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…

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.

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.

Oh Little Man

(This is an entry to W, for W, about W so read on if you can stand the syrupy sentiments.)

Oh, kiddo…

Lately we’ve been spending big chunks of time together while the Hubs is away and it’s been pretty awesome. At times, I do find myself mentally mixing every cocktail imaginable when I have to tame your more spirited moments and I’m at my wits end of things but on the whole you’re pretty wonderful.

The other night I was curious to see how late you could stay up and, man, did I pay the price. I snuggled you into my bed thinking it would be so nice to have you fall asleep in my arms like you do when you’re ill, all cuddly and warm. This turned out to be a very bad idea and finally had to drag your flippity-floppity buns downstairs to your own room at 11:35 p.m. You won, son. You are your father’s child, oh keeper of rock star hours. I should’ve known. There are times though when we are watching Wonder Pets or Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch something or other on the couch together and you grab my arm and wrap it around your neck like a mink stole. You have no idea how happy that makes me.

You’re full of information, tons of information with details and details of those details. Sometimes you share this knowledge in a language you are cultivating on your own and you sprinkle in bits of the English language, kinda like our new cleaning lady who speaks both English and Spanish simultaneously…“I cleaned the bathroom pero no mas cleaner for the tub, o.k?” The best is when you pretend to talk on my cell phone like an attorney making a deal for a very guilty client you're representing. You wring your hands and wave them in the air like you’re stating some very pertinent facts. The best is when you pause like you’re listening to the other party talk for a moment. So real.

I’m wondering though if you’re ever going to be okay with taking a bath again. You unwillingly charge in there like I’ve got a cattle prod poking your arse when I tell you it’s bath time. Tears stream down your cheeks as we undress you. You immediately start saying and signing “All done!” as soon as your toes touch the water. Try as I may, I can’t get you interested in the hundreds of toys floating and sinking in there so we just wash up really fast and get you out of there quick. You like to look at yourself in the mirror while you cry as I bundle you in your towel. Talk about drama.

Lately you’ve been sitting at the piano and playing it with your left hand while shaking the blue egg shaker in the other. Throw in some jibber-jabber sing song stuff and I’m front and center at my own little concert, a peek in to things (and groupies) to come. This morning on our way to school you were singing Old MacDonald so loudly you’re little voice was cracking. I could barely drive I was laughing so hard. You are quite the entertainer/dramatic artist, my sweet child and you get it honest.















Besos,
Mama

And for your viewing pleasure...

Wunnerful Weekend

Me and W, our weekend was stuffed like a Chicago style pizza. Right after school on Friday we headed to our neighborhood cement pond for our first dip of the summer-to-be. Freakin’ cold, as to be expected, and W cried the whole time except when I pointed at imaginary fish in the water. A little girl was making a game of getting out of the pool and jumping back into the water. Every time she did and the droplets landed on W’s skin, he’d shriek like acid was being throw on him. We lasted about 10 whole minutes. We ended the evening at Central Market to watch a friend’s husband bang on the drums. I eagerly purchased a refreshing glass of white wine, a well deserved beverage after a hard week of solo parenting and work at the orifice, and planted myself, ready to take in the surroundings. I then proceeded to dump the whole glass of nectar into my friend’s purse, just bumped it into the crevasses of the table. She said she’d drink it later. I was too ticked to brave the line and get another.

Saturday we joined the motorcycling masses and headed to the hill country for an overnighter with Pop Pop and family. My wonderful Aunt Ginna from Oatmeal (yes, there is such a place and it’s lovely) came down for the fun, too. The wildflowers along the way were in Technicolor! We had a grand time grilling out (be sure and mix some parmesan cheese, fresh lime juice, S & P with butter, rechill and then slather it on grilled corn on the cob…hell yeah!), swilling vino and getting caught up. Wella gave W a battery operated, hand held bubble blower so we spent hours on the back patio framed in scenes from the Lawerence Welk show. On Sunday morning, a few of us went here. I could drop some serious cash in that place but made it out relatively unscathed.

We ended the long, wonderful weekend by sitting on the front porch and watching it rain droplets the size of silver dollars. They smacked the pavement like wads of wet toilet paper. Lightning lit up the sky followed by the thunder and W and I enjoyed every minute of it. If the Hubs had been home, he would’ve been hidden safely inside the house but I want to make sure that W isn’t afraid of the storms and marvels at their beauty the way I do.

I promise to post some pics soon. We got a new camera but the Hubs keeps running off with it every time he leaves town.

Weekend Rewind

Friday I was feeling like H-E double L so after work, I faked happy, healthy mommyland with W and as soon as his tush was in the crib, I was curled up in bed reading this. Now earlier in the day, I had read about this book on this blog. Amazon.com had awesome reviews about it so I had to get the darn thing stat. As luck would have it, I found it on the shelf at Half Price Books that same day for $9 bones. Score! Now, like I had mentioned I was feeling pretty effing sick at the end of the day and had grand notions of getting some major Zs but when I cracked the spine of this little gem and launched into the first few pages, I was hooked. I am not a reader of the thriller or horror genre but this one had me by the gonads right off. I barreled through the first 15 chapters and, with tired eyes and midnight posted on the clock, I finally decided to turn out the light but was actually too spooked to fall asleep. Remember, the Hubs is still out of town. I clicked the light back on and read another 5. I finished it in broad daylight the next morning. Whew! What a ride! I can’t wait for the movie!

Saturday night, I took myself out for dinner and drinks. I told myself I looked great, picked myself up at 8 p.m. and told myself I was going to have a good time. Me, myself and I ate here where a dear old girlfriend of mine works. When she’s on the floor, I put myself on autopilot and let her do the wine choosing and plate ordering. She delivered wild greens, rabbit and duck to my little spot at the bar and paired them with varied grapes from around the globe. We were chatting away, talking about all sorts of personal things within earshot of everyone in the cozy space. During that time another girlfriend came in with her husband and another gentleman, both of them Brits. We all hunkered down together for some lovely conversation, or should I say, I struggled to understand what they were saying and did a lot of nodding. Turned out, the guy to my left was the road manager/sound dude for Joseph Arthur who was playing later that night. Yeay! After dinner, we all hiked on down to the venue and totally enjoyed the show. It’s been ages since I have flown by the seat of my pants like that and doing it solo was quite refreshing. Needless to say, I awoke in a little fog the next morning but when you've got a kiddo in your orbit, it’s always show time so I got my arse up and took him to school. That’s right, the Growing Spore had childcare on Mother’s Day. I had 5 glorious hours to do whatever the hell I wanted. Days prior I had designs on getting a manicure/pedicure, a massage, my truck cleaned and maybe even squeeze in a movie but instead went back home, took a 2-hour nap, had a crappy lunch at a non-descript Mexican joint and got some shopping therapy at my favorite store, Last Call. When I returned to get W, he was still napping, in the land of nod, 3 whole hours of nap. $35 worth of nap.

The Hubs returns tonight and he’ll be home for 3 whole days! After that he’ll be home for a week and a half. ‘Tis the life of the musical and parental.

Just Blogging Along

I just ordered myself a Mother’s Day gift from RedEnvelope.com. Oh yes, I did. I even wrote out the message on the card, too…”Happy Belated Mother’s Day! Love, the Hubs.” I’m sparing him the embarrassment of forgetting such a meaningful and honorable day. Besides, he’s going to be out of town. I’m also getting something I want, a lovely pair of earrings and a necklace to match. All under $61.00. Before shipping.

I took my wilted flower of a son to school today. I tried to ramp his enthusiasm by outdoing myself in the “front seat dancing while driving and singing about school” department. Other drivers think I’m off my rocker. It worked and the school hasn’t called yet to tell us to come get him. He is feeling much better which is a relief. It breaks my heart in a million pieces to see him weak with sickness. Makes it tough for the Hubs and I to get along in the midst as well. He’s got deadlines and work to do, I have an office to report to and it completely stresses us inside and out. It was finals week at area colleges so no last minute students-for-hire could be found. I wonder what other families do when faced with this? I'm looking forward to using the two months I’ll be off this summer to determine if my child is naturally this sick or if school is the culprit. Then we will be able to figure out a better plan of action…different school? Stay-at-home help? Stay-at-home mom? All I know is I really need the Hubs out there writing music and finding artists to sing them and not hanging around the house with a sick child. I’m ready for that ranch/beach house already.

The Hubs is off tomorrow for several days playing gigs so if you’re in Dallas, Lubbock or Los Alamos, New Mexico (huh?) then go see him/them. Also, if anyone is free Saturday night and would like to join me for dinner, I have a dateless date night scheduled. Although I don’t mind drinking alone…like I do…in the closet…several times a week.

Older and Tireder

Yesterday I was feeling really sick but stuck it out here at the office, which was a good thing because there was a surprise birthday cake waiting for me at the mothership. I was too nauseous to eat a slice but wrapped one up for later. I came home with W and laid on the couch in abdominal agony. I could tell W knew something was up because he was especially good and content to watch TV and engage in some lo-fi activities. As soon as I got his tiny buns out of the tub and in to bed, I crawled between the sheets all shivery and tired. I was hoping to get at least 10 hours of sleep but W summoned my presence at 5:45 a.m. this morning. I continued to remain horizontal while he inhaled two huge bowls of oatmeal (and I’m not talking the watery, soggy instant stuff, I’m talking the “takes 20 minutes to cook and will pack you out for like two days” kinda stuff) and then we got off to school. He was in a good mood and ready to take on the infant room. I put his groceries away (seriously, it’s like unpacking enough nosh for a college student) as he jumped in to play pretend cook or chef or bossy bachelor with his buddies. As I headed out, I said, “I gotta go to work W. Bye!” and he said, “BYE!” with great earnest and then I said, “I love you!” and he said it right back in front of two teachers and a mom. “I wub ewe.” There was a simultaneous “Awwwww” and I got in my truck totally teary-eyed and thankful for such a beautiful child. Best. Birthday. Present. Ever.

The Hubs comes home tonight. Finally. It’s been twelve days and twelve nights of just me and W. We’ve bonded like 17 times already. Time to share some of the love with the Hubs.

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

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!

Queen For About Six Hours

Willem woke up at 4:30 this morning and I just slid the upstairs door closed and crawled back in to bed with a guilty conscience. I just couldn’t deal with the super early a.m. drama...and it made me feel like a crappy mom. He seemed unscathed when I got him out of bed at 7 a.m. except he was pounding on his aquarium like a crazy person, his toys were tossed out of the crib and his PJ bottoms were off. I removed him from his own private hell and the morning routine began.

The Hubs returned from his trip to the land of saline and botox Saturday night and I can’t even remember what we did that night because yesterday ruled like winning the lottery. After spending so much time with W and catching his cold which made me feel like H-E-double L, I really felt like our little relationship was being compromised. We were seriously tired of each other. I handed him off like Peyton Manning to his daddy and headed out with no real destination in mind but here’s how my lottery-like day played out…

-Solo brunch at El Chile with a thigh high boot sized Bloody Mary (okay, I kid, I kid, it wasn't that big).
-$35 manicure/pedicure at Nails of America. No more cheap looking french manicure courtesy of Desitin under my nails. They were showing the movie Click.
-Shopped for shampoo, conditioner, and reading glasses (yes, my vision is finally going).
-Met Holly, the artist and confidant, for a movie and we went to see The Departed. It was great but I’m deaf in both ears from all of the gunfire.

And then I went home and rounded up the boys for some punk rock pizza at the Parlor. Mama was feelin’ fine. Later we watched a DVR’d version of The Last Days of The San Jose directed by our friend Liz Lambert. Great documentary but we can’t help but wonder how she got the rights to some of the songs in the film. Must investigate.

Willem is going to be a Flesh Eating Monster for Halloween..."I eat your face."
















Can you say "Bath time?"...

He Who Wears Me Out

I pissed off my little drama king this morning by changing his clothes again before we left for school. He was already in an emotional state and the switching of his mismatched outfit was the straw that broke his baby camel’s back but I had to. It was cold out. C-O-L-D. So I dressed him in a warmer mismatched version and dropped his fussy self at school. The past two mornings (the Hubs has been out of town since Wed.), W has awoken at 5:22 a.m. (Thursday a.m.) and 2:27 a.m. (today). I have tried to thwart his ribcage rattling cough with meds but the situation persists. It’s hard on the little guy and, consequently, hard on momma. This restlessness has been going on a week now. We roam the house in the dark as I try to console his spirit and encourage sleep again. Memories of his early days on this planet come tumbling back. Oh, how I don’t miss those sleepless nights but here we are again. Two nights ago, I ended up on the couch and W finished the night on his miniature sofa. Last night, after much rocking and back patting, we collapsed on the couch together. It’s amazing how such a small person can take up so much space. Add to that the mutual fatigue, the perpetual crankiness, the “I will cry like you are beating me if you put me down” mood, and the “the water feels like acid on my skin” at bath time spectacle and it makes for some exhausting mornings and evenings during the work week. TGIF. When the Hubs returns tomorrow, I’m making the baby hand off and checking in to a hotel…or an asylum. Wherever I can get some uninterrupted sleep.

Hump Day

One nice thing about the husband going out of town is that I can do things I would never do with him around. For example, I haven't made the bed since he left. It has remained a nest of pillows with a hole carved out for my perpetual fetal position and my basketball belly. I have left dishes in the sink for days. Many of them I didn't know existed because they were buried in the very back of the cabinet. I have also been able to turn the TV on in the morning when I wake up and listen to the chatter of talking heads as I spend the time necessary to dig myself out of my nest. This morning, I turned the channel to Regis & Kelly, a show I have never been fond of but I usually get sucked in to and it's all Kelly's fault. Regis is rather predictable in his on screen banter but Kelly shoots from the hip, is reckless, slightly daring, and sometimes, very amusing. Today, she talked about the padded bra she was wearing under her skimpy pink tank top. I, too, am normally endowed with your average B-cup (but thanks to the wonders of growing a person in a person, you get a nice set of ta-tas for a quite a while...right now I'm shooting for a D-cup!) and was completely riveted by her confession of what her boobs looked like post nursing 3 children. As she described them, I kept thinking of yams in socks, sand in socks, soggy socks, things of this nature hanging from her tiny chest...AND I WAS HORRIFIED! So what's a girl to do to avoid this fate? Any suggestions, my friendly internet voyeurs? Further research must be done! My husband is a boob man (sorry, honey, but we both know it's true) so this is of grave concern to me. Jessica Alba, some actress that has come out of nowhere and is suddenly everywhere was a guest on the show. Among many covers of magazines her lovely figure has graced this month, one of them is Rolling Stone. It is impossible to overlook her lovely youthful cleavage but dammit if she didn't reassure Kelly that she was wearing shoulder pads in her bra to prop them up! *GASP!* And she's in her early twenties! I almost started clapping with glee! But then I realized what time it was and needed to get my buns, belly, and boobs out of bed and get ready for work.

Flying Solo

Eleven weeks and counting. Junebug will make his or her arrival in eleven short weeks. Am I ready? You bet! Am I prepared? Not in the least. Our house is without walls, floors, countertops and just about everything. A network of wires, plumbing and support beams are crudely exposed like a trauma patient on an operating table. When are the contractors gonna sew this project up? It's been rather quiet over there, too. Something about awaiting permits. My baby isn't going to wait on any permits before it arrives on the scene and all I know is, in eleven weeks, I better be perched in my new bed, in my new bedroom, in my new house with Junebug on one arm and my man on the other.

My husband is gone for the week to write songs in Nashville with country artists. This sort of trip is so far removed from his womanizing, misogynistic "Guy Fantasy" persona. I wonder if it will be difficult for him to switch creative gears so he can write those sappy "Honey, I love you and the kids and America" songs. I imagine him sitting in a room with some God-fearing, meat & three snacking, oversized (and successful) Nashville songwriter pondering a line to follow...

"When you walked away, baby
I knew that kinda love
was sent by the good Lord
from the heavens above..."

Guy's next line would most likely be...

"but my God is whiskey
in the jigger in my hand
and when it's empty I'll go join the band
at the edge of the stage, right next to the pole
where I can catch a glimpse of Bunny's sexy mole..."

Hee, hee.

I join him in a week and we'll drive to Kentucky to visit family for the Fourth of July. I'm thrilled about the trip but not the impending meals so I'm currently stocking up on all sorts of snacks to get me, Junebug, and hubby through. (Cue banjo music here.)

Friday Solitude

I just ate a whole foot long coney WITH ONIONS, MUSTARD, CHEESE AND CHILI from Sonic. I ate the whole thing. And tator tots. With ketchup. I can't even remember the last time I went to a Sonic. It's been a few years, at least. I originally wanted a steak sandwich but it's no longer on the menu. All kinds of un-Soniclike stuff is though...chicken wraps, salads, PowerAid slushes. What happened? I do eat well nearly all of the time and prefer to eat healthy but being pregnant makes you crave the most unhealthy foods. My problem is I'll see somebody eating something and I'll want it. Just want to take it from them and eat it. That's how I wound up at Sonic. After paying a small fortune for a collection of faucets and shower doo-dads for the house, I drove by Sonic on my way back to the office. I could see a long line of silvery burger wrappers in the hands car diners. I didn't really internalize the effect it had until I was running errands after work. There was the Sonic again and without hesitation, I turned the car to the left, sped to a vacant stall and within minutes, my coney combo had arrived. Almost ordered a root beer float, too, but I do try to have some self control.

The husband is out of town this weekend. He plays music for a living and thankfully, he makes a living at it. I enjoy our brief moments apart. I'm sure he concurs. When we first started dating, he toured constantly. I signed up for that arrangement. I liked saying hello and goodbye with such frequency. He kept that new car smell. It's been about 3 1/2 years since he's been on the road for an extended period of time. Now, with a new musical endeavor under his white star studed belt, the road beckons again and before too long the new car smell will return. Or will it? He does have his first offspring on the way. Stay tuned.