Baaoon Mama... Baaoon!

99 dreams I have had
In every one a red balloon
It's all over and I'm standin' pretty
In this dust that was a city
If I could find a souvenir
Just to prove the world was here
And here is a red balloon
I think of you and let it go
-- 99 Red Balloons Nena

Whenever I hear this song I think back to my youth, and get a sense of freedom and joy, an overwhelming desire to spin.

That desire popped, much like a balloon, as soon as I learned that we are depleting our helium reserves in the U.S., and the helium balloon, that amazing anti-gravity children's toy, may not be around for my grandkids. Imagine not seeing the wonder in a baby's face as he tries to figure out why this thing goes up... instead of down.

Helium is non-renewable and irreplaceable. There are pockets of the gas in Colorado, Kansas and Oklahoma and Russia has large pockets of natural gas, helium included, but there has not been a push to extract it. Further, a great deal of Helium is lost in the process of separating it from oil and natural gas. As the oil and gas are brought out of the ground, the Helium comes with them, but it is not captured as it releases, so it drifts up into the atmosphere and ... away. The world's largest pocket of Helium is located in the Texas Panhandle, and at our current rate of use, that reserve will be depleted by 2015.

In personal terms, this means Monkey will probably not have a balloon arch at her prom, and Otter may not be choosing a balloon from a vendor at a carnival by the time he is eight.

Helium can be produced directly in nuclear fusion reactors, and is an indirect side effect of fisson reactors, but the amount created by both these sources don't begin to reach our current use. Basically, it has taken billions of years for the Earth to create our Helium stores, so it's not really a build on demand kind of resource.

Helium can be recycled, and the larger industries users, such as NASA, do recycle it. However, any Helium released into the atmosphere is lost to the Earth forever, and there are no small users currently recycling the gas. To learn more, read up on the issue.

If we are not careful with our Helium, we will be waving goodbye to a childhood tradition, in addition to a scientific resource. This is such a amazing substance, with nothing else like it on earth. It is our connection to the unbelievable, the fantastic, the magical. Let's do our best to keep it around.

"Bbvvoomm... Ma ma na... Baavmmm"

It's hard to be small...

Otter and I joined Monkey and a few of her friends at the playground after school yesterday. We usually stop and play for a few minutes after we pick Monkey up, when the weather is warm and inviting. Otter likes to sit in his stroller and watch the big kids run around, climb, and slide.

Yesterday, about fifteen minutes into the experience, it occurred to Otter that he can walk now, so really there is no reason for him to stay in the stroller watching the big kids, he can play with them. So he petitioned for his freedom, and was granted early release for good behavior.

Off like a rocket he went! (If a rocket is small, toddling, and unsteady in it's gait.) He toddled straight toward his sister on the climbing bars smiling all the way. As soon as he got to her, he grabbed a hold of the lowest rung, and lifted his little baby leg up, and up, and up.

That's when he noticed that the highest he could bring his chubby baby foot was still well below the first rung. He tried again, and again, and again. Then he turned his little baby face to me and trumpeted his little "help me mama" bleat.

"Sorry honey, you are too small to climb on that." I said. I grasped his hand and walked him over to the stairs, as he loves to practice going up and down the stairs. He was happily toddling away again, up and down, up and down, when he caught sight of Monkey heading down the huge red slide. Oh the laughter in her shrieks! How much fun it looks!! In seconds he was off, running full baby speed for the slide, a full size, extra long, way too big for him slide.
I stopped him a few feet from the entrance.

"Sorry honey, you are too small to ride on that, let's go play something else." Oh the screams!! You could hear him argue "I am not too small! I can walk to it can't I! Lemme on Mama!!"

It was definitely time to go. I rounded up the big kids and we all walked home for apple slices, cheese, and Goldfish. I consoled Otter on the way, as he fought with being back in his stroller, with being unable to do all these big kids things, and with being too small.

Poor Otter, so certain he could do what they did, so happy to think he was free and able to go roam the playground just like his sister. Here he is, finally able to walk and run around, finally able to get where he wants to go without Mama, and yet, still too little to do anything once he gets there.

It's hard to be small.

The big baby...

Otter is one. Just one, he hasn't even hit thirteen months yet. Despite his youth, he is big, huge really. His last stats were:

Weight 30 pounds 6 ounces
Height 31 1/2 inches
What does this size mean beyond increased muscle gain in my arms? (All right, my arm, I am really bad at alternating, so I end up with a muscular right arm, and a measly left.)

It means I have a one year old, who sometimes acts like a two year old. He reaches up and opens all the doors and he can hold my hand when walking without me stooping to reach him. He pulls furniture down on himself, and can reach onto all the surfaces in my home, except the kitchen island. Last night for dinner he ate a serving of meatloaf, as in, the same size serving I ate. Then he nursed for an hour. He is a big boy, destined to be a linebacker, or wrestler, or an interior decorator (What? He will be able to better reach the draperies for improved artistic arrangement). He can also get himself down off of the bed and couch, without hurting himself.

Don't believe me? Luckily for you this whole diatribe is a thinly veiled excuse to show you more baby cuteness... so here it is:

Note how he is taller than the tall kitchen garbage can in our bedroom.

Thank you for sharing in my Otter's accomplishments with me. I am going to start strength training to deal with his increased weight, but I don't think I will be needing much of an exercise plan after he gets through with me.

Something a little stronger?

I don't think coffee is going to get me through the day. I need something a little stronger, like tequila, with a lime, and large grain kosher salt, or maybe Speed.

Otter was awake playing "crawl thru diner" most of the morning. (By morning I mean the hours after midnight.) Now, of course, he is wired for sound, taking things apart, running through the house, sucking on butcher knives and sticking his fingers into light sockets.

Me? I am barely conscious as I drink my first cup of coffee in what promises to be a very, very long day.

Why can't he be, oh I don't know, TIRED on the days when neither of us get any sleep? It's not as though I was out all night clubbing while he slept away in dream land. No, I was in bed, cursing the day I decided to pop a tit in his hungry hungry hippo mouth! I was desperately trying to sleep while he twisted my skin between his fingers, kicked me in the stomach, groin, and thighs, and nursed all night long.

Is he tired? No! Otter wants to pull all the magnets off my office filing cabinet, so he can suck the magnetized metal bits out of the large plastic covers and choke on them before he determinedly eats the papers they were pinning to the cabinet. He wants to dig through my drawers and spread printer paper all over the floor! He wants to open the front door and wander out into the street!

Otter wants to climb the stairs, up and down, up and down, holding tightly to my fingers with his chubby baby hands. On a quasi rested well adjusted day I would console myself with thoughts like "at least I am getting my exercise today" or "Who needs a stair stepper when you have a one year old?", but today the only thought in my mind seems to be "are you frackin' kidding me?! I want to lie down and watch ER reruns until I drool!"

But no, he is not tired today. His new motto is "sleep is for the weak". He is an unstoppable force of pint sized determination.

I, however, am the thick dull sludge left in the bottom of the coffee pot when the burner has been on all night.

Update
He fell asleep not too long ago, snuggled warm with me on the couch. I tried to sleep, lay there for an hour listening to the traffic, the birds, the neighbor's loud oompa loompa polka music. No sleep. None. Finally got up before going stark raving mad.

One Year...

Since that amazing moving in my belly,

since the twinges turned to powerful urges.
One year since the screaming, and pushing.
It's been one year since they placed you on my stomach,
and I gazed at you in wonder,
spent, sweating, and so ready for a sandwich.

You have grown so much in that year.
You can walk, and crawl,
I swear today you said Balloon.
"Baa ooon... Baa ooon .. Ma ma na."
You are funny, and sweet, snuggly, and strong.
You love your Dad, and your Sister, and your Mom.

I love your smell,
That subtle sweaty sweetness
you get right before bath day.
I love your curly hair and sleepy eyes,
and the way you stick your butt in the air
at bedtime.

You are an amazing young man,
and I am so proud to be your mama.
Happy Birthday Otter!

"Baa ooon Ma ma na..... Baa ooon."

It's co-sleeping dear...

Not co-nighttime-play.

Otter was awake a lot last night. Monkey had a nightmare around two a.m., which woke him up and resulted in a very awake baby smacking me in the face and kicking me in the stomach for half an hour or so. (Monkey dreamed about Tarantulas biting her, which I stated was very unlikely for them to do, given their relatively mellow natures and small fangs, and maybe they were kissing her instead? It seemed to calm her down, but I fear I may be creating a truly warped child here.)

Then he woke up at 5:30 again, ready to start our day! (Crazy kid! The only thing I start at that hour is cursing!)

So here I am, so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open, and wishing I had been wise enough to fall asleep at 8.

Otter? Well he is tired too, but is he napping??? NO!! He is an unstoppable force of baby nature.... determinedly getting into every nook, cranny, drawer, meat cleaver, and poisonous plant in the world, while his bleary-eyed Mom tries to keep up.

Crap, he has the speaker wire again....

One small step for baby...

There we were, eating dinner and watching Sky High, when Lee announced "Otter just walked! All on his own!".

I whipped my head around but had missed the auspicious moment by seconds.
However, a few moments later the dog walked by, and Otter left the safety of the table and tottered across after her.

All by himself.

Then he did it again, tottering from me to Monkey. Little baby step by little baby step, a huge grin plastered across his face the whole way.

Monkey was shrieking "He walked!! He walked!!! Otter can walk!" at the top of her lungs. Her shrieking made Otter shriek his little high pitched excited giggle. I laughed, Lee laughed, the dog barked. Soon the room was filled with laughter and shrill shouts, a cacophony of joyous noise.

In the middle of it all, a young man, nearly one, who happily watched his family go completely nuts, after taking his first steps.

A perfect family moment, and all three of us were here to see it happen.

A lolly for me?...

What's that you have sister?
Is it sticky like tar?
It looks like something you've sneaked me,
while mom was driving the car.

I'll reach for it and whimper
my head moving side to side
with my arms outstretched
and my mouth open wide.

Please... oh please...

Wait, what is this?
Mommy's noticed my act...
is that... a lolly for me??
Yes it is, in fact!!


oooh! It's easy to hold,
and sticky and sweet!


I can put it in my mouth,
and smear it head to feet!


It's fun to rub on my eyebrow
and drag through my hair!


I can smear it all over myself
and my chair!!


Oh look, Mommy's back,
she's appalled at the mess!
All she says is:
"Off the shower I guess!"

Baby tickles the ivories...

He can do it!!

After months of scooting on his bottom, look who's crawling!!
(Please forgive the high squeaky voices, Monkey's gets that way when she is excited, and Otter really seems to like it when my voice closely resembles Minnie Mouse's. I don't know why, but he does.)


My little man is now mobile, and any thoughts of rest still clinging desperately to the dark corners of my mind have been obliterated. For example, I am here, in my office, blogging to you at 1 a.m. because there is no chance to sit down during the sane parts of the day.

However, I love watching him move around. He is so deliberate in where he places his hands and knees. It seems almost as though he has studied crawling, and has engineered the ideal manner in which to crawl, and is sticking to that!! I get to hear this little pat pat pat pat of his hands as he places them down. It is quickly becoming one of the soft background sounds of my day.

I love it!!

Otter was inspired to crawl at Susan's the other day. We were there watching her make a Striped Bavarian Cream dessert (which she lovingly brought to me today!) and having a little coze. She has these little gears on her fridge that move, and we turned them on. All of a sudden Oliver went from playing with a toy in the middle of the kitchen floor to crawling across the room to the gears. It was amazing to watch!!

I guess all he needed was the right motivation.

The NSBBM movement...

Otter is a big baby activist. He has spoken out on behalf of the No Down Babies movement, the No More Bottles movement, the Hell No Mom Can't Go movement, and the Anti-Baby Containment Devices movement. Frankly it has gotten challenging to keep up with all his political activities. (We do like to encourage a healthy interest in activism in this house, so we try.)

His latest cause is the No Separation Between Baby and Mommy movement (NSBBM). He is no longer contented with mere co-sleeping and night nursing. Now he has moved on to night snuggling. While I am more than pleased to snuggle the young man, I am a little upset that he will not stay asleep, unless he is snuggling me.

It starts about 4 or 5 a.m. (A time of night I prefer not acknowledge the existence of, but sadly am getting to know very intimately.)

Otter will stick his arms and legs straight out in front of him and roll toward me, making "eh eh eh" sounds while he searches for "the boob". He will not deign to open his eyes. Once his hungry mouth has found it's target, he will nurse contentedly until he falls back asleep.

At this point I will carefully remove him from my breast by pulling slightly away from him. This is when I used to be able to go back to sleep. Now however, this activity is met with opposition and strident protest.
"Eh eh eh" goes the baby, as he wiggles closer in an attempt to find "the boob" again. If it is not found soon, the "eh eh eh" will increase in volume until he is awake and crying, so I will capitulate, and offer it again, in the hopes of being able to go back to sleep sometime before 6 a.m. He will nurse for a few seconds and fall back asleep. That is, of course, until I try to extricate him from "the boob" once again.

Rinse, repeat.

If I am successful in removing him from the breast, he will snuggle up right next to me to sleep. This is nice, it is wonderful, except if I move at all, he will wake up. Also, I am usually right on the edge of the bed at this point, clinging for all I am worth to the mattress, having scooted over slightly each time I have removed him from my breast. (He also takes up a surprisingly large amount of bed real estate for such a tiny person.)

If I scoot him over, he will wake up.

If I move over to the other side of the bed, he will wake up.

If I get up, he will wake up.

It is too early to be up!! I want to sleep!

Argh!! I never thought I would be complaining about my children's desire to snuggle, but I really want to jump up and down, stomp my feet, and scream "STOP TOUCHING ME!!"

I love co-sleeping, but I have to be able to sleep. It's not called co-snuggling, or co-waking.

Any ideas of how I can continue to co-sleep, and yet still curb his increasing need to be my own personal fungus?

Because of course he did...

So there I was, securing the speaker cable from Otter's grasping hands, insuring he would no longer be able to chew on it.

While I was doing so, he managed to get into a drawer in the dresser behind me. What did he pull out to chew on?

A packet of needles!!

Because of course he did.

The leader of the Evil Empire is baby safe...

Monkey had a Darth Vader theme for her third birthday. She loved Darth Vader, and wanted to celebrate her birth with the leader of the Empire. So we got her Darth Vader goodies, and Death Star pez dispensers, and R2D2 rings, and invited children to defeat the rebels in style.

Why do I bring this up now? One of her presents from that long ago birthday was a stuffed Vader (courtesy of Uncle Devon.) Stuffy Darth has slept on her bed for three years, and she has conquered many a nightmare by pressing his chest and hearing him say "You don't know the power of the dark side".

Darth now hangs with her brother. We discovered that Otter likes him the other day. We also discovered that Darth, much to his evil chagrin I am sure, is baby safe. He has no small parts that can be chewed off. He is soft and cuddly. His mechanical breathing soothes the baby.

So there it is. Darth Vader is baby safe. It really makes the character a lot less intimidating doesn't it?

Otter all hands...

Otter is nine months old now and is all over the place!!

He can't crawl yet, but he can scoot across a room in the blink of an eye, especially if there is a speaker cable or electrical cord he could chew on, a trash can he can tip over and rifle through, or a plastic bag he can play with!

Yes, the warning labels on plastic bags were made for my son, and children like him! He is fascinated by almost anything that would prompt me to say "No, no, honey, you could hurt yourself." Safe, developmentally appropriate baby toys hold no interest for him.

He also has 300 hundred hands, though 298 of them are invisible to the naked eye. I am convinced it's a new step in the evolutionary process. He can get into anything and everything. His reach is far longer than I think it is, so he will suddenly lunge onto the side of a soup bowl or a glass of milk and splish... we go through a lot of laundry these days.

Luckily I am paranoid and keep all truly hot and sharp things out of my reach, much less his.

I am going to be led quite a merry chase by this young man over the next few years (or longer).

Otter had his first egg yolk the other day, he was not thrilled with actually eating the hard boiled egg yolk, but he was thrilled with the tactile sensations the yolk introduced.

Otter enjoys his first egg yolk:



He is also sleeping on his tummy a lot now, which is an amazing shift for the boy who spoke out publicly against tummy time. He is less vociferous now, and even enjoys it during the day from time to time. That is a good thing, as almost all his reaching attempts result in a downward schlump into tummy time.

"da,da,da,ya,ya,da,sssththss,eh" He says to me, which I believe means "Quit blogging Mother and pay attention to me!"

When did Steven Colbert get so sexy? (and Haiku Friday)

Is it just me, or did Colbert go from goofy faux correspondent, to slightly less goofy faux O'Reilly, to a fox!

This is him on the Daily Show:



He was doofy, he was goofy. He did not wear a power tie, he did not have a Kennedy Bouffant. He was the weird counterpart to sarcastically sexy Stuart.

This was him when his own show was announced:



Look at that! POW! He pops, he raises an inquisitive brow! He has "it". (Oh, and he is wearing a power tie. What is it with the power tie? Why does it make me think bad things?)

Now, it could be his amazing sense of humor, and the speech he gave at the White House Press Correspondents Dinner, which was a powerful moment in my political history and made me love him. However, even without these things, I think he has managed to increase his sex appeal.

In the end, it doesn't matter, he had me at "Folks, the President needs a break. He's like a Black and Decker cordless Dirt Devil vacuum. If you don’t recharge his batteries, he can't suck."

It is also Haiku Friday! Here is my first attempt:



Winter brings a change
Hillary gains momentum
Metamorphosis

What would Freud say?

Last night I had the following dream:
It was the day I planned to start Oliver on Rice Cereal, his first solid food. However, we were out of Rice Cereal, so instead, I made Oliver stone ground whole wheat spaghetti noodles in a butternut squash sauce.
I placed Oliver in the high-chair and began to give him his food, one tiny, cut up noodle at a time. He tasted his first noodle, got very interested, then started grabbing huge handfuls of noodles and stuffing them into his mouth.
"No, Oliver!" I exclaimed, while desperately trying to retrieve huge streams of noodles from his mouth, "One noodle at a time, this is the first time you have ever eaten real food! You might choke!"
As I frantically pulled noodles away from my boy, he kept grabbing them and shoving them in his mouth. Sauce went everywhere, noodles flew, and I kept trying to get back to one wee noodle at a time.
He looked as happy as a baby can be, trying out his new noodles, playing in them, with his little baby mouth shaped like a monkey, upper lip sticking out, noodles dripping down his chin.
When I woke up this morning, at the now usual ungodly hour, I just laughed.

Bed, bed everywhere, and not a wink of sleep.

Oliver woke up this morning somewhere around 5 or 6 am with an intense desire to discuss the crown molding around our bedroom wall. He lay in bed with me, nursing contentedly, but letting go every few moments to spill milk on the bed and point at the walls and comment loudly. In about half an hour I was completely awake, yawning like mad, and lying on a milk soaked bed with a very determined interior decorator in the making. I am uncertain if he likes the crown molding, or dislikes it, but it certainly seems to be worthy of much comment.

Why, why has my son found his voice? Is it all the yammering I do at him all day?"Who is a cute baby?" "Would the baby like some food?" "Is Oliver flying?" "Where is sister? Do you see sister?" "Who has stinky feet?"

Maybe he feels the need to comment in the morning because he knows he won't be able to get a word in edgewise for the rest of the day.

Sadly, I could have napped today, but I can't nap. I have never been able to nap. I either have to fall asleep accidentally or wait until bedtime. I believe it comes from my years as an insomniac, I lie in bed, thinking about all the things I could be doing with my time. When I try not to think about it, I lie in bed, telling my self to stop thinking about all the things I could be doing with my time. No naps for me, but I will need an early bedtime tonight.

Scott and Sierra are in town for the week, hanging out with us and being generally warm and cheerful. I am happy to have them here, and Marlena is thrilled. She loves her Dot.

Well, off to work for me, the frog waits for no one.

A morning of cuteness...

This morning Oliver settled on the couch next to Marlena and watched an episode of Dirty Jobs, Marlena's favorite show. (Lee has trained her to say that she needs to finish school and go to college so she can choose whether or not she wants to have a Dirty Job. It's pretty funny.)



The siblings enjoyed an early morning snuggle together for about half an hour, until Oliver was ready for second breakfast.

Our house is so comfy. The house is large enough that the dogs seem smaller, we seem smaller. As Devon put it, the house is actually to scale for us.

It is nice to wake up in a pleasant room with plenty of space for one's things. For the past year we lived in a dark tiny cramped space infested with ants and owned by two people who were determined to squeeze every dime they could out of us and not give much in return. Now we live in a huge open space, well lit, with gleaming hardwood floors and spanish tile. Sunlight streams in through the many windows, skylights, and glass paned doors.

Our current landlords are kind people. They are interested in making sure we are getting everything we need, and are willing to make necessary changes and repairs quickly and efficiently. They are also really nice, I like them a lot and look forward to working with them in the future.

We are almost finished setting up our bedroom/Oliver's room. It is a large space, but hard to capture on film. Nonetheless, as picutres were requested by a certain preggosaurus, I tried. (Everyone knows, you never turn down the request of a preggosaurus.)
Here is our bed and my dresser. To give you an idea of the size of the room, our bed is a King size, and has always been the item of furniture that turns rooms into timy spaces with no walking room. It fits neatly along one wall, next to my huge antique dresser, and leaves room for two end tables and a dog bed.

Our bathroom is through that white door there, it is green marble and burgandy paint. Mmmm.... Green and red, Lee's and my favorite colors. Oliver's changing station and storage are located on this wall. There is still plenty of space in the center of the room, and no sense of being cramped walking between the bed and the rest of the room.

Lee's dresser is on the wall with the crib, between the bathroom door and the door to our other room, which we have deemed the sitting/hangout room. It is larger than our bedroom. We haven't set it up yet, but soon it will have a couch, our T.V., our Apple T.V. system, a rocking chair, and our closet in it. Off to one side is a kitchenette and laundry room, where we have set up the cats. We plan to keep water and beverages up there, along with any non communal snacks.

Downstairs we have set up the kitchen, the office, and the living room. I have a photo of the living room, but the light was too odd to get the other rooms at the moment, so you will have to wait for those.

The house is really long, so all our rooms are set up such to allow flow through the whole thing. It is pretty calming and definately a comfortable set up.

Ah... I hear the strident tones of a certain young man. Thanks to all who responded to my Bar Exam rant, I appreciate the thoughts and insight.

The great poo of 2007... and a sorrowful exploration of life...

Okay, this post is bi-polar, as are my days most often of late.

The humorous part first, so those not wishing to feel sad can stop reading and retreat back to happyland. (Which is located no where near New Jersey.)

The great poo of 2007 struck full force tonight while I was enjoying an evening coffee with a friend, Tiff. Oliver, who had been poo free all day and was sitting calmly on my knee, suddenly exploded, sending a river of poo out of his diaper, down his leg, onto his shoe, onto my leg, down my leg, and onto the floor. Ick.

At first, unaware of the extent of the damages, I began to perform a quick diaper change in the nearly empty cafe on the chair next to me. (The bathroom has nowhere to change him.) Sadly, there were two factors conspiring against me. The first, Oliver had waited to perform his amazing feat until the cooing, baby friendly family had left the establishment and were replaced by the mean and glaring anti-poo family. Second, the extent of the poo rendered my "quick-change" plans useless.

I retreated to the bathroom and wiped my baby and I off as best I could. Happily, he felt much better, and my "quick-change" attempt had driven off the mad family, so Tiff and I were able to better enjoy the remainder of our coffee.

WARNING: The following contains not happy emotions.

I am struggling with something. I am supposed to sit for the NJ bar in nine days. I have not been able to study for it at all because I have a newborn, a child out of school for the summer, no nearby family, and recently moved.

Normally, these obstacles would be challenges to me, something to soar over and conquer with strength and grace. After all, I took and passed the Colorado Bar while preparing for a move to NJ, recovering from surgery, pregnant, and with my husband in another state. Because of this, many of the people in my life express their belief in my ability to take this bar and do well. I have my doubts.

There are differences between now and then. Fairly important ones. To begin with, the last bar I took after over 2000 hours of study with Nick. We had been at it for 6 months by the time the test came around. We had been at it for over twelve hours a day for the two months immediately preceding the bar. I was living with my parents, who were helping me with Marlena while Lee was in NJ. I had a pile of similarly situated friends around me, with treats and emotional support. I did not have a brand new baby.

Now, I am in NJ, with no family but Lee, and have been here for a year. I have friends, but none of them co-students. I have not been able to study more than about 30 hours. I have not slept longer than 4 or 5 uninterrupted hours in over 3 months. I have lost my previous study partner to drowning, and every time I start to work on the bar, I start to cry. My migraines are returning, I have anxiety attacks, and I have about a tenth of the support network I had before.

I am in the process of adjusting to a new house, a new baby, and a new town, again. I am still living out of boxes. I spend a great deal of time mourning the loss of my friend, my previous life, my days as a law student, and many other things. The rest of the time I care for my children and try not to let my feelings negatively effect them. I try and shop for groceries, get together with my friends, and shower before noon. I try and cook dinner for my family. I try to remember to feed myself.

I have been told I have the baby blues, I have been told all this is to be expected after the death of a dear friend. I have been told I can take the bar and just fail it if I can't study.

Except I can't just fail it. This is an area of my life where I have a bad case of OCD. I have literally bitten and torn my thumbs to pieces stressing out over not doing well on this exam. I have cried in frustration each time I have set a movie on for Marlena, gotten Oliver to sleep, tried to study, and been interrupted by him waking up, or Marlena needing a snack.

I have to hand write the exam, which is next to impossible on a good day because of my lovely RSS and the injuries I suffered when the dogs pulled me over the stroller and dragged me across the yard the other day.

I am at a completely indecisive standstill. I can't win. I feel like a failure if I give up and don't take it, but I will feel like a failure if I take it and don't pass. It is past the time that I can actually study in a real way and assure my passage. Taking it at this point is one big Hail Mary, thrown desperately from deep within my own territory.

So what do I do?

So many boxes, so little time...

We have too much stuff. Too many boxes littering the garage, the POD, and the house!! Argh! To make things worse, it is hot, hot, HOT. Oh, and did I mention Muggy? That's right, we are getting closer to the time of year in NJ when the heat and humidity combine to punch you unpleasantly in the face when you leave your house. At least we have AC in the new place.

Unfortunately we are discovering that life on the east coast is a major pain in the a*&. We can't get rid of the garbage generated from our last move. We are facing a crisis here, as the boro won't accept the boxes unless they are packed as recyclables, they won't accept more than three cans worth of thrash on pickup day, and the one hauler we got a hold of wants to charge us $475 to remove our stuff. I HATE IT HERE!!
Back home you can just lug it to the landfill, hand them a 20, and dump it. Not here, no... they have 4000 different municipalities, and ours doesn't have their own landfill.

Mutter mutter. Shake it off.

On the Oliver front:

This young man needed a new wardrobe, as he has outgrown all the newborn, 3-6, and 6-9 month clothing so lovingly given us by our friends and family. Luckily I caught a bunch of summer clothes on clearance at Target, and managed to secure him some dappper baby attire at minimal cost. Still, 3 months old and heading into 12 month old clothes? My baby is a tall and strong young man, soon he will be moving furniture for us.

Marlena has loved playing with her brother, and had begun to ape me with her own baby doll. For her birthday she got a baby play gym and carrier for her dolly and has been caring for "Alina" while I care for Oliver. It's pretty cute. She has also been reading bedtim stories to him. Oliver loves to hear her read, and watches her face the whole time with wide, excited eyes. Here she is snuggling her brother.


Well I am off to mom's thing, and then back to the dreaded house to prepare some boxes for recycling. Sigh.