Hello Summer...Here We Come

Every day it seems things are changing in both big and small ways around here. I appreciate the variations and try to maintain a consistent bit of balance and harmony as these little evolutions occur. The biggest will be when the Hubs heads out on the road for a month in a couple of weeks. Soon our days will be filled with W anticipating the arrival of the mail and trinkets sent from various cities, Skype-ing (Skyping?) and abbreviated phone calls. The Virtual Daddy will take the place of the flesh and bone version. Always a challenge, always a little heartbreaking.

We’ve decided to take W out of preschool at the end of the month, too. This will free us up for spur of the moment trips, save us some money and will really allow W and I to take on the summer full throttle…tennis lessons, swimming in the various lakes and pools, camping trips, and more time spent with family and friends. I’m already in the process of putting together a calendar of summer activities. Who knew Home Depot had free workshops for kids? Definitely on the calendar.

I’ve also taken on a little sales gig for a company called Clatterhead. I’ve got lots of flexibility and can do it from home. It’s been an opportunity to learn something new, make a little cash on the side and remain among adults in a professional environment. I’m loving the social media marketing world. So interesting, so now.

This week my event planning company was awarded a very large contract for a huge shindig to take place in 2010 (HOORAY!). Planning starts this July and I am REALLY stoked about it. Should take my company to new levels and really boost business. On my to do list next week? Get my website done!

There’s also a chance that W will have a playmate a few days a week, too. I’ve offered to care for a 13-month-old boy (for dinero, of course) and I’m thinking it will be good for W to have another warm body around, someone he can play with and entertain. He’s already suffering from “only child syndrome” and I feel this will help him cope with it.

As busy as things seem to be and as rapidly as our days are being filled with activity, I’m loving the momentum. W and I are familiar with changes, new scenery and challenges. Last summer he and I moved to Marfa for 5 months. Who knows what this summer will bring? In the meantime, we have mucho on our plates.

Onward…

Bring It On

Hello 2009. Sure am glad you’re here. I was just about fed up with 2008 already so good timing.

A photostream of some of our pics from 2008 have been added to the “W’s Work” link on the right. I couldn’t figure out how to make the 2008 pics their own little space. Oh well. BTW all of the images were taken with my iPhone. Damn thing is the shizzle.

I obviously didn’t resolve to blog everyday hence no January 1 or 2 write up so the pressure is off. I will however attempt to blog as often as possible and I’m sure there will be much to fuss about, much to applaud, and even more to drink to in the coming year. Since I’m not bringing home the bacon right now we’ve cut back on our snobby wine clubs and wine bar splurges so I’m considering stomping my own grapes in the clawfoot tub downstairs. Hell, the blackberry jelly many of you got for Christmas turned out fine, right? I do have a couple of irons in the fire though and some direction on a little personal endeavor so we’ll see how it all goes. I don’t think we’ll be in the poor house anytime soon. If it starts to look that way though will you all buy my homemade hooch? I think I’ll call it “Catherine The Grape” named after my toenail polish.

Moving Forward (And Happy Earth Day)

Well, we’ve had some nice success getting W to settle in his own bed each night after we read something like 700 books to him. It’s partly my fault since I’m also trying to wean myself from our “snuggling with the Simpson’s” routine. Each book is more time spent with the funny little love bug. He awoke the other morning minutes after 5 a.m. (yeah, I was hatin’ it) talking on and on about flying on airplanes where “they give you cookies and they give you crackers and they give you toys.” Oh, how I wished at that moment he was actually on said plane and not babbling on with the sunrise two long hours away. But I’m acclimating myself as I mentally prepare for many days of very much quality time with him when we move. I mean, I’ll secure a nanny for sure when we get there but ultimately it’s just me and him and sometimes the Hubs when he can make it out. I’m preparing a photo album for him of our house here, friends from school and family members so we can talk about them everyday. I’m putting an Art Box together for him so we can have creative time often. I envision our house off Hwy 67 covered in his genius, which is purely fitting since Marfa is an art mecca. Maybe I’ll host an art opening for W’s new friends there and they can come check out his work while sipping juice boxes, munching on Veggie Booty and listening to Of Montreal sing “I Want To Have Fun”. Yeah, we’re gonna fit right in.

Tomorrow is my last day at the office. Today my officemates surprised me with a plastic bucket filled with sunscreen, bug bite meds, baby wipes, a sewing kit, a map of Texas with the route between here and there highlighted, band aids, a flashlight with a blinking “Find Me” LED and an Us Weekly. Several things I can take off my shopping list now.

Heading out of town on Thursday to go suss out the details of our journey to come. Finally get to see the state of the job site, see the house where we will be living and finally come up with a timeline for all. Let’s get this party started already.

Hells Yeah

Well folks, you know sometimes dreams do come true.

I’ve blogged about that little speck on the map of Texas called Marfa many times, yearned to be out there and be a part of its great vastness/artiness/solitude. Well…careful what you wish for. I’ve landed a gig “managing” a campground/yurt/Spartan trailer community there this summer, a project that needs a little kick in the Toughskins so it will be up and running soon (of course, “soon” in Marfa is a relative term). The details are still being fleshed out but the plans are coming together. In the meantime, I’ve set the course to become a seasonal employee at my current place of employment (thank you, thank you, thank you) and am gently and thoughtfully unraveling our roots here to take up temporary residence there. It’s a little scary making these changes…taking W out of school for four months, cobbling together a network of toddler-friendly resources for him out there, setting up camp in the middle of nowhere…but it will be an adventure and it’s not like I’m harnessing up the mules to the covered wagon and heading west to look for gold with the fear of starvation and Indian mayhem looming on the horizon. The tot and I have a home to live in while there and the Hubs will be with us when he’s not playing shows (and with two booking agents making those calls there seems to be plenty of shows) but everyone should put this funky, fabulous part of our fair state on their radar for the summer and come see us. It’s pretty awesome there.

Chhhhh-Changes

I was completely dreading the time change but that was until I realized which direction we were changing. I had it all reversed. “Hello, blondie?” And as much as I really don’t enjoy waking up with the ass crack of dawn, this little arrangement is working quite nicely. I actually have time to move at a much needed slower pace and even get a few extra things done like put away the clothes I decide not to wear to work instead of leaving the bedroom looking like a spastic stripper blew through. I get to drink an entire cup of coffee instead of gulping the scalding caffeine I so desperately need to get me out the door. I also get to serve W breakfast twice. He’s either a growing boy or got a tapeworm at the beach.

While at the beach over the weekend with a couple of the Hubs’ family (which was a glorious break from everything I do on a daily basis…oh, how the routine punishes the spirit), it was brought to my attention that W sticks out his tongue…a lot. In fact, it was mentioned that he uses it like a tail and I have to agree. See…





























"Please bring me mah snacks on the veranda, dahling."

I Saw It Before It Was There

Last Wednesday, I was drinking sake in Marfa. That Thursday, I cured a slight hangover by building a Mongolian yurt. On Friday, my bottom lip looked like a botched botox treatment courtesy of the West Texas altitude and sun. Saturday, I was rockin' and rollin' with the guests of El Cosmico and Sunday we put the whole thing to bed. Monday, my travel companion and I filled up with on a heavy duty country breakfast in Ft. Davis and promptly sank to the bottom of Balmorrhea Springs upon impact.

This is the last 5 days in brief. We were hired to work this amazing event. What a time. Here it is in pictures.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7852978@N08/sets/72157602138131992/?page=2

More to come…

Here We Are!

Well, here we are again and darn it, it’s good to be back. I had seriously considered abandoning this blog once and for all but me mind has changed. I thought about how great it is to read someone else’s blog and relate to what they are saying or realize that I’m not the worst parent on the planet at times and decided, I, too, must continue to air out the dirty laundry of childrearing on my end of the street. Besides, W needs to understand why he’s in therapy for life.

It is with boastful parenting pride that I can report that we, as a family of three, traveled for 7 straight weeks together this summer without one maimed limb or the filing of divorce papers. There were several bruised egos but that’s about it. I should also mention that 5 of those weeks were spent traveling in a car the size of a go cart…with a nearly 2-year-old…because it had a GPS and good gas mileage but I would’ve given my last glass of wine on earth to have had a bit more room to sleep/eat/read/stretch out while cruising down the endless highway. We had fun though. W is now qualified to work either at Sea World or an airport. All of the beach and airline time has made him employable. As I play catch up here on this site, I’ll highlight the hilarious and the horrible details of our summer.

W and I flew home on the 5th of this month. Several days later while in the throes of decompression and jet lag, W started back to school, in the bigger kids class, the one where he is required to bring his own lunch box and can’t have his binkie (as a result of so much travel, W became very attached to his paci and blankie so much so that the Hubs said if he went missing, the photo we’d submit to the police would have to include one), the one where the bigger boys say things like, “I’m not a baby’s friend, I’m a big kid’s friend.” They tower over him like giants. His small frame is swallowed by the plastic chairs in his classroom. My little shrimp is growing up and, as usual, I have mixed feelings about all of this.

Here are some shots of the trip out west.

Lost In America

Wild week. I haven’t been able to get it together to blog. I’m on my last day of a four-day event cycle. Indiana Jones theme…skeletons, treasure chests, rubber snakes, rope bridges. This is also my last day at work for two months. I am dancing in my shoes to get out of here. My desk is cleared, boxes packed. The office is relocating while I’m away. I wanted to make the transition easier for all by hauling out my stuff and returning with it in mid-August. I’ll probably get shafted on where my new desk will end up living but right now I don’t care. I’ll deal with that later. Much later. We’re headed to the beach tomorrow morning, W and I. We’ve been reading books about the beach to get him familiar with the idea. He hasn’t been since he was this small and just learning to walk.




Now it’s all he can talk about. CaCa and her family are joining us. W was saying this morning on the way to school, “CaCa beach, yeaaaaaaaaaay!” Yeay is right, kiddo.

His last day at school is next Tuesday. I’m feeling the bittersweet sadness of it already. So are his teachers. He’ll be back later in the summer but it’s like splitting up a family. They’ll miss him and vice versa. On a somewhat related note, last Friday W came home from school with two bite marks on his little arm. His teachers didn’t mention anything about it so I asked W what happened. I asked, “Who bit you?” and pointed to the offending red circles. “Isbabell,” he replied. I talked with him about biting being bad and how it hurts our bodies and our friend’s bodies and so forth. I kissed the wounds and we went on our merry way. Several times during the weekend W pointed to the marks and said “Isbabell.” I reminded him that biting wasn’t a nice thing to do, blah, blah, blah. By the end of the weekend, he was pointing at every mosquito bite, scab and bruise on his person and blaming them all on little Isabel. He was obviously getting carried away at incriminating her and I tried to set the record straight but, damn, it was funny.

So the Hubs has sold his soul to Tony Robbins. I know, I know…awaken the giant within and all that voodoo is bunk to many but I’m telling y’all, this stuff has some super-duper powers. See, the Hubs has been dealing with some mighty big issues, decisions, demons, and such. He needed someone unbiased to assist him in making some very important choices and that someone was definitely not his biased wife. So he plunked down a hearty wad of dough and got himself a life coach. They talk every three weeks, just enough time for him to get some assigned homework on himself done. Y’all, I’m not kidding, the first time he talked to his coach things started happening right away, good things, offers, invitations, opportunities. It's like there was some unspoken barrier in our world and it's been removed. And they keep coming and now I’m getting excited because I can see the wheels of change happening for us. It’s freaky and awesome and I'm stoked to see what happens next.

Summertime, here we come.

Fun, Fun, Family Fun!

Holy hell! Where have I been? We did an event yesterday in Georgetown so Monday and yesterday were all consumed with those details. The weekend was packed full of family time and almost in the “that is too much quality time” sorta way.

Saturday, we packed up the car and headed out of town to see the Hubs perform. Baby and I totally rocked out. It was the first show W had seen the Hubs play with this particular band and the kid fell into the groove like he was a roadie or something. I worried that he wouldn’t wear his ginormo 70’s style safety headphones to keep the volume turned down in his little ears but he wore them like a champ. He yelled, “Daddie, dittar!” and “Yeayyyyyy!” and high fived the sound guy like they toured together in a past life or something. Bling Bling drove in with her fab son to catch the show. We got shunted up into the balcony seats for a private perspective of the show. That’s always a good thing b/c most of the fans are weirrrrrrrd. I handed W over to Bling and he immediately passed out in her comfy, warm arms.

Our room happened to be the awesome grand suite of this old, haunted hotel and it was totally paid for by the promoter. After the show, I turned in with a sleepy baby in my arms. As I wrestled for the key to unlock the door, a girl came up behind me, her energy a bit charged in the negative direction. I said hello and the smirk on her face barely unfolded as she replied with a “Hey.” As she entered her room I heard her yell out, “This is NOT the grand suite. This is a petite suite and I swear…” and her voice drifted off as she slammed the door. She was part of a wedding party and obviously not happy with her lodging situation. I grinned to myself as I stepped in and locked the door behind. It’s cool to be a rock star’s wife, oh yes it is.

Everyone slept late the next morning, a clear indication to me that the Hubs had partied pretty late and W was getting sick. Check and check. We had plans to meet Gogo and Richard at the zoo and when we got there, the place was just coming alive. We made a beeline to see the monkeys to avoid a later crowd crush and the idea paid off hugely. As we approached the habitat for the silverback gorilla, we saw the male sitting all alone in a clearing sunning himself. He saw us and lumbered very slowly over on all fours and rested his massive frame against the 4 inches of glass that separated us. We all got down to his level and were truly awestruck by his brilliance, size and beauty. He splayed out like an Amazonian ruler waiting for someone to peel him a banana. His eyes looked at us unconcerned and calm. We all silently took in the moment until a family came along and the gorilla rose and walked away. The Hubs and I were very moved by the encounter but it also made us very sad for him and the plight of his diminishing species.

We ran amok for a few hours, dodging the clusters of gawkers and eating really bad food. It was crucial to our plan to make sure the departure home revolved around W's naptime and to make it back in time to hook up with some friends for paella, vino and toddler rompin’. We arrived a tad late but totally enjoyed the visit at their lovely home. We cherish CaCa and her parents and look forward to much more commingling.

P.S. As I assumed W is illin’ again, another bi-monthly germ warfare courtesy of his school, the Growing Spore. He had to come home early Monday but hopefully he can return tomorrow or the Hubs is going to divorce us.

Hubs

W and I went to Fredericksburg to see Pop Pop, Wella and W's aunt and uncle over the weekend. It's a lovely and quick drive out, an hour and half of Elmo on the laptop and before you know it, we're there. As you can see, W was completely worn out by the good times. He was so tired, he put his paci in backwards and conked right out in his car seat...





















W sending an email to his daddy who is still in Italy. He misses you and so do I.

Say Yeah!

I awoke to the sweetness of normalcy this morning. The Hubs was flopped on my side of the bed, the birds were practically sitting on our windowsill singing directly in to our bedroom and W was shouting “Mahma! Mahma!” from his crib downstairs. Earlier in the week I was holed up with baby in the guest bed delirious with fatigue and fear as he fought his horrible viruses. Those were turbulent nights/days/hours/minutes, my friends, but all is well now.

After the Hubs climbed into the taxi this morning and headed to the airport, (an event that thrilled the diapers off of W, I mean, a real taxi was at the front door!) I finished the morning routine of getting us dressed and headed out the door. Behind our house is what used to be our studio/guest/rehearsal space/doghouse for the Hubs. It’s now been rented by a friend of mine who is quickly becoming a friend of W’s. While I was upstairs getting the last of our things together, I heard W's friendly little voice call out from the balcony, “Hi Hee-ewe!” as H was leaving for work. This is a first since W usually runs in the other direction when he comes through the back gate. As charming as the moment seemed, I flashed forward to a vision of a modern day Dennis the Menace bothering Mr. Wilson. I already have to keep him from looking in his windows like a minature Peeping Tom. There could be a rental discount in H's future.

Lovely weekend ahead. A good friend from back home is coming to spend the weekend with us. I’ve also secured a sitter for tomorrow night so I can be “just me” with my friends for a few hours and no one's mama or spouse. I got a manicure this morning after dropping W at school just to feel extra feminine and sassy but it took all of my wits to stay awake throughout. Still pretty frayed around the edges and I think I'm feeling something suspiciously tickly in my throat but I'm sure I can beat it with lots of vitamin C and vino. It’s been a very long and spooky week but, thankfully, we made it through and the weekend is looking really good.

Clap Your Hands

Thank you to everyone who commented on my last post or wrote to me directly. W is doing much better today which means he wanted macaroni and cheese for breakfast, danced on the bar to the Arcade Fire and asked to “Whash paci?” when I was at the sink doing my makeup before work. While we were enduring the worst moments of the illnesses, all I could do was wonder how other parents did it, too. Single parents, those with several children, or those without much money. My heart went out to them in understanding and empathy. You have to walk a mile in someone’s shoes to get it, huh? I do know that as a parent something inside of you kicks in, a tremendous will, a determination to fight for whatever your child needs at all cost, and you just do it. You stay up all night every night, you cuddle for hours on end, you respond to every whimper, and you try to keep serenity in the home despite the unfamiliar horror of it all. And then you cry with relief in the shower when it’s all finally over. I never thought I’d be taking my son to the ER at nineteen months of age but I am so grateful it wasn’t more serious than it was.

The Hubs leaves on a trip in the morning to Italy for 12 days and returns on my birthday. I am green with envy but more happy that he has the opportunity to go song write in such an amazing place. This is what he should be doing and it’s been a long time coming. Bring us home a number one single, darling.

Spring Flinger

I’ve had to take a couple of days to get my blogging brain back on course. It had been brought to my attention that I had offended a few family members with something I had written a while back and for that, I am regretful. Since I write for my own self-absorbed pleasure, I have a tendency to forget there is an audience out there and that this blog serves as a channel of familial info for some of its readers. And speaking of readers, did you know I know who you are? Thanks to certain Big Brother aspects of blogging, I am able to see where you live. What’s so amazing about this is I’m able to note that some readers are from across the pond, in Canada, and several in California, among other places. Truly awesome.

Life has been going at a clip and spring is spreading out before us like a huge welcome mat. I anxiously await the warmer days to swim in icy cold pools with W, slurp juicy raspas in the park and visit with friends over tangy, homemade margaritas. The trees have suddenly burst with brand new bright green leaves and the length of the grass in our yard has doubled in length after being dormant over the winter. Last night, we grilled salmon and asparagus on the patio (well, not literally ON the patio). W and the Hubs played ball or what really translates to W running willy-nilly, laughing wildly, and throwing the ball directly behind his petite frame. We sipped white wine, smooched and gave thanks for all that we have. And we meant it.

I received news last night that my boss has graciously given me two months off this summer, totally unpaid, but off nonetheless. I did six backhand springs and two toe touches in slow motion when I got the email. What does this mean? Ohhhhh, so many things! It means W and I can go see family and really start building a foundation for his roots to take hold, to know where he comes from. First order of business is to get to Kentucky to see my brother and his family (this means a night or two in Nashville, Wendielu!). They live on the edge of a beautiful pond perfect for fishing and swimming. There are horses to ride just down the road. His two toe headed daughters flank W in age, one is a tad older and one is a bit younger. Perfect ages to torment him as little girls can. Here they are…














The Hubs is off this evening and tomorrow night opening for the Old 97’s. If you’re in Houston tonight, go see ‘em. If you’re in Austin tomorrow night go see ‘em at Stubb’s. Buy some merch, drink a few and enjoy yourself.

Dramatic W

Commited

A sickly sweet stench fills my truck. I can smell it each time I climb in. It’s origin is a mystery but I’m sure W has something to do with it…discarded fruit roll up, half emptied apple juice box, baggie of orange slices stuffed in a crease in the seat. Must dig around before it evolves into a homemade penicillin specimen.

Communication with the sprout has been so delightful lately. Seems like just overnight his infantile babbling has shifted to subject-verb or subject-direct object with real meaning and desire. “Larder (water), pwease.” “Hep up!” “Mumma big truck.” “Raycar fast, varoooom!” The other evening I was enjoying some soup that the Hubs had made earlier in the day and I was telling W that it was hot soup, yummy soup, that Dada made the soup, etc. W chimed in saying “Soup hot. Hot soup. Mama soup. Hot mama. Hot mama.” Fantastic!

Lately I’ve been more torn than usual between my responsibility to my job and to my son. I think all working moms go through this. It might have more to do with the longer daylight hours, that childhood sense that school will be out for the summer, and wanting to climb into a car or plane and go away with the family for a long while. Realistically though I feel like I’m missing out on so many small things that he’s doing now in leaps and bounds. Everything he does is like receiving a little gift, each one different and unique from the other. I want to be there for as much of it as possible. His teachers are the main recipients of said gifts and although they love and adore him, he’s not their child so they don’t reel with wonder and amazement at his small feats. Tearing myself away from him each morning is still just as heartbreaking as it was the first time I took him to daycare except now he says my name and runs to attach himself to my legs like a baby octopus or just flops in defeat into the lap of Miss Amy and sobs. In the mornings, I can hear his little voice calling out my name like an urgent request. He immediately heads upstairs to find me getting dressed for work. The sight of me is a relief to him. I can see it in his lit up expression but I hate knowing that his lovely squinty-eyed smile will soon be replaced with tears.

Then there’s the other side of the coin, the one that makes me wonder if I could actually spend all that time at home and surrender my professional self…and sanity. I go stir crazy when I don’t have projects of some magnitude on my plate. There’s only so many weeds, so much laundry, grocery shopping, tiding up and isolation one can experience before the mommy madness sets in.

I guess I’m looking for some flexibility but what I want to ask for I need to be committed to like a religion to make it work. It’s all a balancing act, a very complicated and stressful balancing act.

Running Away From Home

The post-conference recovery has been slow and, thankfully, so have things at the office. We’re playing catch up, billing clients for onsite add ons and trying to figure out which end is our ass and which is our brains. It’s all mush to me (sorry for the mental visual).

W has resumed being totally mommy-centric much to the Hubs' dismay. I heard him mention to W this morning how bummed he was about playing second fiddle now that I’m around. It’s not fair but you can’t argue with a toddler. I get out of eyeshot and W immediately hollers out “Muma?” and goes racing around like a displaced pup. It’s endearing and unnerving at the same time. Last night, the little worm wouldn’t go to sleep so I stuck him in bed with me only to be tortured by his wiggling around and kicking. I made use of the tiny swinging heels by turning my back and letting him pound away. He eventually dozed off but I was left to wonder how other families actually spend entire nights sharing their beds with little people. W flips and flops like a huge mosquito larva and sometimes his giant noggin’ connected with mine. Speaking of melon heads, the doc told us Tuesday that he’s 50% for height, 10% in weight, and 90 for his cabeza grande. We may need those lead shoes I mentioned a while back before too long.

W’s greatest parental weapon to date is saying “Pwease” when he wants something. Works like a charm as we can’t resist the sweetness of the plead. As a result, he’s gotten a squishy car that wasn’t worth the $8, completely soaked himself playing with the water hose fully clothed, played in my truck for at least an hour, and buckets of yogurt. It could be worse, I guess.

Tonight is date night. We're skipping out on the Four Seasons company dinner and spending time with the parents of CaCa (as W calls her) from W's school instead. I have hung out with CaCa's mom only once before and it was awesome. We were the duo sitting at Sesame Street Live with our tots in our laps while sharing red vino out of a large sippy cup. Go ahead, nominate us for Mommy of the Year.

Tomorrow, a girlfriend from SXSW and I are heading to Marfa for 4 days for much needed R n R (that’s definitely NOT rock n roll). I’m leaving the boys behind this trip. There would be no way I could fully recover with both of them in my orbit. I’m taking the computer so the daily blogging will continue. I need the Rx.

Nurse Nurse No More

A weekend in LA was exactly what I needed more than I could’ve ever imagined. After many days of ice, rain, cabin fever, not to mention16 months of raising W, a flight headed west to hook up with the Hubs couldn’t have come at a better time. Like a CODA candidate, I sat by myself at the airport coffee shop wrestling with feelings of child abandonment and unwelcomed inactivity. I imagined my son’s busy little body running between the tables and chairs of the groggy coffee campers awaiting their flights. I missed his energy and smiles already. He would be in the safe arms of his Gogo at the end of the day and I really had nothing to worry about. It was our first time apart with great distance in between and I wasn’t dealing with it too well. It probably didn’t help that I was reading Alternadad by Neal Pollack, a hilariously raw writer whose blog I read on a regular basis. The chapters were filled with the trials and tribulations of raising a youngin’ and many things hit home. On the plane, I sped through the pages, Bloody Mary in hand. No one sat on my row. I was completely alone and was quickly beginning to love it.

Laurie plucked me from the airport and we caught up on the details of her life…filmmaking, dating, living in LA and missing Austin... while we drove to Santa Monica. She took the scenic route to the beach (translation: sorta lost), which she apologized for, but I completely enjoyed the extra girlie time. We met the Hubs poolside at the hotel and dined on overpriced nibbles while soaking up sunshine. It was wonderfully warm and somewhere other than home. In a word…awesome.

That evening Laurie and I went to see the Hubs play at the Mint. They opened for the kick ass band, the Mother Truckers. I barely made it to the end of the Small Stars set before I was begging a cabbie to drive me back to the hotel as fast as he could. I had been feeling nauseous and it wasn’t letting up. Work-related stress, fatigue (of course W had to get up at 5:30 a.m. this morning…3:30 a.m. LA time), and the anxiety of leaving W behind had caught up with me. I barely made it to the hotel room before arfing in the loo. I curled up in bed in the fetal position and passed out with relief.

Saturday the Hubs and I walked down to the beach for some breakfast. He rented roller blades and I chose to sit on my duff and chill. Dolphins swam in the distance, surfers negotiated small waves and sailboats silently outlined the horizon. A sense of complete calmness easily washed over me, an unfamiliar sensation in the hustle bustle world of parenting, event planning, penny pinching and so forth. I wanted to just sink into the sand and disappear. Bliss.

We attended an amazing private party at a recording studio that evening. The Small Stars knocked the soiree out of the park. Guy Fantasy made every off color joke about LA that he could and made some new friends despite his salty rants. Jackson Brown was there. So was Lisa Loeb. The guy who wrote “Let’s Get Physical” was there, too. We mingled our minglers off and headed back to the hotel. We had an 8 a.m. lobby call. Yuck.

When we got home, W had just gone down for a nap so of course I woke him up. He looked at me squinty-eyed as if to say “Oh yeah, you’ve been missing, haven’t you?” When he finally came to, he repeated “Mama” over and over again and pointed at my face. It was so heart-warming. The rest of the evening was “Mama, Dada, Mama, Dada,” as if he had just learned how to say it. We could’ve eaten him with a spoon. I was concerned about how the next morning would go. In the past, that was the nursing hour. Leaving him for the weekend was dubbed “Project Cold Turkey” and, surprisingly, it worked. After retrieving him from a cozy night’s sleep the next day, we sat on the couch in preparation for “Melmo’s Wurd” as W calls it. He looked at my boobs and patted one of them as if to say “Thanks for all of the good times, old buddy, but your work here is done.” He then turned to watch his show and that was the end of that. 16.5 months later and the nursing is over. My nips are mine again! And the angels sang.

I’m back to the wildest time of year at work and it’s the best we can do to maintain a safe level of sanity that still borders on manic. The postings will be sporadic but I will do my best to get something in here daily.

Onward!