My husband makes me happy

There have been moments that I've wanted to strangle B with his own tongue, but I am increasingly beginning to appreciate what a good man I've got.

Let me count (some of) the ways:

When it comes to child rearing, not only is he involved, he actually seems to enjoy it.

He likes my cooking. (If you want to get in good with me, just eat what I cook and tell me you love it.)

We have some really good laughs together...and sometimes he laughs so hard he cries...and that makes me laugh harder.

He can fix anything. Really. I watched him take apart a computer to fix it-when I asked him what he was doing, he said "I'm not sure", but when it was put back together it worked. He's also given my car a tune up, installed a railing in our stairwell, and countless other things that I would have paid any amount of money to not have to think about doing. I love people like that.

He made me a CD once that had nothing on it but the song "I Love You" by The Climax Blues Band. (Go ahead and Google it now). So cheesy, and so sappy, and so perfectly exactly what a girl wants to hear.

He's very handsome and has big muscles.

I just felt I should let that be known.

Old Baby baby no more

I am feeling a bit wistful today.

Old Baby was a complete asshole earlier this evening, full blown tantrum (complete with kicking walls and slamming doors) that lasted the better part of an hour. Over what? Hmm...well, her best friend came over to play and evidently this is now how we deal with our friends: they aren't allowed to look at, talk to, or be near us. If said friend should attempt to touch any of our toys we snatch them away and scream. Lovely. Oh, and I was also informed that nobody loves her "at all anymore, EVER!!!"

I was angry and frustrated and sad realizing that the baby version of her is long gone and in that infant's place is this other human being with all these complexities and desires and angst. I don't wish that I had the baby version back-that was fraught with peril of another sort- I just wish that I didn't have to get all emotional and teary eyed and maternal about the passing of time and how fleeting all of this is.

She's probably sleeping now, I think I'll go look at her for a while.

Shoe fetish

I know I spent a bit of time last week writing on the evils of materialism (consumption), but I want to clarify: I was NOT talking about shoes.

One can never own too many pairs of shoes.

I love shoes.

The most fabulous thing about having a soon to be 4-year-old is reliving that time in life when EVERYTHING is about having the maximum amount of fun possible. Visits to the grocery store, car wash, doctor's office, department store...it's all an opportunity to do something exciting and sometimes vaguely inappropriate. Bored in the middle of a shopping trip at Macy's? No problem, find a bit of empty floor space and break dance. Dissatisfied with the muzak at Dominick's? Simply create your own song about fairies and butterflies and dogs-try and work in some parts about your family (how pretty mom is, that's key)-oh, and sing it falsetto for best effect. Life is, at this age, truly what you make of it.

This is something that I am certain most adults have forgotten, or decided is impossible given the grave reality of daily life.

I call bullshit on that particular attitude.

O.K., O.K, I am aware that there exist in life some things that are beyond our control: crappy jobs, annoying people, traffic jams, and so forth, but it seems that I so often speak to people who have allowed all that crappiness become what they're all about-and it soon becomes evident why their boss hates them, or their husband is so lazy, their credit is bad, or whatever. Here's my take on it: A negative attitude is the single most attractive force in the universe. There is no end the the amount of bad shit that can happen to you if you expect it to. Stop expecting it, sometimes it happens anyway and you STILL won't like it. Our days are numbered, all of us, and this may very well be your last chance to have a laugh.

Who needs diamonds when I have dirty diapers?

For most of my life I have felt that everything was an uphill battle...there were certain standards that I was required (by myself) to try and live up to. I worried that I wasn't smart, pretty or talented enough. I wasn't successful enough- I would look at other people and compare where I was in my life to where I thought they were in their life and found myself falling short. I wasn't rich enough, or sophisticated enough...oh, I was a writhing mass of insecurities and discontent.

No more...for the first time in my (nearly) 32 years on this earth I am cool with myself and where I am.

I can't exactly pinpoint when things turned around for me, but I've come to the conclusion that it's foolish to spend energy worrying about what I don't have when everything I DO have could be taken away in a heartbeat.

There is much that I am thankful for: Two intelligent, beautiful, and healthy children, a smart and handsome husband, a comfortable home, and the fact that I can afford to stay home with my girls without wondering where our next meal will come from.

After 4.5 months of being home full time with Old Baby and New Baby I seem to have the hang of it. The main thing is to remember that I am home to care for my children, not to be a perfect housekeeper. This is difficult to keep in mind because I WANT TO BE FLAWLESS. It's been very humbling to realize that I cannot. I can keep the house reasonably tidy but not spotless, I can prepare meals but they may not be gourmet, and the kids are clean and fairly well dressed. That's good enough.

Since I have given up trying to be June Cleaver I have realized what a blast it is to be a mom.

New Baby is still tiny and portable, and usually content to observe...she's SO happy. Nothing but smiles and an attitude that seems to be "Just glad to be here, wherever that is." ( I admire that in a person.)

Old Baby and I make up songs on every topic imaginable, we talk about where EVERYTHING comes from: babies, plants, shirts, furniture, the universe ("Mommy, did God make himself?"), we feed birds and look for bugs, we have picnic lunches, we play at the park and go to the zoo and the library. Sometimes we hang out with other children and their moms, but mostly it is just us-and we love it.

I love it.

My dryer is not a Ferrari

The whole family went to the grocery store yesterday and in between trips to the margarita sample table I happened to notice a little display of summer items :bug spray, mosquito netting, charcoal, etc., and one of these seasonal offerings was a clothesline .

"Hm", I thought to myself, "I've never in my adult life used a clothesline...let's give it a whirl."

I put one in the cart and my husband simply snapped "ghetto". (I think he meant "country", because all the ghettos I've seen are a bit short on yard space for a clothesline). At any rate, I put it up and hung the sheets on it when we got home. Lo and behold, it only took about 15 or 20 minutes for those suckers to dry. Granted it was VERY windy, but this got me thinking: It doesn't take that long to simply hang your laundry, and it dries as fast as, if not faster than, using the dryer, and it uses 0 energy (aside from the energy it takes your lazy butt to actually do it). The sheets smell nice, they aren't as wrinkled. This is a clear case of win-win...so why the "ghetto" connotation?

Conspicuous energy consumption seems to be the status symbol we can all enjoy. Free wind energy? Boo! Hiss! That's for the disadvantaged! Burning fossil fuels to dry your sweater which probably wasn't really dirty enough to need to be washed in the first place? Great idea!

It's insidious, and all it takes is one trip to the supermarket to see how widespread it is. Packaging for consumables is crazy...I understand that you don't want your crackers crushed, but 3 layers of protection? Individually wrapped hotdogs? Apples in plastic trays? WATER IN INDIVIDUAL BOTTLES????

....and please don't get me started on all of the monsterous SUVs I see on the expressway during rush hour with one person in them because I will burst a blood vessel.

At the end of all this consumption, what happens? What are we left with?Are we any happier? Is our life improved? Are our children smarter/healthier/better adjusted? Will we lie on our deathbed and remember fondly how we got the most stuff and how we had the biggest pile of trash at the end?


Boo. Hiss.