What're you lookin' at? | Ramblings from a self-proclaimed yada yada yada...ist

I really called it on the NaBloPoMo thing...

...because seriously. Two blog posts for the whole month? My lack of posting this November surprised even me.

But it wasn't without good reason. Between my work trip to New Hampshire, organizing this house, being pregnant, and for the last week, being sick, non-paid blogging had to take a back seat. I did take a stab at it last Wednesday around midnight when Kara should have been down for the count, but she decided to wake up and torture me for THREE AND A HALF HOURS before finally settling down. By the time Luke came in to check on things, both Kara and I were sobbing; he offered to take over, but I would not accept defeat. I did, however, call my sister Samantha the very next day to say that we wouldn't be able to make baby Danny's baptism that following Sunday. I felt absolutely horrible about it, but after countless days of coming home late from work, soothing Kara at night, and traveling on the weekends, we were all burned out. The thought of leaving the zip code after what I like to think of as The Night From Hell was more stressful than picking up the phone and calling Samantha, who was totally understanding about the whole thing. When we all woke up on Saturday morning with runny noses and raspy coughs, I felt even more confident that we made the right decision.

Luke and I also decided that for our own sanity, we were done with traveling indefinitely--our next trip won't happen until sometime after Baby Brother is born and we're feeling adventurous enough to get on the road with two little ones in tow. Luke's parents came to share Thanksgiving with us, so we weren't without family, and Christmas plans are still in progress. However it plays out, though, Luke and I will just be happy to be home.

OK, enough yapping. I owe you a shit load of pictures. Here are some of the latest of Kara:

 

Our little girl is eleven months old now. I am not ready for next month when she'll be one. Her burst of activity is amazing--she's cruising all over the house now, crawling only when she's feeling shy or when I'm chasing her and those cute baby legs can't keep up. She still has only two teeth, but I can see a bunch of white spots shining through her top gums, and I'm terrified they'll all come in at the same time. She dances, too, bouncing up and down, waving her hands, and doing this robot thing with her arms that reminds me of the zombies from Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video.

 

Nights have been hard since we moved; most of the time Kara will wake up crying at least once. Luke and I have taken to picking her up and rocking her back to sleep because it's the easiest way to get her back down. Eventually this will have to stop and we'll revert back to comforting her while she remains in her crib, but right now things are so hectic that we'll do whatever we can to score the maximum amount of sleep. Plus, as I think about what life with Baby Brother will be like, I can't help but enjoy those nights with her a little bit, even when they're super hard, and even though it takes an extra dose of creativity to hold Kara against me in a way that doesn't put pressure on my ginormous belly. Part of me wishes Luke and I had more time to enjoy our girl before adding another child to the mix, so when those snuggle-time moments present themselves, I have to take them. So what if they make me want to pull my hair out?

Kara seems to be enjoying the house. Luke and I are adopting open floor plans in as many rooms as possible to cut back on clutter and take advantage of all this new space. Our living room is the best example of this; aside from our sleeper sofa, love seat, a couple of end tables, and our poor excuse for an entertainment center, the only other items are Kara's Pack 'n Play and several cloth bins of books and toys. This means she can run around to her heart's content and we can clean up her messes in five minutes or less. Everybody wins!

The biggest parenting challenge I faced this month was my overnight stint in New Hampshire. Luke and Kara drove me to the airport at 11 a.m. Tuesday morning and picked me up about the same time that Friday. From the moment I learned about the trip, I started freaking out. Three nights away from home is a long time, especially when it's your first time away and you can't explain to your kid that you're coming back soon, OF COURSE you're coming back. Good-bye was the worst; I started bawling before we even got to the airport. Luckily, Kara was asleep, so I was spared any tears on her behalf (she hates when I leave the car without her), but trying to kiss her sweet little face enough to last me THREE WHOLE DAYS tore at my soul. The actual trip, though, wasn't too bad. It was nice to sleep in a king-sized bed and eat dessert every night and shower as long as I wanted. Plus, since my flight was out of Boston, I spent my last night strolling along the streets of downtown buying souveniers at Quincy Market and taking a quick peak at Fanuil Hall, which I had been calling Nathaniel Hall, thus portraying myself as a colossal idiot slash tourist. (My boss, who knew better, was very gracious. The mail folks who came across my postcards to Luke probably weren't as kind.) I also got to meet Ben Franklin. His business card read, "Have kite. Will travel."

 

So. That's what I've been up to this month. I'm well aware that I still owe you after pictures of the new house, pictures I originally intended to post in this entry, but I think we can all agree I've rambled long enough. Don't you worry, though; I've already saved the winners to my desktop. They are definitely coming.

No tricks, just treats

Tonight was Kara's first Halloween, not to mention Luke's and my first one as homeowners, so while it was a low-key event of indulging in the wonder that is satellite television and jumping to answer the doorbell, it was special, nonetheless. Kara was wearing her pumpkin costume when Luke came to pick me up at work, and she was admired by numerous trick-or-treaters and their moms when I passed out candy, baby on one hip, the goods in another. Since we only moved in on Tuesday, there wasn't time for creative decorating, but I wanted to make sure people knew we were "Halloween friendly" territory, so Luke ran to the store last night to buy some of those orange pumpkin bags you stuff with leaves and a few spooky window clings for the front door. I was so excited to have kids at our door and so grateful they didn't skip our house for lack of not knowing who we were that oftentimes I actually thanked them for stopping by. We handed out two to three pieces of candy to each kid, thus scoring major brownie points in the Cool Neighbors Department (one boy actually gasped), and Kara's adorableness went over quite well with their parents. A win-win for all, to be sure.

My favorite part of the night occurred while Luke was putting Kara to bed and two boys dressed as the Super Mario brothers came to collect their just desserts.

"Trick or treat!" they exclaimed.

"Wow, look! It's Mario and Luigi!" I said while dropping Reese's cups, Laffy Taffys, and Nerds boxes into their grocery bags.

"Luigi," who couldn't have been older than five, looked me straight in the eye and replied, "We're not real, you know."

"Thanks for clearing that up," I said.

My second and third favorite parts happened when a mini-Dorothy accepted her candy then tried to come into the house and one of the local teenagers welcomed us to the neighboorhood. "Did you just move in? I love the way a new house smells," he said. Was he being genuine or just aiming for more candy? Who cares? That's one smart kid.

Kara had a great time "helping" with the trick-or-treaters and generally melted my heart with her cuddly pumpkin self. Who knew ten-month-olds were so damn fun?

 

Look at me! A baby and a pumpkin! Such the multi-tasker, I know.

  

  Pumpkins don't get any respect.

 

Why does my mom think I look like a pea pod in this picture? The world may never know.

 

My fellow Americans, let me explain why I believe children under the age of one should be allowed to eat Kit-Kats, no matter what our silly parents say.

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There is certainly plenty to say about our big move and the process of settling into our new home (not to mention I owe you some seriously amazing after pictures that reflect thousands of dollars in paint and flooring), but that's for another day. In the meantime, Happy Halloween and Happy NaBloPoMo for those of you jumping on the bandwagon tomorrow. This is the first year I won't be participating, and I'm crying on the inside about it, but I can barely post once a week these days. Once every day for a month? Why not go ahead and ask me to stop searching for Baby-sitters Club books at the half-priced bookstore? Both are equally possible.

Bloggers* in flight

* I can call us that because even though Luke hasn't posted since June, he still does have a blog, and Kara certainly held her own during my back-to-work hiatus, and it makes for a short and catchy title, and it's one fifty-seven in the morning as I sit to write this people, give me a break, will you?

I'm tired.

It feels like the last couple of weeks have been non-stop around here. My little family did make the looong trip to Chicago two weekends in a row, once to see my sister Ryan off to Germany, and once for my nephew Danny's baptism, though it was canceled at the last minute due to the poor little guy spitting up constantly and his pediatrician's recommendation that Samantha and Dan bring him to the hospital for observation. Thankfully, it appears to be a simple case of acid reflux to the -enth degree, but he gave his parents a little scare, nonetheless. So the weekends, not exactly a time for productivity.

Plus, work has been busy, and I had to play a lot of advance catch-up to be able to take the first part of this week off. Then there's the Web training seminar I'll be taking in Nashua, New Hampshire, next month, for which I'll be gone three nights, and the very idea of being away from Kara that long has me feeling much like I did in the days leading to my return to work in March. It's been suggested several times that I bring Luke and Kara with me, but between my tight schedule and our tight budget, it's not a good idea. I just have to wear my big-girl panties and resign myself to a good cry on the nights I should be putting her to bed.

And of course, in between work and family and trips up north has been our house, our blessed, wonderful, pain-in-the-ass house that is eating our money and sucking our will to live. To be fair, it's not so much the house itself as it is some of the contractors that have been dragging their feet (I'm looking at you, Cutting Edge Flooring). The last loose end should be tied up tomorrow, and then we can finally collect our spare keys and collapse in a sea of cardboard boxes and Tupperware bins that unfortunately won't unpack themselves. I'm so sad about leaving this apartment--this modest, two-bedroom apartment, where I held Kara to my chest and sobbed the night we came home from the hospital, where the two of us spent hours of my maternity leave snuggled on the couch while the snow fell outside, content to just sleep and breathe each other in--and yet, so excited about our new home, a home that will see a properly sized Christmas tree and stockings along the staircase (I just listened to our holiday playlist on iTunes, can you tell?) and the pitter-patter of little feet that my heart smiles just thinking about it. It's a bag of mixed emotions I've got going on here, but I'm hoping the joy wins out once we're settled in and I can revel in hammering nail holes wherever I damn well please.

All of this would explain why my contest winners have yet to receive their prizes, but rest assured, friends, they're coming soon to a mail box near you.

In the meantime, pictures! Good ole pictures. They're like the the pinch-hitters of blogging, when words are not enough (or just really boring).

 

Here are a couple from last weekend, aka Ryan's American farewell. She and Jason probably won't visit until sometime next fall, so we tried to soak up as much of her as we could. The sentiment seemed lost on Kara, though.

 

In this shot, the childbearing sisters attempt to show off their offspring while the offspring couldn't care less. Way to ruin a Kodak moment, kids.

 

How cute is my nephew? Let me count the ways.

   

Okay, one more, but really, how cute IS he? And can you believe that come February, this picture will be my life? GAAAAH.

 

Here, Kara and Grandma Dunscombe have a meeting of the minds.

 

Kara wants YOU to know about the awesomeness of Daddy D.

We weren't in Chicago long enough this past weekend to pull out the camera very much, but I did catch one of Kara and my mother in a full-fledged hands-and-knees face-off. Grandma seems determined to win, but she's no match for Kara's adorableness. That always trumps speed.

 

One of the rare instances in which Kara allows herself to be lulled to sleep by the sounds of the highway.

And now, seeing as it's three in the morning and Luke is already hauling miscellaneous crap to our car, I'm going to sign off, but not before I tease you with the promise of after pictures the minute AT&T says we can.  

Closing time

So. Today is closing day! The day Luke and I officially become homeowners for the first time in our lives. Final walk-through is at 2:30 p.m., closing is at 3:00, and of course we're still waiting to get final numbers from the bank for our cashier's check because why should we expect things to run smoothly?

I came into work this morning with a huge rock in my stomach (aside from Baby Brother), and as excited as we are to begin this new chapter of adulthood, Luke and I couldn't be more nervous. And because everything's happening so late in the afternoon, I'm not sure how we're going to celebrate. Maybe remove the "For Sale" sign in the front yard. Possibly go out to dinner because there's dried Rice-A-Roni on the stove from last night and Kara will need to eat shortly after we close and our apartment is a good forty minutes from our new pad. Continue to hash out paint colors and a schedule of what we can reasonably expect to accomplish before our October 28th move-in day. Originally the plan was to spend three weekends painting the entire house and the last weekend moving in, but my nephew Danny's baptism is now set for on October 26 and by the way, Ryan is moving to Germany to reunite with her army husband the weekend before that, and there's no way I'm missing out on my last chance to see her before spring. This leaves us only two working weekends left, so the NEW objective is to simply finish the second floor before the new carpet and bathroom tiles are installed later in the month.

Not that any of this makes me the slightest bit uneasy. Or crabby. Or hungry for a big bowl of spinach dip and a day in my pajamas.

It's overwhelming, how much there is to do before vacating our apartment; so overwhelming, in fact, that all I can do is think about October in small, manageable chunks. Call the flooring company. Price-check options for Internet, phone, and cable. (Yes, after more than three years of doing without, the Frema-Useless Clutter household just might hop on the cable bandwagon again.) (Also, I'm thinking not so much with the Comcast.) Buy primer and paint. Figure out when to paint. Figure out what to do with Kara. I would totally put her to work if she could walk more than five steps at a time. Also, if she could be trusted to keep her gums off the paintbrush.

(Actually, we do have some plans for Kara. A friend of mine from work who I knew from my Saint Joe days is going to come to the house and keep her company next Saturday so Luke and I can tackle the upstairs at the same time. Marissa heard about our baby-sitterless plight and actually volunteered to baby-sit. Hopefully this will be the beginning of a beautiful, paid friendship.)

In more uplifting news, did I tell you how much fun Kara is these days? Oh, wait, I guess I did. But I want to document it here, too, that my baby toddles and eats yogurt and "reads" her board books the right way and still has to play with my hair when I rock her to sleep. Luke and I are constantly looking at pictures from her newborn days and marveling over how much personality she's developed since then, how active she is, and how she loves us through each fumble. I would never categorize myself as patient, and I'm embarrassed to admit how damn frustrating parenthood is sometimes, but despite my shortcomings, Kara still scrambles to my arms when I come home each day. The biggest fear I had about being a working mom--that she wouldn't want me as much--has now reversed into my biggest obstacle, at least when trying to tackle my daily to-dos. She can't get enough of me. But I wouldn't want it any other way.

It's amazing to think that soon, there will be TWO little wonderfuls vying for my attention.

This was taken last Wednesday morning to document me at 20 weeks. Tomorrow I will be 21 weeks. Where is the time going?

Kara doesn't know, either.

It's mind-boggling, how much I love her.

Let's Hear It For The Boy

Well, THERE went two weeks of personal blogging I'll never get back.

The mini-hiatus was unintentional, but life, it has been busy. Between welcoming sweet baby girls, working out insurance and inspection details for our September 30 closing, and keeping up with projects at work, I'm lucky I've managed to update my Parents blog. But, you know, they pay me, so it wasn't that hard of a decision to make.

Speaking of Parents, if you're a follower, you learned on Friday that a penis was discovered in my uterus.

Thanks to the cheesecake I had at lunch, Baby Brother was much more cooperative during his ultrasound than Kara was for hers, so we saw the goods twice. Also, his very adorable profile.

Oh, and we might've purchased a few little boy things. Maybe. Just a few.

I so thought this baby was going to be a girl (thanks for nothing, stupid old wives' tales), but disappointed would be the last word I'd use to describe what it felt like to learn about my son. Luke and I couldn't be more excited.

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I really appreciated all of your comments regarding our new house and our plight with the kitchen cabinets. Despite the amount of work we know it's going to take, Luke and I have decided to bite the bullet and repaint them a soft, creamy color. Paired with a khaki/tan shade on the walls, that should be enough to even things out and keep the first-floor rooms from clashing with each other, no matter what colors we end up using. I was quite impressed with Dr. Maureen's paint job, and after seeing her "before" pictures, I better understand why in certain cases, painting over the wood actually makes more sense than keeping the cabinets in their current condition. I have no idea what shape my cabinets were in before they were subjected to all that green, but after visiting the Valspar Web site to review paint swatches, I think I know where the sellers got their inspiration.

Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

The kicker? I actually DON'T MIND the color scheme in this room. But when you swap out the laminate flooring for a blah white tile and eliminate more than half the square footage, including the kick-ass island, what could have been a warm and inviting look becomes cramped and mismatched in a less impressive space. Oh, well. Live and learn.

The time between now and when we actually move in October is already making me nervous, wondering if we can paint every room and every damn cabinet prior to the second floor's carpet and tile job, prioritizing the items we want to add/upgrade in our home, counting every penny and trying to maximize it best we can. It's overwhelming now, but I trust that once we have the keys in hand, everything will suddenly appear much more managable. In the meantime, let's all ooh and ahh over Kara, who turned nine months old today and currently steals our hearts with her open-mouthed kisses, determination to walk, and ability to babble Mama and Dada at just the right time.

The apple of our eye indeed!

Much cuter than the professional shots she took at Target last month. We'll be redoing them this weekend at Portrait Innovations.

Today it's orchards, tomorrow undergraduate education. Sob.

In case you couldn't tell, I got a haircut, too

You don't mind an entry chock full of pictures, do you? Good. Because I am very tired and these images are the only reason I was motivated to post tonight.

Last week, Luke, Kara, and I spent four days up north visiting family, prompted by the fact that my new brother-in-law, Jason, was on a two-week leave from duty in Iraq, and not only did I have to miss his and Ryan's wedding (remember my Saint Joe scare?), he was deployed before Kara was born, so he still hadn't met his niece. We wasted no time getting them properly introduced.

Uncle Jason was happy to see Kara, though he admitted at one point, "I don't know what to do with her!" Here they are both looking to my mom for further instruction.

For our four nights away from home, we spent the first and last one at Luke's parents house and the middle two with Samantha and Dan. My sister is just over a week away from her due date, which just so happens to fall on the anniversary of her wedding. Little Danny Junior's arrival is eagerly anticipated by all.

(Here would be a great place to include Samantha's picture, except that I didn't take any. Bad big sister!)

Here's Luke reading to Kara one of the mornings we stayed with Samantha and Dan. I'm including it because Kara munching on her bunny's ear--the one that has helped her recover from a rough sleep patch these last couple of months--is way adorable, and it showcases one of her very favorite books: Gossie and Gertie, which is actually part of a Gossie-and-friends-type series. MY favorite is the one about BooBoo because it talks about burps, and what could be cuter then a story about a gosling who burps?

 

On Saturday morning, our little family stole away for a couple of hours and drove to Navy Pier. It was Kara's first time seeing Lake Michigan, and Luke and I had a blast strolling her down the boardwalk and giving her a view of the water. The Pier is one of my favorite Chicago landmarks, so it was probably natural that I felt a ping of sadness over not living closer and being able to see it any old time we wanted. Staying in Indianapolis is the best option for us right now, but part of me holds out for the chance of someday making the move to northwest Indiana, where the grass is green and the commuter trains are pretty.

Later that afternoon I attended a surprise baby shower for Molly (I know she'll be sharing pictures soon) (hint, hint, Molly), and while I was gone Luke and Kara hung out with my mom, who was ecstatic over having so much time with her granddaughter. There are some especially cute pictures over at Parents, where Kara's reading Grandma's face Helen Keller style and Grandma's teaching Kara this "so big!" move that she absolutely loved.

(Notice Kara's travel chair? It's a Chicco Caddy Hook-On Chair we can use at places where a high chair isn't available. It was thirty-five bucks and works like a charm, though Kara did cling to me for dear life the first couple of times she was in there.)

Kara likes the hustle and bustle of Chicago, but she also enjoys the quiet calm we experience when we visit Grandma and Grandpa Dunscombe. Also, Grandpa provides adequate lap space for naps.

The next day, before we headed out of town, we stopped to visit Molly and Jack. They were both excited to see Kara, because Molly has baby girl fever and Jack still gets a kick out of Kara's "Oopsie" video. I think they had a good time with each other, though Jack was not thrilled with Kara's tendency to drool on his toys.

Jack's like, "What are you doing with my bus, woman?" and Kara's like, "Boat?"

I don't know why innocent pictures like this make me want to joke about a future pairing, but they do, except then I get weirded out contemplating my baby daughter's potential love matches. Forgive me, Jack.

Molly and I juggling small children and fetuses (feti?) in utero. Neither of us expected to get knocked up with surprise babies this year, but who does? And anyway, there's nobody I'd rather freak out with.

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Now, the random stuff.

My Hoosier Momma shirt turned out to be too small, so my embarassment over wearing it can wait until next year. Maybe we'll just save it for bedtime.

It looks like the top three venue choices for BlogHer 2009 are Portland, Philadelphia, and St. Louis. I voted for St. Louis because it's closest in proximity to Indianapolis, but I would be way stoked to visit Philly again. I went there with Luke in 2004 to visit his best friend. We visited Old City and Valley Forge and took a ghost tour and all of it was awesome. Luke is actually encouraging me to sign up next year and even suggested that the four of us (!) could go together and turn part of the trip into a mini family vacation. I am so all over that; I really did have a great time last year. My only hang-up is my purpose for attending: my personal blog is often left to collect dust, so ads are definitely not a part of my near future, and sometimes it's difficult to keep up on the one I get paid for. Am I looking for larger readership? More freelance work? Or simply network (Amalah, for the love of God, PLEASE SAY YOU'RE GOING IN '09) and have a good time? Is that good enough?

I suppose it doesn't really matter. Luke's on board with my going, and I bring in enough money from blogging that attending a conference like this would be totally worth it. Count me in.

This week has been great to me, baby-wise. I entered my thirteenth week and experienced an energy surge that didn't come until closer to week eighteen with Kara, and my work unveiled a new maternity leave policy, effective immediately, that pays six weeks at one-hundred-percent salary. Words can't express the impact this will have on my life, but I make the attempt over at Parents.

On the housing front: Luke, Kara, and I will visit three more houses on Indy's south side. Wish us luck.

Lastly, Kara is just nine days away from turning eight months old and making the cutest "mamadadababa" babbles you've ever heard in your life. On Monday morning, Luke will take her in for her first professional photo shoot. I didn't realize how bummed I'd be over not being able to join them, but I'm already leaving early that day for an ob/gyn appointment, and things are too busy for me to take off the whole day. Where did the time go? When did my sweet baby girl go from this:

To this?

Hell if I know, but damn if she isn't the most beautiful person I've ever met.

Also, I heard "Summer in the City" on the radio today, and it made me think of Sweatin' to the Oldies and how much I love Richard Simmons. Just in case you were wondering.

After four plus years of blogging, you'd think the stage fright that used to accompany each blog post would be gone. And when I was writing regularly, it was. There wasn't a lot of pressure on any one entry because the frequency of posts balanced out the crap.

Now, though, it's a wonder if I update more than once a month, so even though I'm coming up with ideas all the live-long day, I don't follow through with most of them because I think, Is that something I want sitting on my front page for three weeks? And usually it's not, so my blog collects dust, when in fact all those little nothings could have equalled a semi-interesting collection of pseudo twitters, and then you wouldn't have to click on a blog that's been dormant since the first of the month.

Anyway, with this entry, I'm not going to overthink flow or grammar or even quality, because I received three totally awesome e-mails from blog readers this weekend alone, not to mention the outpour of support I've gotten since announcing baby Number Two's impending arrival, so I'm totally feeling the love for the Internet, and it almost makes me wish I'd bitten the bullet and gone to BlogHer this year, except there's no way I could afford it and the idea of traveling to California is too intimidating and what business do I have going to a blogging conference when one of my blogs is treated like an ugly step-sister?

(I really should have said Cinderella, since she's the one who got dumped on, but she was gorgeous and had a fairy godmother and eventually snagged the prince, so no tears for her.)

• Still nothing new on the house front. Luke and I set up a meeting with our realtor for Wednesday afternoon so we can touch base and talk out some different ideas. She's been in touch via e-mail, but we haven't seen her since early June, and it seems appropriate to catch up face-to-face. We're exploring a few neighborhoods that weren't on the radar before, and we've saved up a little more money to add to our down payment, but we still have to stick within the original parameters we set for our mortgage, so really, nothing significant has changed. We signed our lease for another three months, so the goal is to close on something by Halloween, because another three-month lease would put us at the end of January, and there's no way I'm moving when I'm thisclose from being nine months pregnant. I'd rather stay in the apartment for another year before going through that kind of stress. We'll see what happens.
• Last Friday I saw a car in front of me hit a bird, and it spiraled in the air and landed right underneath my Cobalt. That was pleasant.
• Did you know I'm one of ten finalists to win a Chicco Trevi Twin double stroller? It's true! Last week, one of my readers e-mailed me to share news of a contest hosted by Amazing Trips, and 55 commenters posted stories as to why they thought they should win the stroller. I posted a sob story of my own about having a baby and being pregnant with a baby and saving for a house and hello, there are no money trees where I live. Jen chose ten finalists, and it turns out I'm one of them! Voting takes place until 11:59 p.m. tomorrow, so you have plenty of time to visit her site and take her poll in the left side bar to stack the odds in my favor. I don't think I'll win--I'm up against a foster-to-adopt mother and a woman expecting her second set of twins--but I'd like to give it the good ole college try. Thanks for the heads up, Cameron!
• All the talk of BlogHer reminded me that I never wrote part two of 2007's BlogHer: the rest of the story recap. My bad.
• Like I said, I'm not too bummed about missing it this year, but of course this is when Amalah goes again. Also, boo hoo over no free swag.
• My very pregnant sister Samantha and her husband, Dan, came to visit during the Fourth of July weekend, and with them they brought boxes of crap I've been storing in my parents' basement for oodles of years. At first I was nervous about finding a place to keep everything, but then I realized that eighty percent of it really was crap that could go straight to the recycling pile. Most of the loot included old Baby-Sitters Club and Archie comic books, and while I would love nothing more than to build a shrine in honor of my childhood reads, the books weren't properly stored, so they were covered in dust, and I had (have) a bad habit of scribbling on pages when I'm reading, so it's not even like they were in good enough condition to pass on to my kids, thus sharing the eighties love. I did keep a few of my favorites (a few being twenty), but the majority were shipped off to Goodwill because I didn't know what else to do with them. I doubt they're sellable, but hopefully they'll give some of the clerks a good laugh.
• I also found other gems like handwritten notes from middle school (complete with origami-like folding) and another (lesser) masterpiece by lil' Frema:

• You're probably thinking, Oh no, she didn't, but oh yes, I did. And I will share it with you, when I have time to scan the pages.
• Speaking of books, remember Cringe? The one that's publishing my tragically misspelled poem about unrequited love? Well, it's coming to a Barnes and Noble near you on August 27th. There's going to be a huge release party in New York in September, a release party I most definitely cannot afford to attend, but there's also going to be a national book tour, and if there's a stop anywhere near Indianapolis, I'll do whatever it takes to show up and read my submission. You'll come, too, won't you?
• When looking for the above linked-to entry, I scrolled through a mass of third-trimester pregnancy photos, and my God, I was a house. The belly, so huge.
• You are still not allowed to say such things to me. One of my coworkers came up to me last week and said, "I think you're showing already!" and I smiled weakly, but people. It is never OK to tell a woman she's getting bigger.
• Still crying inside over not seeing Sex and the City while it was at the show.
• The recent slew of new-baby celebrity names have been terrible. I feel like Knox should be the worst of the bunch, but I can't get over Honor. All I can hear is, "I don't know about you, but I'd sure like to get Honor!"
• MY baby is doing just fine, thank you for asking. Kara turned seven months last Thursday and continues to crawl and pull up on furniture like crazy. She also has a great time eating the peas, carrots, sweet potatoes, and butternut squash Luke purees just for her. And holy crap, does it save a lot of money. Do you know how much commercial baby food costs these days? Not cheap. She eats some store-bought things--mostly fruit--but still, mad props to my husband for owning this task.
• Motherhood Uncensored recently wrote a post about super-secret bastard iPod songs, and many readers shared their own bastard songs, but most of them were "safe" bastard choices like "Brick House" and "Come On, Eileen"--songs that nobody's REALLY embarrassed to admit to. I offered a few illegitimates of my own, but it wasn't until weeks later that I remembered the one song I absolutely love that until now, I've NEVER shared with anyone:
• "One on One" by Hall and Oates. I bet you didn't think it was possible for this tune to set the stage for Deep Thoughts about life and love, but it does. It really, truly does.
• I love Judge Judy with a passion usually reserved for cheesecake and those little fries at Steak 'n Shake. I want her to be my grandma.
• Dear Abby can be a fun aunt.
• I still write my Parents blog.
• You should read it.
• I spend way too much time thinking about baby names. Swistle's blog doesn't help.
• I'm hooked on All My Children again, and I think the current plot is just a terrible ploy to write Annie off the show and facilitate a Ryan-Greenlee reunion. I hated them together, but I loved watching them get together, if that makes any sense. Also, I don't like the new Colby, and I love that Erica continued to blow out her hair and do her make-up IN PRISON.
• I'm giving up on non-fiction for a while because it's hurting my brain. I tried to read The Feminine Mistake because I was intrigued by the premise but after forty pages I realized she was talking about white-collar, six-figure-dollar professional women, and not the average mom trying to make it on a middle-class or working-class income. Hell, Atlas Shrugged would give me less of a headache.
• On a related note, guess what I'm reading again.
• I think Ayn Rand's philosophy is crap, and I usually end up skipping the main character's hundred-page agenda-toting monologue at the end, but hot damn, do I love this book.
• The Fountainhead is awesome, too.
• In college I wanted to take an independent study focusing on Ayn Rand, but because nobody in the English department felt qualified to take it on, I worked with a professor who had a background in politics. That was cool with me because I loved him, and plus I'd already taken his Intro to Political Theory class where he covered Atlas Shrugged, which is how I read it for the second time and actually the reason I signed up for the course in the first place.
• This was fun!
• I promise to post more, even if it's just a couple of lines here and there.
• It's now almost midnight, and waaaay past my bedtime. The things I do for the Internet.
• Here are pictures of my kid.

What's happenin', hot stuff?

I'm supposed to do what with this?

A six-month-old's lament

Dear Internet,

Why is my mom all about the disappearing acts lately? This hiatus was even lamer than the last one. I didn't even get a chance to post! What's up with that?

Grrr,
Kara

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Dear Kara,

When you type negative comments about your mother using her very own blog, remember she can read them. Also, that she has the power to take that pacifier away faster than you can crawl after her.

Love,
Momma

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Well, if my non-literate baby daughter took the time to ask such deep and meaningful questions, the least I can do is answer them. Maybe you're interested, too!

But really, it's quite boring. I never intended this place to collect dust for as long as it did. Every few days I'd intend to post, but first-trimester yuck caught up to me, to the point that once Kara was down for the night, I was down for the night. I could pull myself together long enough to post on Parents, but not for anything that didn't absolutely require some level of attention. Plus, I'm still feeling hella overwhelmed about this baby (as evidenced by my recent Parents freak-out), and I wasn't sure what to say about it here. I go back and forth between feeling completely off my game about having two kids so close together and completely guilty that I'm not one-hundred-percent over-the-moon about our new addition, which I know is a gift from God, a gift I will love just as much as Kara. But right now the big picture is hazy, as the every day is spent battling UTIs, trying to find an appetite (yet simultaneously wondering why I've only lost a pound), sleeping whenever I get the chance, and bemoaning my overall lack of energy. I don't want to complain all the time. I don't want people to think I'm asking for sympathy. But I can't pretend I'm over this hump yet, physically or emotionally.

It helps that Luke and I have put off house-hunting for a bit. Our whirlwind touring process ended with us making offers on three houses in two weeks, none of which worked out. In all three cases the counter was too high, and the sellers weren't willing to come down any more, and we couldn't afford to go up more than a couple of thousand. The first house we bid on was actually a pipe dream -- it had only been on the market one day, so we knew they wouldn't be desperate enough to go down as much as we wanted, but it never hurts to try -- but the last two offers were acknowledged to be quite reasonable by the seller's agents. It sounds like in each case, the sellers owed more than the houses were worth and couldn't accept much less than their original purchase price. Which, OK, but then why is your house on the market? Why not wait until the economy improves and get more bang for your buck? Whatever. Luke and I are taking the next couple of months to save up a larger down payment (thank you, July bonus) and clear our heads so we don't settle on something that won't work in the long run. I really hope all three of those houses are still on the market when we get back on track. Maybe they'll like our offers then, bastards.

(Not that I'm bitter or anything.)

Things around here are OK. Kara officially turned six months old a couple of weeks ago and weighs in at a whopping 21 pounds and 11 ounces and measures 28 3/4 inches long. She's crawling, pulling up on furniture, kind of submitting to a somewhat regular nap schedule, and laughing. The laughing is the best -- full-on, belly laughs that I didn't think were possible for babies, but they are. And on Saturday night, we caught it on video.

I look terrible, and my voice is super annoying, but surely you can get past all that to appreciate my beautiful baby girl. We couldn't be more delighted with her.

FYI, we haven't been able to get a reaction like that from her since, even with the magic word "Oopsie," so let's just thank our lucky stars we captured it when we did.

(It's totally inappropriate for me to watch this clip and wish I'd pointed at my belly during one of the "Oopsies," right? Probably yes?)

Also, in case you were wondering, the newest Frema-Useless Clutter embryo (who from here on out shall be known as Number Two) isn't doing so bad, either.

There's not much to see right now, but the first picture includes a tiny yet helpful arrow to indicate Number Two's current residence. This ultrasound was taken when I was exactly six weeks along and suggests a due date of February 11, 2009. If I have another c-section (which my doctor suggests), I'd go a week earlier, putting my children just shy of 14 months apart. Tomorrow I will be eight weeks. This early part of pregnancy is going exactly like I remembered -- loooong, and also BLECH -- and I'm already waiting in earnest for that second-trimester burst of energy that didn't come until around week 18 with Kara. Hopefully, Number Two will be more considerate, but probably not. I bet Kara posted crib notes on the wall of my uterus, instructing future siblings on proper prenatal behavior, just to spite me.

For those of you who haven't stopped checking this blog for signs of life, I will do my best not to flake out again, but see above regarding BLECH. Thanks for hanging in there.

For what it's worth...

I told myself it didn't matter, not having a positive pregnancy test. A blood prick from the doctor's office is way more telling than a first morning's urine, and the last thing I need to do is waste three-fifty on something that offers redundant information. But tonight I asked Luke to pick up a Target-brand HPT, anyway, frugality be damned, because I am a girl and biologically programmed to pee on sticks. I need proof. I need the two pink lines. Or in this case, a big blue plus sign.

Mission accomplished.

It's about damn time.

Congratulations, pregnant self! Call me crazy, but it's much more real now.

Things have been crazy-busy around here. Last Wednesday, Luke and I lost two hours of married life talking numbers with our mortgage lender and visited seven homes in four hours on Sunday. Today we saw three more plus the most promising one from the weekend, and tomorrow we will make an offer.

House hunting has proven to be one of the most interesting experiences of my life, and the most exhausting, especially when you're schlepping around a six-month-old who will only tolerate so much car seat before her screams permeate a twenty-foot radius. One house had a whole room shocasing African safari decor complete with elephant wallpaper border and an unfortunately persistent smell of cat. We also attempted to see two bank-owned homes listed at to-die-for prices, until we actually entered the homes and realized that's probably what happened. Somebody must have died. What else could explain the torn carpet, scribbled-on walls, damaged fences, and bugs seeping through the woodwork? If Luke and I could afford a more mature down payment and about ten thousand dollars worth of up-front maintenance costs, these bad boys would be a steal. But we have babies (babies! MY GOD), who would prefer to eat more than once a day, and I am not a fan of having to purge questionable living creatures from my happy place.

The house we are going with, our first choice, is adorable. Three bedrooms, two baths, roomy, fenced-in backyard, two-car insulated garage, brand-new carpet, appliances included, and closet space galore, all in a neighorhood with one of the best school systems in the Indianapolis area. Originally we were hoping to score four bedrooms, or at least three beds and an office space, but alas, we are first-time home-buyers living on one salary, so some of those wants will have to wait until next time. First Choice will definitely meet our needs as a soon-to-be four-person family for years to come, and today on our second walk-through, I got lost thinking about raising our children there--rocking them to sleep, setting up a Christmas tree, playing tag in the yard while Luke throws hot dogs on the grill--and now I am quietly freaking out because I am too emotionally invested in this transaction. We have a price cap that we will not (cannot) negotiate, and there are two other houses to act on should this deal fall through, so I'm not worried about losing my head, but if for some reason things didn't work out, I just might pull a Sally Field circa Steel Magnolias ("I wanna know whyyyyyyyy") and consume an entire pint of Chunky Monkey in one sitting. Which may or may not be appreciated by my embryo.   

Kara is fabulous. She's been sitting on her own for months now, but yesterday was the first time she actually pulled herself into a sitting position. That made me cry, too, as did thinking about how huge I'm going to be in a few months and I won't be able to hold her on my chest like I do now and wah wah wah more ice cream please.

It's getting harder and harder to keep my lips zipped about baby number two at work. I've already told my VP, my direct supervisor, two of my work buddies, and our sales and marketing analyst. If I can make it to my June 18th ob/gyn appointment and ultrasound without tipping off the CEO, it will be a bloody miracle. And seeing as life lately is already one big miracle, I doubt I'm due for another.

It all started with jelly beans.

Luke and I were at Super Target yesterday, stocking up on important items like diapers, frozen dinners, and hand soap, when we happened to drive through the candy section, specifically the Jelly Belly section, where dozens of miniscule beans bedazzled me with their array of brilliant colors, almost like a rainbow, and suddenly I was overcome with desire for Red Apple Jelly Bellys. "I'll just have a handful every now and then," I promised as I tossed the sack into my cart. "After all, they're fat free!"

Now, at my Super Target, the candy aisle is adjacent to the potato chip aisle, and a variety of Baked Lays beckoned from their place on the end cap. "I'll just have some with lunch," I pledged as I debated between barbeque and cheddar and sour cream. "After all, they're baked!"

Famous last words.

Less than twenty-four hours later, I had consumed approximately twenty points worth of Jelly Bellys, three servings of chips, one Weight Watchers ice cream sandwich, a bowl of Cocoa Krispies, three Fig Newtons, and my weight in defiance, tired of counting points, measuring portions, and turning down a cup of milk with dinner because I'd rather spend the points on cookies (the Weight Watchers ones, of course). It didn't help that today I was home from work, which meant instant access to all things guilt-inducing and an afternoon of Beverly Hills, 90210, the first season, because it was on sale for twenty bucks. (Remind me sometime to talk about how this show has seriously warped my impression of raising teenagers; also, how Jim Walsh is pretty much, "Way to go, son, just use a rubber" with Brandon after he lays his first girlfriend but will fuhREAK out later when Brenda does the nasty with Dylan. Sexism, it is a bitch!). So for now I'm enjoying the goodies and promising to get back on the saddle tomorrow.

Binge eating aside, it's been a wonderful weekend, the highlight of which was a trip to the Indianapolis Zoo. It was Kara's first time, and our first real outside activity as a family (walks around the complex don't count), and as the three of us made our way from the parking lot to the front entrance, all I could say was, "This is what I've always wanted."

The outing was inspired in part because Indy has a few koalas on loan for the summer, so that was the first place we went. Did you know that because koalas live on eucalyptus, a food that's shockingly low in nutrition, they spend anywhere from eighteen to twenty-two hours A DAY asleep? Thus, to capture one awake and on camera was quite a feat. Way to go, Luke.

Next were the seals, where we hung for about an hour because our stop there coincided with Kara's next bottle and she was taking her sweet little time. But eventually she finished, and Luke scooped her up to give her an up-close-and-personal view, and watching them, my heart melted.

As if THAT weren't precious enough, the oceans exhibit was even better, as Kara's eyes were drawn to the brightly colored fish just inches from her nose. It was amazing to see her smile as various forms of sealife crossed her path and Luke beam with pride as he pointed out their features. He's always had a soft spot for nature and animals, so I know this trip was especially meaningful for him.

Of course, I had my turn, too, and took great delight in identifying giraffes, elephants, and monkeys, all of which we see in our favorite bedtime book.

Apparently Kara's hands were far more appealing than posing for a happy shot with Momma.

But not for Daddy!

I could eat them up, I love them both so much.

Afterwards, Luke and I spent some time watching Juno, and when it comes to that movie, I don't know what to say. The dialogue was a cross between Dawson's Creek and every Kevin Smith film I've ever seen, only less believable, but really, it was the act of watching the main characters navigate through the adoption process that brought me to tears, because I couldn't imagine my life without Kara. I felt a new kind of hurt for the moms who choose this process, for whatever reason.

The soundtrack, on the other hand? Totally awesome.

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Check out my latest post on Parents, wherein I contemplate family size.

More options than an Old Country Buffet

While I was busy debating how to address my high school reunion, surprisingly, life carried on. Here's just a sampling of what's been occupying my time:

Great Aunt Flo Watch of 2008
Geez, you might be thinking, is she really still talking about this? Hell, yes, I'm still talking about this, today is day 55 of my cycle and still not a word from that bitch Aunt Flo. I took another test when I came home from work this afternoon because my stomach felt jittery before lunch, but alas, still negative, my fourth one since Mother's Day weekend. It's not so much that I'm freaked out about maybe having children THIRTEEN MONTHS APART, HOLY CRAP, but more like dying of curiosity; however, even that attitude isn't doing me any good, so I've decided to just sit tight until I'm presented with either two pink lines or a bloodbath in my underwear. I've been cramping on and off for days, and my gut feeling is that I'm not pregnant, but my gut also told me I would deliver Kara before her due date, possibly without drugs, and we all know how that went down.

While waiting for the latest test to register, Luke jokingly asked if there was a way to jumpstart my period. "If you can speed up labor, why not this?" he said.

Indeed.

Weight Watchers
Today marks week three of Weight Watchers 2.0, and things are going...okay. I've not been as dedicated as I was the first time around, so there were several incidents involving pancakes, bacon, and chicken strips, but I've lost 4.2 pounds to date--almost two pounds since last week--and that's not a bad thing. I've really enjoyed the ability to track my eating habits and calculate Points values online; it was through the Web site that I learned one point plus one point doesn't necessarily equal two. As in, three of the Weight Watchers one-point chocolate chip cookies are five points, not three, and I'm not sure why that is, exactly, but being off by a couple of points each day definitely makes a difference on the scale. I just discovered this gem a few days ago, and my newfound knowledge is bound to make a positive impact on next week's weigh-in.

I will say that I participated in a free health risk assessment at work the other day, and baby weight aside, I'm much healthier than I originally thought. In 2005 I was diagnosed with high cholesterol, and my efforts to bring it down were half-hearted at best. I was pregnant for most of 2007, and pregnancy raises cholesterol, so it wasn't until now that I was in a position to retest. I'm happy to report that all of my levels are in the optimal or near-optimal range, and I can breathe a little easier knowing I've reduced my risk for heart disease. It was in taking that test that I realized I'm doing Weight Watchers for more than just the weight loss. I've had an effed-up mentality regarding food for years, and I want to put my best foot forward and engage in a healthier lifestyle. I want Kara to look at me and see a strong role model for making good choices about food and exercise, and I want her to think that it's easy. I don't want her to use food to get attention, like I did when I made myself throw up for three weeks in junior high. I don't want her to obsess over supposed imperfections or compare herself to peers with drastically different body types or run to food whenever she needs comfort. But if I want that for her, I have to want it for me, too. And I do.

But hot damn, do I miss my spinach dip.

It's not all bad, though. I've been doing a little more in the kitchen, and on Tuesday night I used my Take Five! cookbook, a collection of Weight Watchers recipes with only five main ingredients, to make Pita Pizzas for five points a piece. And they were delicious. Isabel, you bonafide pizza lover you, they will not disappoint. I promise.

House
After months of hemming and hawing and pouring over Excel spreadsheets to make sure we are really in a financial position to do this, Luke and I took our first major step in becoming homeowners and mailed off an application to the Indianapolis Neighborhood Housing Partnership, a non-profit that helps first-time owners secure their first house. Now, Luke and I both have excellent credit (quick shout-out to myfico.com, where we purchased our credit reports and Fico scores from all three bureaus for forty-five bucks a piece), so we don't need to go through an agency to make this happen, but the INHP has relationships with banks throughout the city that will offer loans without requiring a down payment OR private mortgage insurance to qualified buyers. Plus, I took a (free!) intro-to-home-buying class last spring that they sponsored at a local university, and it was very infomative. It certainly couldn't hurt to see what they can offer us.

Our lease on this apartment is up at the end of July, but we'll definitely need more time then that to get our act together, so the plan is to switch to a month-to-month lease and close on a property sometime in September. We won't start looking until we've been pre-approved by a lender, which should allow us to move forward relatively quickly once we've found the house of our dreams. Luke and I are beyond excited about being able to do this and STILL have someone home with Kara. I know how lucky we are and I thank God every night for it.

My Gorgeous Baby
Kara turned five months old on Saturday, and she is taking the world by storm: scooting backwards, becoming more vocal, and as of Sunday, experimenting with rice cereal. She won't entertain more than a few spoonfuls before she's pushing away the spoon, but she's extremely interested in everything on our plates, so this is a good place to start.

Plus, she looks absolutely adorable in her high chair.

She continues to hold herself up really well and can sit unsupported for about ten minutes before toppling over like a house of cards.

She's also still snacking on her fingers and toes with passionate abandon.

So, to sum up, things are going really well right now, even if I feel a little like I'm burning the candle at both ends. Work is extremely busy, and I'm helping with a baby shower for my sister Samantha in June, which means invites needed to go out like, yesterday, and writing for Parents always keeps me on my toes. (Not sure why me wanting to clean my daughter's toes from a strange dog's germs is basis for telling me to relax, as if I couldn't wait to dip her foot in bleach or something, or why not wanting my five-month-old baby to be approached by a dog I don't know means I'm afraid of all dogs all the time, but whatever.) Sure, there are times I'm afraid of passing out behind the wheel, but really, what's a good night's sleep, anyway?

I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

Eavesdropping

You guys! You'll never guess what I heard the other day...

Scene: How should I know, I'm only three months old; Momma and Daddy staring at a big black box while Momma crazily waves a hand in front of my face:

Momma: Hey, look! Twelve Angry Men is in town! You know I did that play in high school? I was the guard.

Daddy: We can go, if you want.

Momma: That would be fun. Oh, yay! I haven't seen a play in forever.

Daddy: We'll have to get a sitter, you know.

Momma: Huh?

Daddy: You know, for Kara. You can't bring a baby to a play.

Momma: Oh. Right. Nevermind.

Daddy: Did you forget we have a child?

Momma: No?

Daddy: ....

Mommy! I am the love of your life! How could you blank on my smashing good looks?

Admitting defeat

All week I've been thinking about the return of Tragic Love Friday, mainly because I've been trying to find time to write it.

On Monday, I went back to work after bawling my eyes out on Sunday night, sobbing, "I hate this, I hate this," "this" being having to go to the office all day just as Kara's starting to do more than lay on a blanket and mesmerize her father and I with her adorable, fleshy gums. Samantha was still in town, so we all had dinner together, only I could barely sit still, wanting to finish up as fast as I could so I could have the baby in my arms again but also wishing I could have another cry and wondering why my heart still hurts so much when I've been doing this for a week and a half already. I put on a happy face for Luke and my sister and spent my free time wiping down countertops and picking up toys so there wouldn't be as much mess for Luke to worry about the next day. I was already leaving him with a sinkful of dirty dishes, and as we all know, the cook should never have to clean, but by the time I finished my Parents entry, it was past ten, and I had to get into bed soon or my eyeballs would explode the next day from the lack of sleep. Thus, no TLF writing on Monday.

Tuesday wasn't any better. I had to go to the dentist because last week I bit on a raisin and felt a shooting pain in my mouth that stayed with me for a good five minutes. Only after forty-five minutes of sitting in the waiting room, flipping through the latest issue of People and staring at my cell phone, wanting to call home but not wanting the waiting room patrons to think I was one of Those Moms who couldn't even go to the damn doctor without checking in on her kid, the dentist couldn't find the source of the problem and actually asked me why I didn't bring in any raisins to demonstrate what was wrong. Another half-hour in traffic, and by then I was really charged up and barely said ten words to Luke the entire evening, in my lame-brained attempt to shield him from my bad attitude, but when I told him I wanted to pick up some more work clothes because I'm tired of trying to squeeze into tops that don't fit my belly, he asked where, and I told him, "The store," I'm pretty sure he was able to see I wasn't sunshine and roses. Was major bitch. I'm surprised I wasn't directed to the couch. No TLF.

Last night I thought about it. I'd apologized for my behavior and come home at a decent hour. I scored plenty of play time with Kara and posted a quick entry on Parents, leaving me with plenty of time to draft a chapter or two. But then Kara decided to take a nine o'clock nap before her last feeding, and she took that last nap in my arms, and all I could do was snuggle her close and sniff her head, which smelled wonderfully of Johnson's shampoo. By the time we started her bedtime routine, it was almost ten, and Luke told me I'd better get ready myself, since it appeared I'd actually have a chance to slip under the covers before eleven. I did, and I did. STILL no TLF.

This morning, before I got into the office, I set aside twenty minutes to get some writing done, with the assumption that I could continue my train of thought at lunchtime. Only it was then I remembered that I needed to find updated headshots of the actors and actresses playing each character, and it had to be done NOW because how could I post the beginning of part three without a character introduction, so I got caught up in doing that, and instead of stopping at 6:20 like I planned I stopped at 6:26, leaving me only nine minutes to pack a lunch, brush my teeth, throw on some make-up, and get out the door. I walked out the door at 6:40, just as Kara started to stir, so I hurried out as quick as I could because it's so much harder to leave when I have to say good-bye. Only when I got to my car, the windows were covered with frost. FUCK. So I let the car run and hurried back inside, where Luke was getting ready for Kara's first feed, so I changed Kara's diaper, smothering her face with kisses the whole time. Then I cursed myself out for even picking her up in the first place because of course there were tears in my eyes as I left, and then I felt bad even for that because who would pass up a chance to spend a few minutes with their baby before a long work day?

As delusional as it sounds, I contemplated doing some TLF stuff on my lunch hour, but fooling around on the computer this morning and having to let my car warm up meant I was twenty minutes late for work, and that's when I started thinking, Maybe trying to post TLF tomorrow isn't such a great idea.

Yes, it really took that long, partly because I was so excited to sink my teeth into a project that had nothing to do with work or parenting, but mostly because I've been going on about it for weeks, and I didn't want to let anyone down. I didn't want anyone to miss their TLF fix because I was "too busy" to write it, like I was this big important person with far more sophisticated ways to spend my time then work on the sequel to a story I started when I was fourteen.

But really? I am too busy to write it. To be honest, I'm barely holding it together.

I'm fully aware I put this pressure on myself. On the surface, I feel like nobody expects me to dust and vacuum every week or send baby gifts out on time, but underneath, I constantly think people are judging me, wondering why I can't shape up or get into the rhythm of things. I can't stand it when people appear to be pitying me because I have to go to work and my husband stays home. Samantha called me "noble" and I cringed, because there are so many people in harder situations, so many people with more difficult problems then going back to a job where my work is valued and well compensated. The last thing I want to do is martyr myself. On the other hand, I can't deny that my plate is too full. I'm feeling pulled in all directions. I can't keep up with the pace I've set for myself.

Something's got to give. And right now, that "thing" is this blog.

I won't be gone forever, or probably even as long as I think. I love posting and talking with all of you. This Web site has (sadly?) become a huge part of who I am. But I don't have room for it right now. My plate is too full. I want to spend time with family without scrambling to the computer every ten minutes. I want to write TLF part three without feeling like there's a gun to my head. I want to learn how to be a working mother without trying to spin every single moment into some literary masterpiece. I'm already doing that for Parents. I can't do it here.

I want to read books again. I want to comment on your blogs again. I want to join the gym and talk on the phone and refocus on my job again.

In a nutshell, I want to figure out how to enjoy my life and my new role as a working mom. I've got a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter who both amaze me every single day, and yet, somehow I've allowed the Internet to cast a shadow over both of them because I'm afraid of losing readers. I look back at Amalah's archives during her period back at work and honestly can't believe she posted as often as she did. Even during her maternity leave when she was breastfeeding all the time. I gave in to formula before we even left the hospital and I could barely manage once a week. I've re-read her entries countless times, banged my head against the proverbial wall, thinking, What the hell is my problem?!

Now I get it. My problem is not knowing when to say When. So, just for a little while, I'm finally going to say it.

See you back here soon.