already.

Yes, my house is a mess.

It is not DIRTY.

It is cluttered.

Most of the clutter is books and magazines, because my eggheaded husband and his geeky wife actually like -- no, love-- to read, and we tend to acquire reading material faster than we can get through it.

So fucking crucify me already. What a sin, for my son to be raised by people who love learning, in a home surrounded by books!

Tell me that I am a bad mother, because my house is messy, and I am inevitably going to socially stunt my kid because of your perception that I do not wish to entertain because my messy house embarasses me.

Never mind that you gave me a dog that I don't trust to freely interact with my own kid, let alone a pack of small fast moving unpredictable strangers, which is ample reason for me to limit playdates to stuff at the park, or in the back yard. Never mind that I have PTSD and agoraphobia, and can't stand being around large groups of people (because I will even attempt to deal with things that may trigger me, for my son's sake.)

Nevermind that this comes from my side of the family-- the side that NEVER EVER allowed us to have friends over! Think that has anything to do with my so called weird hermit ways?!?!?!?

BUT HEAR THIS: I am an adult. It's my mess. I like it that way, for the most part. Yes, I would like to improve things, but on my own terms, on my own timetable, and, whether it's a personal failing or not, at this point, I am not all that embarassed by it. Certainly not enough that I will actually bar the door. If I get even a few hours notice, I will let people in and make a joke about being a descendant of Oscar Madison and the Collyer Brothers. Embarassment is only one small contributing factor to the long list of reasons that I generally do not wish to open up my home to guests.

Guess what- in the name of providing proper socialization for my son, I will let Mikro's little friends and their mommies in, when necessary, but I will confine them to the childsafe living room. I will graciously laugh off not so gracious comments about how much junk we own. I will attempt, when at all possible, to schedule outings to the park instead. I will paste a smile over my anxiety, and attempt to make small talk, when I would rather run for the hills and baricade myself into my messy but SAFE house, all so my son can have a shot at life as a healthy self confident person. And sometimes I may even be able to enjoy myself, if there isn't a huge crowd, and I am not really badly triggered.

There are an awful lot of things I am prepared to do for my son's sake that I am far from comfortable with.

But I will not, at my age, be harrangued, insulted, guilt-tripped and generally red-assed about my housekeeping skills by my parents. Sorry.

Monday, March 08, 2004

And Even More Mikro Tricks....

Today he figured out how to flush the toilet. I can just see my water bill tripling...

He has been gleefully tossing my shampoo bottle into the tub for several weeks now. Today he decided that empty toilet paper rolls also belong in there. (I keep a few around to distract him with while I use the facilities... He likes to roll them across the bathroom floor and giggle.)

Most worrisome of all, though, is his sudden desire to climb into the bath tub. He is actually tall enough to get a knee up onto the rim.

Scares me to death!

Sunday, March 07, 2004

More New Mikro Tricks

Before I forget...

He has learned about pushing buttons.

I had to disconnect the bedroom phone, because he's dialing it.

He now erases my answering machine messages.

And he loves changing channels on the TV. He's been playing with the remote for months now, but this week he discovered the buttons on the TV itself, and his mission in life is to tune to channel 3 and watch the static. Eeew. Shades of the movie Poltergeist...

He's also learned to play ball. When I say throw it to Mommy, he'll lob or roll it in my direction, and we can keep going back and forth.

He definitely understands alot of what we say, and follows simple commands. Since 7 months, he's been opening his mouth on demand, and he's known come to mommy or come to daddy since about the same time. But drop that and no and get away from there are new additions to his skill set.

Grandma's Visit

My mom went home yesterday. I always hate it when it's time for her to leave. She's not just my mom, she's a buddy. And it's nice to be able to sit down and have a cup of tea with her in real life, instead of over the telephone.

But my mom is a serious nervous wreck around Mikro.-

She loves him fiercely.

But I guess it's been a long while since she's been around a baby, and she has forgotten that crying doesn't always signal a major life threatening illness, or horrible injury. Every time my son cries, my mom becomes absolutely panicked: What's wrong with the baby?

And she doesn't believe me when I say, Nothing, he's just overstimulated and needs to get it out of his system.

Which is generally what it is when she visits, because she constantly interacts with him, whereas when it's just me, he gets some downtime while I make lunch, or have a cup of tea, or check my email. She doesn't leave him to his own devices at all, and is always trying to entertain him. Which is fine. She only gets to see him in small doses, so she is just trying to cram in as much baby love as she can when she's here. I just wish it didn't give her panic attacks when the inevitable happens and the boy gets fussy.

Anyway, now that she's back home, I can get to the computer again. She definitely doesn't approve of my blogging, so I try not to do it when she's here...

It was a hectic visit. She arrived Wednesday afternoon, and we went out with Mikro to do some grocery shopping and also hit the thrift store. My mom used to be squeamish about second hand stuff, but I have made her into a real bargain hunter, it seems. We go every time she visits!

Thursday is the anniversary of my Accident, so it was a tense day for me-- actually, I think Wednesday was worse. Anyway, to distract myself, we went mall crawling, and I engaged in one of my not so brilliant coping mechanisms-- spending too much money... But Mikro got a whole new spring wardrobe out of it, as Old Navy had tremendous sales going on.

Friday was supposed to be a quiet day. We stayed home, and Mikro had a meltdown, which really made my mom crazy. She was crying and absolutely convinced that she caused it because he was trying to play with something he shouldn't have, and she said No. Which made her think he was pissed at her.

Really, he's teething, as evidenced by his frequent attempts to bite me, and he was taken to too many new places for his little body to absorb all the input, and instead of taking a nap to help himself, he got into a cycle of fighting sleep, all of which spells cranky, screaming baby.

My mom took it personally. I tried to explain it to her, and I think she finally got it, but she's just dysfunctional about the baby crying... Which leads to more stress for me, but hopefully she'll grow out of this!

Mikro's much more pleasant now that we are back to our regular routine.

He's eating like a horse, and growing way too fast. He's letting go of the furniture and standing on his own, and took one sort of graceless, half-hearted step the other day, so we are anxiously awaiting the walking milestone. What I am truly dreading is the next inch or so of height he attains, because that will give him the ability to climb up on the furniture, and I will have to start worrying about him falling off... It doesn't help that he seems to like the idea of hurling himself off of things. We call him DB (Danger Boy) for a reason!

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

100 Things

Well, I finally made it to 100. Here it is. Probably more than anyone ever wanted to know and then some...

Signs of Spring

Today the first crocus is open in my shaggy neglected garden. Spring must be near! I can't wait to be spending more time outdoors. I am deep in the throes of cabin fever and really really need some good weather soon. Of course, it's supposed to be warm for he next coupleof days, but constantly raining...

Kev and I are at odds because of the inevitable arguments that arise when we try to clean up for company. Last night he snarked at me constantly, and considering tomorrow is my trauma aniversary, I thought I was doing an admirable job of not rising to the bait...

As we are getting ready togo to bed, he says: You're such a friiging control freak about [cleaning up] your way.

My response (after biting my tongue): Pot, kettle.

Sigh. The place is still a mess. But my mom is sort of resigned to that by now.

Someday, I would like to be able to have people over without being ashamed of how my house looks. It's not dirty. Just extremely cluttered, and we have so much crap that we have really run out of places to put it. So we basically have the Museum of Junk.

Tuesday, March 02, 2004

Why? and Walking...

Why is just about everybody I read suddenly password protecting their blog? And without notice, or leaving anyway for people to contact them and ask to be allowed to read, most of the time. What bizarre fear inducing trend have I managed to miss? Or is it just a coincidence? Are people being discovered by real-life acquaintances they would rather not hae reading? Or getting abusive comments? Hmmm. Many of the folks who have done the password thing are on the same message boards (which I haven't been around much lately because real life is so crazy at the moment...) Is there a troll involved? Passwording seems like such alopt of bother to go to. If I ever get to the point where I am that worried, I'll just quit writing. I dunno. I like finding new people to read, and following people I will probably never meet in real life, but have grown to care about. Isn't that the whole point of blogging? Putting it out there, and hopefully touching people, and being touched? Otherwise, why not just have a static old boring web page, or keep a paper journal? I dunno. I can honestly say, I will never go the password route. But that's just my own particular brand of weird talking.

Hmm. On to other stuff.

Big Dog made it through the night without pooping. Maybe she's on the mend! She was also good all morning. She's been out in the run most of the afternoon, because I had to go out for awhile and run errands. Took Mikro in the stroller and went to the bank to get some legal papers notarized, picked up Little Dog's insulin and syringes, and stopped for coffee. Little Man was a perfect angel throughout.

There's a really steep hill between Here and There. Pushing my big boy up that hill on the return trip just demonstrated how badly out of shape you can get sitting on your butt indoors all winter. I haven't been walking in ages, and it shows! My tongue was hanging out and I was completely winded by he time I dragged myself in the front door. Of course, captive stroller boy was a bundle of energy once he got loose, and all mama wanted was a nap!

Monday, March 01, 2004

Sick Dog

The sick dog saga continues. She's still got diarrhea, badly. The vet told us to give her Pepto, but she hates the taste and fights it, so she's not getting the full dose, and what she is getting doesn't seem to be helping. She's spending alot of time outdoors...

Mikro put a couple of words together today for the very first time, whether intentional or not I can't say, but it made sense. He said Big Big, and then Big Baby!

My mom is coming to visit on Wednesday evening, if my dad doesn't manage to talk her out of it... She'll stay till Saturday.

Thursday will be hellish, because it is a very bad date for me, and I'm glad she'll be here to distract me.

Ugh. Shit-smelly dog is rubbing on my leg. Time to escape from this room (where we're confining her, since it has a tile floor that can be cleaned up easier than the hardwood in the rest of the house)....