March 2006 Archives

My time is limited since I had the baby. I haven't learned to multitask while I sit idle and he nurses. I don't know if I want to learn to do other things at the same time either. Feeding time is a special time when I sit and rock my baby and watch his sweet face. It is a time when I absorb and learn his every habit. I am learning to read his body language with presicion. This is something that makes Steven feel inadequate or should I say not as useful(?). I try and explain it is because I am with the baby 12 hours a day alone, I am the caretaker therefore I observe more. It doesn't mean he is any less to the welfare of our child. I still see the hurt flash across his face when I can sooth our baby and he can't. I am also flippant at times and say something like, "It's because I have boobs." Sometimes I am territorial, especially when he is fussy in a way that indicates something is wrong and nothing can be found that is wrong and his cries are so pitiful to my ears. And I will say, "I am the momma." And I relieve him of the baby and sooth him because I CAN NOT sit by while my baby cries. If he is going to cry he can cry in my arms, dammit. So as I said my time these days is limited. I don't get around to everyone in one day every day. It might take me two days to visit. This week it took me four days to visit every one. I had a crying fussy baby who seemed to have a tummy ache and needed to be held and rocked almost all day long. By the time I made it around the neighborhood I found I had missed far too much. Kim over at Glamourouse has had a realy bad week. Her home was burglerized. She has been dealing with the violation, loss, the emotional distress. In the midst of trying to wrap her head around it all and find some sanity she has written a beautiful piece about women, blogging, support, friends all over the world and friends close at home, trying to have it all, beating yourself up along the way and making an amazing discovery. I am always conscious of the wonderful women in this world I have been able to meet through this medium. I never want to take any of you for granted. I hope you all feel special and know that I do count you as friends. I am thankful for you, readers, commenters, and lurkers alike. I am amazed by the network of bright, educated women I encounter every single day. I don't know how to express what I feel for each you. Kim had no trouble and she expressed herself beautifully. This month I award the March Perfect Post award to Kim at Glamourouse for her post You Know. For more Perfect Posts visit MommaK@Petroville and Lucinda@SuburbanTurmoil.

Blackbird's Show and Tell this week is our favorite chocolate for Kim. Please go visit Kim and give her lots of love. She has had an absolute beotch of a week. And now chocolate, whch doesn't right every wrong, but makes dealing with shit a little easier. My favorite chocolate bar is not expensive. It is not gourmet. It is not even grown-up candy. It is a simple Mounds bar. Almond Joy's got nuts Mound's don't Because Sometimes you feel like a nut Sometimes you don't I do NOT like the almond joy. Just the Mounds. Thank you. Now I have had excellent chocolate. The best Belgian and Dutch chocolates to be found. Sinfully delicious. Chocolate truffles, chocolate liquers, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate, expensive sinful chocolate. If I were to become a chocolate snob most definitely it would be the decadent Dutch and Belgian chocolates I chose for myself from the chocolateer in Holland several years ago. I love dark bitter sweet chocolates. Milk chocolate, meh, not so much really. I love Godiva, Lindts, Cadbury (eggs) and others as well but for comfort and just because I want it, Mounds please. When I am craving chocolate and there is no candy bar in the house I slip off to the mudroom and open the freezer and search for a my secret stash of ... ... Tim Tams! Mmmmmm. The dark chocolates are my favorite and I only have one package left. I am hording it like a rabid dog because once it is open it will be gone quick! Can't have that. I am very happy knowing that if I want I can go to the freezer and have timtams with my coffee but for now I am just keeping them safe and protected by not opening them. I need tim tams and cadbury eggs ... omg I need to get my easter order in! I need a shipment from downunder ASAP! What have I been thinking of lately? I am now in a panic because I must needs have tim tams for Easter! You Aussies are pretty damn lucky to be able to walk into your local super market and just pile tim tams into your shopping cart. Although some flavors I would walk right by and never twitch. Yucko on the caramel. :-s When my friend sent me tea tree oil I should have remembered the timtams!! Alas I have been too comfortable with the stash in my freezer and let the importance of timtams and cadbury eggs to the Easter basket slip right by. It is a sad day indeed.

Judy over at Just Ask Judy has been posting her sheetmusic collection. She posted one of my most favorites, Let Me Call You Sweetheart, a few days ago. Many of these old tunes I sing to my babies in place of as lullabyes. Some bring water to my eyes, some leave me smiling and some I can't remember all the words and humm the tune while I rock my babies. I do not have a nice singing voice. I wish I did. If there was ever a talent I wanted it was singing. My singing is so bad that Gracie would cry as an infant when I sang to her. As a toddler she would put her hand over my mouth and hush the words, "You no sing, Momma," she would say. When Colby was little we sang together and often loudly. As a baby she hated riding in her carseat and would cry and scream. As she grew older and could sit in a forward facing carseat nothing much changed except the screaming was quieted but the struggle to keep her in the car seat was monumental. I would sing and ask her to help me sing and remember the words to keep her occupied until I got to where we were going. BTW, Colby still finds it very funny when she remembers how Gracie would cry when I sang. The Hell?!? Kids aren't supposed to remember those things! I did not give permission! With this baby boy I don't know if he likes my singing. When I sing and humm he gets very still and wants to nurse. Either the singing is comforting or he is trying to escape in any way possible and sleep is easier than learning to get up and run away. For whatever reason the tunes come and go. Some long forgotten until a memory sets it off. That is exactly what happened the other day. Susie over at the Underpaid Kept Woman headquarters posted her interview with Bill Thomas, the writer of music for the Captain Kangeroo show. She noted a discussion with Mr. Thomas of runcible spoons (a pickle fork really) which made me think of The Owl and the Pussycat ... more specifically the first line:

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat ...

This line gave me just enough of a nudge that an old lullabye came to mind. I do not know where I first heard it. I have sung it for so many years now it was like an old friend suddenly decided to come to visit. If I had a beautiful singing voice I would do an audioblog so that you could hear the tune but I don't and I didn't and you can't. The Slumber Boat was written by Alice C. D. Riley and the music is by Jessie L. Gaynor. The copyright date is 1898.

The Slumber Boat

Baby's boat's the silver moon, Sailing in the sky, Sailing o'er the sea of sleep, While the clouds float by. Sail, baby, sail, Out upon that sea, Only don't forget to sail Back again to me.
Baby's fishing for a dream, Fishing near and far, His line a silver moonbeam is, His bait a silver star. Sail, baby, sail, Out upon that sea, Only don't forget to sail Back again to me.

I do love this tune. I sang it to my baby boy all day yesterday as he was having a bad day and finally he settled down and slept for a couple hours after we rocked and sang in the late afternoon. Did I ever tell you that lullabyes make me cry? They do. No reason that I know of. Just emotion spills out all over the place int he form of tears slipping down my cheeks. I am tearing up just thinking of it. I purchased the Jack Johnson cd, the Curious George Soundtrack, for Steven. I love his laid back voice. On a side note that has absolutely nothing to do with this post have any of you noticed that Jack Johnson looks like the little curious monkey named George? He does! If you go to his site, click films, bonus material and watch the Upside Down video. Love it! But these don't make me cry. Sing me a lullabye, leaving the words in the comments - won't you please? Perhaps one you sang to your babies or one you remember from your own childhood. I am in the mood for lullabyes. Updated to add: I found a website with the midi so you can get an idea of the tune to sing The Slumber Boat to your babies. The midi has a 1998 copyright. The song itself is public domain (as is most sheet music before 1923).

If you are feeling crafty and need to invest in sewing supplies or materials used for cutting might I turn your attention to the Home Shopping Network ... (hand flourish like one of Barker's Beauties on The Price Is Right) This group of items is labled as a quilting kit but it is used for much more than quilting. The rolling blade cutter is fantastic and the mats are self healing. The mat alone retails for nearly $25 and the cutter averages around $15. The collective price of $16.95 is a super bargain. Add $4.95 shipping and $21.90 total is a deal and a steal. You will kick yourself later if you let this slip past you. ******* Check out Useless Men. These guys are funny. ******* And here is something to look at ... (another flourishing hand) Saturday Afternoon Sunday Midday

In this online sphere of the written word I hop and skip across the world checking in with women and a few men and their interpretation of their day to day lives. I bounce from the east coast to the west and back. I pop in and out of Europe. I sail down to Australia. Eventually I wend my way back to the states and to my own humble online home. I love looking at photos of their kids, their homes, the place they go. I like discovering the similarities and differences in lifestyles. I like the straight forwardness of some, the humor of others and the blatant honesty of them all. I don't link to all the journals that I read. There is a reason why I don't. I like to take my time and get to know the writer. I weigh how they interpret politics, religion, parenting, daily home life, hobbies, etc. I spend time trying to hear their voice. I try to hear the tone and inflection of their words so that I don't misjudge the person or misinterpret what and how they speak. My reading links reflect alot about me moreso than it does the linkee. I don't give reciprical links just for the sake of having been or getting linked to. I don't link to journals that are outrageously different to my way of thinking. I don't link to journals that in any way offend me. There are so many journals I would like to link to. But I can't. There are so many bright, educated, well written women out there but they ruin it with their blatant disrespect for their kids and/or spouse in an effort to be humorous. There is no humor in disrespect in my book. More often than not it is the one reason I click the little red X and never go back. It is fair to say that I remove people from my list for the same reason. (For the record my current reading links are not up to date as I am working on a new template and will be doing away with that page soon.) After a few weeks/months of reading I begin to develope a sense of knowing about the writer. I lurke in the shadows trying to decide if this is a person I would invite into my house. Is this someone I want to be my neighbor and share gossip over the back fence, a cup of sugar every now and then or to see me in my housecoat when I dash out across the yard early in the morning hoping that no one sees me? If the answer is yes, I begin to leave comments. Some journals have comments closed and I am either too lazy to send email or I presume comments are not welcome and I don't bother. Sometimes I am just in awe and I never comment. Ever. That has been the case when it came to Jen over at Jennsylvania. Besides my own reasoning for not commenting she has written on more than one occassion that she is lazy about answering email and whatnot so I didn't want to be in the numbers of unanswered mail sitting in her box like some lame-o fan. I was thrilled to read of her book deal and have waited and waited to purchase a copy. I did not rush right out and buy a copy the minute it hit the stands. I rarely pay full retail and I am not embarrassed to say I was waiting to pick up a second hand copy. (Sorry, Jen, if you ever read this.) Nothing thrills me more to see the writers I love the most make it in the publishing world. In the past I have been suckered by all of the hype and bought a book and was highly disappointed. I have recieved a free book club selection and been thankful that I didn't waste my money on it. I was delighted when Susie gifted me with a copy of Jen's book. When I read it and enjoyed it so very much I felt guilty at having gotten such pleasure from it when I was so unwilling to pay the retail price for it. I am on the verge of gushing over her book. I want to tell you all the places I laughed the hardest. I want to share with you the pages I read out loud to Steven while he looked at me and the chick humor caused his eyes to roll back in his head. I want to tell you how badly in the beginning I wanted to smack her upside the head for her smart mouth and bitchitude. Then I want to tell you how I wanted to be her friend and drop by her house or go out for a drink or send her little gifts in the mail just to make her smile. When I finished reading my copy I was thinking how much this book would be enjoyed sitting out by the pool on a long summer afternoon. If you haven't already pick up a copy, pour yourself a pink girly cocktail, sit back and enjoy. But instead of acting all willy nilly like a deranged fan I am opening the first edition of Home Grown magazine today. The feature this month is the review of Bitter Is The New Black, a soon to be best selling new book by Jen Lancaster. A Pink Collar in the World of White Collar Finance

Jen Lancaster made a pink collar splash in the white collar world that was the dot com industry. The girl from small town Indiana climbed the corporate ladder to a six figure income and a Chicago penthouse. Pearls clutched in a tightly fisted well-manicured hand, she fell from her lofty perch at the top of the world and missed few rungs on the ladder on her way back down. From the penthouse to the poor house, from bottled wine to wine in a box, from riches to rags, the self-proclaimed modern Greek tragedy Bitter Is the New Black reads more like romantic comedy. The spotlight is cast not only on the loss of a lucrative career but the brutal honesty of a wedding in the midst of a porn convention, the night spent with a missing groom, and the gusto of an overweight chick who would not be made to feel less than beautiful, smart and sexy. With wit, cynicism and razor sharp snarky humor this is the reality of a plus-sized Cinderella, her depressed Prince Charming, more than a few pair of designer glass slippers and the beauty’s beasts known to the rest of the world as Maisy and Lokie. Jen serves up her sensational new book much like a steak dinner with all the trimmings. In the end not only will the reader love her but will be wondering what’s for dessert.

Compared to other reviews, like this one in the Washington Post, you would not think we read the same book. Look deeper. There is indeed a love story under all the snarky sorority style writing. If you ask me, the story every one seems to latch on to is superficial compared to the story that takes place in the shadows of high-end living, unemployment and designer diva blues.

A little pickup slip was in the mailbox yesterday but the post office had already closed. This morning Colby went over and pickedup what I thought was an envelope/package. It turns out it was a box. Not just any old box mind you. But a box from cooking.com .... And not just a plain ordinary box filled with cooking.com stuff but one that was really from Susie Sunshine -all the way from the frozen tundra that is Michigan. With much delight the box was opened. And there inside were many wonderous things for a boy and his momma. A big red tractor for a boy to play outside or inside with. Also a note apologizing for the redness instead of greeniness of the tractor. A fleece bunting bag by Natural Charm that is beary cute. (Pardon the baby talk. I couldn't resist.) A tree shaped plush photo frame that is a family tree complete with pockets to insert family photos. (I have no idea why the photo is so dark. On every shot the flash failed.) A John Deere book titled Corny Cornpicker finds a home with appropriate inscription from said giver. A chicken cookbook. This chick pays very close attn people. I don't remember telling her I collect chicken stuff. A gardeners journal to write down all my gardenish things in. A copy of Jen Lancaster's new book Bitter Is The New Black. Complete with inscription. I dearly thank you, SusieQ, for all of these beautiful gifts. The thought is lovely. I can't thank you enough. I also must thank you for making me the coolest mom of college age girls in this area. As I opened each item in the box, Colby ahhh'd over each thing and we held them up for Steve to see. As I opened the last item which happened to be the Bitter book -

Colby: Is that Jen Lancaster's new book? Me: Yes, it is. What do you know about Jen Lancaster? Colby: Everyone is reading her book and blog. Have you read her blog? Me: I have been reading her blog before you knew what a blog was. Colby: OMG, that is an autographed copy! Me: I know it is. Susie knows her well and went to her first book signing. Colby: I cannot believe you have an autographed copy. OMG it is personalized! Me: heh ...

I am so f'n cool now. Thanks, Jen! I'll stop lurking and try to send you email comments that you wn't read or answer because you don't have time for trivial email from the likes of lurkers on your blog. If you get a chance how about come over and leave a comment so I can be like UBER cool with the 18 - 20 year old set. Please? I do give you linky love, ya know ... Thanks, Susie! You give the bestest gifts. I'll be sure to do something for you so your boys realize they have the coolest mom in the universe too. The book comment is in no way intended to overshadow the sincere joy of having such a wonderful friend that I have never yet met face to face as you are, Susie. I just thought you would get a good laugh out of the reaction of my eldest daughter. I am now going to spend as much of the rest of the day as possible reading the book sent my really sweet friend, Susie. :-)

... in a kingdom in Central Virginia lived a little prince who was just six weeks old. I see you looking at me. He was a very alert and active little boy for his age. His eyes where bright and shiney. He often smiled at the Queen and caused her heart to melt. The blue elephant is my favorite. The little prince was so active the Queen decided he needed something to attract his attentive and to focus his pent up engery on. His little brain needed more stimulation. Oh, look! There is another baby at the zoo today! Those little hands that reached out so very often needed something to reach toward besides the Queen's long hair or the vessel on her chest upon which the prince's nurishment came from. His clutching and grabbing, no matter how short his nails, was leaving claw marks on the Queen's pale skin.

Have you got any snacks to share? I need a cookie or something. These people only feed me milk. A growing boy needs cookies and doritoes and chocolate bars. Come on, I won't tell if you slip me a little something extra.

The Queen was always nearby when the little prince was entertaining himself. She would watch him with the most genuine look of love on her face that the King would often comment that she looked as if she was in heaven. The King would say at that moment there was nothing on earth that could please the Queen more than her precious little prince.

Eeek! She is making photos of me again. Someone stop the madness before I go blind from the camera flash.

The Queen found her little boy so adorable she often felt an overwelming urge to consume him. She often had to restrain herself from unhitching her jaw and swallowing him whole so she could keep his perfection all for herself. Oh, look, there's that blue elephant again! The little prince often played by himself for up to thirty minutes at a time.

Being this cute is hard work. It is wearing my butt out big time.

All of that playing would make him very sleepy. He would give big yawns telling the Queen he was tired of those animals hanging in his face.

If I pretend like I am sleeping she willstop taking pictures of me.

The Queen ever alert to the needs of the little prince would wisk away his hanging zoo.

I think I'll hop on that cloud over there and see what's on the other side of that mountain. I'm outta here, folks...

She left him drenched in the morning sun to dream of sunny days chasing puppies, catching frogs, and pretend safaris with blue elephants and yellow giraffes. The morning naps also gave the Queen free time away from breastfeeding and diaper changing. She used her time wisely and managed to finish writing thank you notes, birth announcements and seasonal greeting cards -which should start showing up in a mail box near you starting today or maybe tomorrow. ****** Gracie is home from school again today. We have spent the night and morning washing sheets and rugs. This virus that is going around is nasty! This is our second time of it!!

I had my 6 week OB check this morning. When I called to double check my appointment the nurse told me I would be seeing Dr. W because my doctor, Dr. H., was out on leave. I accepted this begrudgingly and kept the appointment for this morning. Upon arrival and a little conversation I found out that Dr. H. has decided to leave the practice all together. WTH? He was new when I changed my doctor midstream in my pregnancy. Dr. W. said he moved out of the area. Whatever. My only problem with Dr. W is that he is far too handsome to be an OBGYN. I mean, really, I prefer old or unattractive OBGYN's. And god forbid a woman OBGYN. I mean, for those of you who use one, more power to you, for me, it is too much like lesbianism. Sorry, not meaning to alienate any lesbians out there, but it is just not my cup o' tea. My god I derailed that line of thought and what a lovely crash it is ... Anywho ... I went to the doctor this morning. Any one wondering about my previous post questioning the loss of my mojo, let me clarify that mojo is not groove. My groove thang checked out perfectly well and as of today I have medical permission to get my groove back on. For those who might be too young to understand that little flash back to Peaches and Herb, my sex drive is perfectly fine and well and has been idling in park since the birth of my son. It never left me nor ran out of gas. It was actually pretty high octaine there in the end. .. ahem... So, I go to the doctor's and they do all those things we hate when we go to the doctor's. But the worst part where they put you through hell and make you stand on that little metal plate connected to the thing with numbers that tell you the relative mass of body in terms of pounds ... ... well ... I lost 25 lbs since I came home from the hospital!!! I am in no way skinny but that is a damn good start!!! Yayyy me!!! That is all I have to say except ... I only gained 3 1/2 pounds (I think that is what we calculated) when I was pregnant and the baby weighed 9lbs 11oz. heh :-) ... I was 1 size smaller when I delivered than when I got pregnant to start with ... Today I am 2 sizes smaller ... Got it? 2. Sizes. Smaller. 25! Pounds! You can be jealous now. I got a baby and lost 25lbs. :-)







I heard the word 'bitch' that you all just exhaled.

I know I have alluded to 'my book' on several occassions. I have not come clean on the subject completely before now. It feels like bragging. And I am not a braggart. Almost a decade (! 1998) ago I spent a few years researching and compiling the local history and genealogy of nearly 1500 men who formed 10 companies in the Army of Northern Virginia serving during the War Between the States. It was a labor of love. I grew to know many of them in such a personal way by being given access to private correspondance and family papers. In the end I felt like they were my kin, my family, my boys. What came out in the end was a book. Two copies are in the repository of the Library of Congress. Other than my children, nothing gives me more pride, causes the hairs to stand up on my arms than to walk into the Library of Congress and request to see this book. If the above link doesn't carry you to the online catalog for my book, search by author "Cobb, Angela W." or by title "Roster of the Confederate Soldiers of Burke County, Georgia 1861 - 1865". CALL NUMBER: F292.B95 C63 1998 It is now out of print. The last remaining copies are in my possession. (It was published when I was still in my first marriage and bears that name. Since then I have remarried, changed my last name, so I am not giving away too much personal info here, as Steven doesn't want to broadcast our last name.) I have always wanted to be a writer. In my opinion this book does not make me a writer. It makes me a researcher, a historian, a preserver of antiquity. Although I have been published, my work is in the Library of Congress, I have no idea what it takes or how to go about attracting an agent or a publisher. I also have all of this stuff in my head that wants to be written but when I sit to right it disappears. In the last year I have lost my ability to be sassy, sexy, coy, vulgar (in a good way if you can understand that) and funny in the written word. There once was a time when only Hope was wittier and quicker with a sharp retort. I don't know where I lost that part of me but knowing I have lost it makes me feel old. I don't know if that is my mojo I lost but I want it back.

Blackbird's Show and Tell is butterdishes. My butterdish is actually a crock. More specifically it is a butterbell. It is about 4 inches tall and holds 1 stick of butter. I found this crock in an old shop after I moved from Georgia to Virginia. It is used every single day because one of our favorite food items on the table at every meal is bread and butter. Not margerine. Butter. There is more than appearance to this little crock. It is also more than just a dish in the refrigerator to store butter. This crock has its beginnings in the days when there was no refrigeration. This piece of earthenware allows butter to be stored at room temperature on the counter for about a month without spoiling or need for refrigerating. How can this be? Surely as butter is a dairy product it will spoil without being stored in a cold place. The secret is in the seal. How it works is by using water to make an air tight seal. The butter remains fresh, creamy and most importantly, spreadable. My butterbell is old. It is chipped. It is cracked. This does not take away from it. I think it adds charm. If something should happen to this dish I will replace it. If I can't find an old farmhouse crock I will buy a new one. I like it that much. BTW, I paid $1 for it. ******* Yesterday I had a lovely surprise when I stepped out my back door. The UPS guy and the mail carrier had delivered packages to my door. One was the baby's birth announcements and the other was a tidy brown box with "fra-gee-lay" stickers on it. The box had no card. It also had no return address lable on it that I could find. But I had a heads up and knew who it was from. In the box was this lovely bedtime prayer for children in a distressed frame in green very similar to the color I painted the babies room. How lovely, I thought. Mary had emailed me that she sent a gift and forgot to put the card in and so mailed it separately. I was thinking Mary was so very thoughtful to remember the color of the nursery and to send something that coordinated. And I loved the distressed look of the frame. I was planning to email her and ask if the frame was handmade as a craft project. As I stood at the table and opened the rest of the mail, I came across a card that was from Mary. It and the box arrived by different means but at the same time. As I read the card the story of the framed prayer was revealed, making it all the more special. I didn't ask Mary if she minded that I post the card (I hope she doesn't) but I think the thought and the sentiments contained are lovely and loving. In my babies nursery is a piece of Mary, her girls and her mother. How can a baby not be anything but happy in a room surrounded with items that were heartfelt and sent with kindness and goodness from beautiful hearts? He. Can't. Thank you, Mary. I do love the gift. It also reminds me of my childhood. This prayer, or one very similar, a variation, is the first prayer I learned aside from saying the blessing at our table. I said it every single night of my childhood and just before I sleep now, even though I say my grownup prayers, I still say my childhood prayer as well. Now I lay me down to sleep I prayer the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen. Those words are very important to me. I have taught them to my children and will teach them to my baby boy. Life doesn't get much better than the one I am living right this very minute.

Yesterday was one of those days when you want to stop in the middle of the whirlwind and call "do overs". It seemed at one point the more I hurried the further behind I got. Themorning started with Gracie and the bus stop. She went out to the bus with Colby and came hurrying back within a few minutes. A strange dog was in the yard. The dog wasjust scruffy enough to be threatening but soon wandered its way to the back of the property. So Gracie hurried on out and barely made it to get on the school bus. Colby went upstairs to get ready for her school day and had let the dog out into the fenced area of the backyard. It wasn't long before I heard a rukus and went out to check. The stray wandering dog had gotten in the fence by digging his way in and was now threatening our dog on her own turf. I called animal control to report the dog and was cut off short by the deputy who answered saying, "Yes, we know. It is a brindle colored bulldog. We are trying to find it now." Then I cut her off by saying, "If you will listen and let me finish I'll tell you the dog is in my fenced in backyard at the moment and can be picked up easily." By this time the dog was in the trash cans andpulling out the trash. I put out some food but it kept going back to the trash. One attempt to shoo the dog from the trash and he bristled up and lunged at me. By the time the animal control officer got to my house the dog had gotten out the same we he got in and was long gone. So, having known where the dog was they took their own sweet time to protect the neighborhood by arriving 2 hours after the report went in. So now the dog is still wandering the neighborhood. Next we went to the doctor appointment for Steven's vaccinations. His appointment was at 11:20. At 12:10 we were still waiting to be seen. I asked the receptionist how much longer was the wait to be and that I could reschedule the appointment if need be. It was about 10 minutes later that we were called back to an examination room. The nurse and doctor apologized for the wait and explained that a preemie baby had come in and had stopped breathing and they had had their hands full. Then I felt badly about complaining about waiting so long. The doctor is very impressed with is growth. She said he is off the percentile chart and she wished every baby she saw was as healthy as he is. He has grown and inch and gained one and a half pounds in the past 2 weeks! He is now 23 1/2 inches long and weighs 12lbs 11oz. She was equally impressed that he was only breastfeeding. It has been 5 weeks since his birth. He has gained a total of 3lbs and grown an inch and a half. He smiled and made noises during his exam. He was sweet and adorable and the doctor always has a fit over him. She was surprised that he had already managed to roll himself over onto his stomach (at 3 weeks people!) and could roll from side to side now. Then he got stuck with a needle and he doesn't like any of them any more. It was after 1pm when we left the doctor's office. I called Steven to give him the latest stats on our boy but he didn't give me time to speak before he was rushing through his phone call from the school telling him Gracie was sick, running a fever and needed to be picked up. He was about 2 hours away and had not been able to reach me (my cell doesn't pick up in the dr's office complex) and had called over to our 73 year old neighbor and had her pick Gracie up for us. Steven, 5 weeks old The neighbor had had surgury on her foot Friday, unknown to us (!), but went with her husband and picked Gracie up. She took Gracie to her house, put her to bed and doted on her like any grandmother would. By the time I got everyone picked up and taken home it was almost 3pm. We were all hungry, fussy and tired. We all decided it was time for a short nap and took to our beds. We slept until nearly 6pm. I don't know when the last time was that I slept like that! And how was your day?

I had a bit of a meltdown last week. I was upset, crying and could not be consoled in any way, shape or form. You see, I was all set to tell you all about my Native American heritage while showing you some photos of my babies as newborns so that you can see that they do indeed favor me. However, as I looked for my photos from Colby's birth I became agitated. They were not to be found. Anywhere. I have come to the heartwrenching conclusion that when my Ex took some things from my house shortly after or during our divorce he managed to get those along with some papers, my engagement ring and some other small things I had saved and put away for my girls. What would seem bleak, the loss of the only birth photos of my child born almost 19 years ago, is not so bleak. I called my mother crying and upset. Like most mommas do she managed to calm me down and sooth my hurt. My mother has copies of all my photos and then some. All is not lost. She is sending me negatives and photos, the world has been set to rights and life is again good. In the aftermath this set me to another minor crisis. I began to obsess about the VHS tape I have of Colby as an infant. A tape that will date in just about 2 months as 19 years old. 19 years old! How long do VHS tapes and images last before they begin to breakdown, the images fade or the integrity of the tape itself falter and break? Exactly! I don't know either!! So I got all upset (again!) and began a misson Friday morning to hunt out and claim for myself the technology to preserve the only tape in existance of my child as an infant almost 19 years ago. Now you might suggest that I send this tape off or take it to a studio and have it copied. You might, and that would be good. But, knowing the only images of your first born is on that tape (and it is the only tape!) would you hand it off to strangers without being worried sick over something happening to it out of your control and all being lost for eternity? I thought not, too. After much research, talking to sales people, hunting down the product, I made this purchase. The set up was simple (almost too simple). In a matter of a few minutes, connecting an rca cable, and pressing a button, the only VHS tape of infant Colby was transferred to DVD. All VHS tapes will now be copied over to DVD. Everything will be archived, a copy placed in the safe deposit box and I will rest and get over this obsessive behavior. In other news, I am off to the pediatrician this morning. It is time for the baby to have his vaccination. Ugh! I hate the neccesary evil of immunizations. I am prepared with infant tylenol drops and hoping he won't have a rough time with it. Colby and Gracie would run a fever and be cranky for a couple days after their shots and I do dread that whiney fussiness and hope it doesn't inflict itself upon him. Meanwhile you get the anticipation of seeing him in his little sailor suit later. When he is bathed and dressed and ready to go I plan to photograph him in his going-to-the-doctor-dudds because this little man is far too cute not too. Do I sound like a doting mother? Because. I. Am.

Blackbird's Show and Tell this week is to see our eyes. I wear glasses but they cause a glare in the photos. My eyes are dark, almost black. My mood either darkens or lightens them. Anger makes them the darkest and closest to black. I have contacts but I don't wear them often. I have grown comfortable in my glasses. I like glasses. Sometimes I hide behind the glasses. BTW, you can't look into the windows and see my soul unless I want you too. *******Updated to add - I have no idea where the weekend and the first few days of this week went. I woke up yesterday and realized it was Wednesday and I hadn't visited any of you. I had barely managed to turn on my machine. Have I mentioned I can't type and breastfeed? I can't. It is the one multitasking thing I can't seem to do. I am breastfeeding alot. Did I say alot? I meant MUCH. All the time. Or so it seems. If I am not breastfeeding I am changing diapers as a result of the MUCH breastfeeding. And the diaper changing? It is MUCH also. Oh, and I am not complaining just explaining my whereabouts. I am in love with this baby. It is MUCH too.

The night Steven was born the girls were brought to the hospital. Colby was a bundle of tears. She would look at our sweet baby boy and just burst into tears. She would weepingly look at me and say, "Oh, Momma, he is so perfect." Her eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks were flushed. She was so overwelmed with the instant rush of love for this baby she couldn't contain it no matter how hard she tried. Gracie has become much more comfortable with the baby over the past month. She thinks she is big enough to do for him as well as I can. (With the exception of nursing or if he starts fussing then she is ready to pass him off to the closest set of hands.) I have had to instruct her eight year old self that she is NOT to pick him up on her own. She doesn't quite get it that she could hurt him or that she could easily drop him. She never fails in passing to stop and tell him she loves him or to kiss the top of his head. Her arms are always ready to hold and cuddle him. She nuzzles him and kisses him and says,"Oh, you are just a precious little thing. Yes, you are." In her higher pitched sweet baby talking voice. His natural schedule has been to nurse inbetween the time Gracie has to get up for school and just before she has to go out to the school bus. In those few minutes before she leaves she comes to where I am with him and her arms are ready to hold him. She tells him good morning and kisses him a million plus one times because, "I can't kiss him while I am at school and I have to stock up enough to last until I come home." Watching my baby girls interact with my baby boy is enough to make a hot knot of tears lodge in my throat. I swallow and swallow and more often than not the lump doesn't go down. I walk away so they don't see me crying. The hormone level is still extremely high and the emotions rest just under the surface. But thatis not the only reason. It's just me. I cry at the drop of a hat in certain situations. I can't even begin to put into words the deep fount of love that wells up in me. I love all my children the same, yet in some ways I love them differently. I love them all feircely. Mess with my kids and you have suddenly issued yourself a death wish. That is not a threat. It is a promise. I know this passionate form of emotion is part of human nature. There is an instinctive reaction in most of us to protect our children, to even die for them. I know it is part learned behavior. We as parents are responsible for teaching our children how to be mothers and fathers to their own children but more importantly we teach them how to be mommas and daddys to their children. I watch my girls with my baby boy. I see the women they will become. I see the mothers they will become. More importantly I see the Momma's they will be. It makes my heart swell up and tears stain my cheeks. The children born to my girls will be surely blessed -as I have been. Today my baby is one month old. I have no idea where the time has gone. He is growing. And so are we. Steven, 1 month old, 7 March 2006

A few years ago this would have been a really hot fantasy. However !!!!! knowing he sleeps with Calista just makes me want to puke.

You can find your perfect date too.

Judy at Just Ask Judy said we should be posting something new to look at instead of leaving up an old post for 3 or 4 days so I am following good online journalist manners and giving something new to look at.



******* I need to clear up a little something from the previous post on shoes. I said I LOVE shoes. What I didn't say is I don't always wear shoes. If I am at home my feet are bare. I hate to wear shoes especially in the summer. Most of the year you will find me barefooted. Loving shoes doesn't mean wearing shoes. Oh, and I wear a size 10 not an 8.

Blackbird's Show and Tell is brought to you today by Badger who wants to see our calendar. I use the calendar in MS Works. While I have many lovely calendars printed with wonderful photos and art and vintage ads I don't write in them. I HATE messing them up. I just want to look at them, pristine and without ink. You can see my calendar here. Badger, I hope you are well!! ******* I love shoes. Pretty shoes. Shoes with an open toe and a lovely heel. Shoes with a closed toe and a lovely heel. Shoes in general with a lovely heel. The total look of the shoe is all in the heel for me. The look of the heel can make or break my love of a shoe. I prefer a medium or low heel shoe these days but in my youth the higher the better. (A high heel makes my calves look nice and my legs look longer than they are but age has its restrictions and my back and my feet can't take all of me thrown up onto my tiptoes.) This is not to say that I don't love flats because I do! I love flats alot! I wear them all the time, daily even! I have my own private love affair with flats because flats are a pregnant woman's best friend and we know I just spend the last 9 months being a pregnant lady! My favorite heel on a shoe is a sassy kitten heel. It is the perfect medium heel with a bit of a curve, not too low, not too high, and still makes the leg look nice and long. It is a heel comfortable to walk in (if you buy the correct size and do not try and squeeze your size 8 wide foot into a size 6 narrow shoe.) There are other shoes and heels that I love as much. At the same time I am not a fan of closed toe lace up shoes. As much as I love the sexy look of a long sleek dress boot I just can't force myself into a pair. As much as I love shoes I am very much like MommaK in that I prefer summer shoes, sandles, mules, flipflops, slides, open toes and let your feet breath whisps of a shoe that my husband refers to as 'whimsical shoes' no matter the weather or the season. Let me just make a little note here to say: If you wear open toe shoes or completely toeless sandles you owe it not only to yourself but the entire human population to have a nice pedicure. No one cares to see crusty, callused, chipped polished, discolored or fungus ridden toe nails on unkempt feet! Choose your pedicurist with caution. Some of these nail places can really mess up your nails and cause damage that leaves an unsightly toe that must be covered up or polished to hide the flaw for several months! I blame my love of more summery type shoes on having grownup in a temperate climate in Georgia where it wasn't necessary to wear a complete closed shoe more than 2 or 3 months out of the year. Even then that time was puntuated with days of warmth that screamed for the lovely summery shoes to be worn. So, the other day I was over at Zappos browsing for something new. I found a shoe that I love and hate at the same time. I LOVE the heel on this particular Fluevog shoe but I HATE the upper portion of the shoe. It is hideous! What in the hell is John Fluevog thinking when he could produce such a beautifully stylish shoe with the minstrel heel in the flavor of the 1930's and 40's open toe or even a modern mule style for the upcoming spring season? There is one saving grace and there is a very slim chance in hell I will ever get the shoe I want with that heel but I am willing to try because ... because John Fluevog accepts shoe concepts from his fans and even offers a way of letting you submit them right from the website. I am going to pull out my kids crayons and colored pencils and try my hand at drawing the shoe of my dreams with his heel and I won't hold my breath but I will ask you to say a little prayer that one day I might get the shoe I want with the heel I want. You all are going to help me? Yes? Yes. O'Kay. Ready. Set. Go ... (Pssst... Start praying now. Please.) Oh and the fellowship heel as well as the choice heel is pretty damn kick ass too... Show me a shoe (and handbag) you are coveting.