Oddly Busy

I have actual work to do today! The updates will have to wait, but I have to pass along this link because I love this post.

For the record, I really dislike dogs and hope to never own one. I don't like to pet them, I hate it when they lick me, and I find that they usually smell foul. But just because I don't like dogs doesn't mean I don't like dog-owners!

I'm such a sap!

I'm paying bills, and I have Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (a show I've never watched before) on in the background. I keep totally breaking down crying! The family who is getting the new house (the Latifs) is headed by a single mom. She has four kids, one of whom is wheelchair-bound. All of her children seem like such good, sweet kids, and one of the hosts keeps going off about how he was raised by a single mother and it means so much to him to be able to help another single mom out.

I'm such a sap! Idol makes me cry, now this . . .

Something of more substance to come tomorrow about our great weekend and our fashion faux pas. (OK, maybe substance is the wrong word.)

Oh brain, where art thou?

Just got a call from the woman who babysits for me one Saturday night a month asking what time she should come over tonight.

Come over tonight?

Yeah, I totally forgot that tonight was my night off. I remembered that we have a one-year-old birthday party to go to this afternoon, I remembered to make the dip for the party this morning, I remembered to pick up groceries during lunch on Friday, I remembered to do laundry last night, I remembered to do all manner of other mundane and boring things and yet I forgot that I had a night off. I'm so focused on getting through the day to day that anything outside that—even a good thing—throws me for a loop lately.

Not only do I have a night off, but I have plans! I'm going to a friend's surprise 40th birthday party. Good times, and a nice change of pace.

Here's hoping that the Ri-Man goes down OK for the sitter and sleeps like he has been sleeping for the past few nights. We seem to be more or less back on track with the sleeping, and I admit that I'm worried about rocking the boat by throwing the sitter into the mix. The kids do love the sitter, though, so hopefully we'll be OK? Maybe? Please? In any case, I will be talking with adults and drinking beer and that will be great. And the sitter does things like laundry and cooking, so I don't even have to play catch-up on an evening of missed chores. Waaaaa-hooooooooo!

Maddie: A Conversation with Herself

[Scene: Madeleine standing in the corner in the kitchen. Riely is in his seat at the table, watching me cut up broccoli. Maddie is muttering to herself.]

M: Poop.
[clearly doing some work]
M: Ouchy poop!
[more work]
M: Push the poop! Push the poop! Push the poop!
[poop pushing continues]
[and continues]
[and continues]
[and then, much clapping of hands]
M: Yay Maddie! Yay Maddie!

Such a self-sufficient girl. Gives her own pep talks and everything.

Eze come . . .

Chikeze go.

I wish it had been Ramiele or the cowgirl, but I knew Chikeze wasn't going to last long.

Until next week, Idol . . .

My Shell

I took it off last night.

It went OK.

But it also confused me.

A few things I believe:

1. Kids need routine and boundaries to feel safe.
2. Dogmatic adherence to rules and boundaries is unproductive and foolish.
3. Consistency is one of the cornerstones of good parenting.

Beliefs 1 and 2 are in contradiction to one another. In theory, it makes sense to me that the rules and boundaries are there as a starting point, but all situations are fluid and exceptions will need to be made. If you realize that you are making exceptions all the time, it might be time to revisit the rule or boundary.

If you are always revisiting your rules and boundaries, then you are violating belief 3.

What's a girl to do with all of this?

Idol Top 10: My Take (It or Leave It)

[This week I will try to use a consistent voice. My post about Idol last week was an editorial nightmare!]

Ramiele: Snooze. But at least your hair didn't confuse me (although your outfit did). I think (hope?) we'll be saying goodbye to you this week.

Syesha: You keep getting better and better, and your elegant performance this week surprised me. Nice work! And I love your  hair.

Chikeze: You've got charm, but frankly I think you're the weakest singer among the men. You're in danger. I predict the bottom three for you tonight.

Brooke: I thought the song was great for you, and you are just so genuine. And pretty! I feel like we could be BFF. Shoot me an e-mail and I'll tell you how to find me on Facebook.

Michael: Your performance made me forget the performances that had come before you. And dude, you are just so HOT.

Jason: The pants, the pants, the pants! They are still too tight! You are the male version of Brooke, though, with your honesty, charm, and genuine-ness. Was it just me or was there something weird going at the the beginning of your song, though? Until you started grooving with the Spanish, I had a hard time hearing your vocals.

Carly: You appeared to have a stick up your ass during that entire performance. I'm sorry; that must have been very uncomfortable.

David A.: I love you, I really do. But your youth is starting to show and dude, you need to drop the goody-two-shoes routine. Let your hair down! Do something crazy! Drop an f-bomb! (OK, maybe not the last one, but you get the idea.)

Kristy: That song makes me feel a little ill, and I think it was manipulative of you to choose it. It was a fine performance, but as boring as usual. 

David C.: They saved the best for last this week. You were amazing. You were so amazing that anyone reading this who did not see it needs to check it out. Thank you, YouTube:

EDITED: I was so curious about this version of "Billie Jean" that it finally occurred to me to do some sleuthing about Chris Cornell. You all probably know this already, but Chris Cornell was the lead singer of Soundgarden and Audioslave. His June 2007 solo album includes his acoustic cover of "Billie Jean." Here's a version from YouTube:

Lessons for the Day

I need to learn to manage my perfectionism.

I need to trust my instincts about my kids even if what I need to do with and for them is not what outside forces are telling me is right.

I need to remember that I will not spoil the twins (or instill bad habits) by giving them what they need.

Before I leave work every day, I am to envision shedding my shell of perfectionism, unzipping that casing and leaving it in my office. I am allowed to put it back on when I get to work in the morning. But at home, I am to focus on creating a space where the kids and I can just be and can get what we need from each other without worrying about doing it right or perfectly or the way we are supposed to do it.

This is hard work.

Opening Day

Today is opening day of the Red Sox 2008 season. Yeah! Go Sox!

They played their first game of the season this morning in Japan against the As, and managed to pull of a tenth-inning win thanks to that lovable lunatic Manny. I watched the third inning while I folded diapers at 6:45 a.m., and turned the TV on just in time to see Jacoby Ellsbury come up to bat . . . and strike out. It's great to start the season off with a win, and watching baseball (even while drinking my morning coffee) helps make me feel like spring really is in the air .

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There was  a man in my bed last night. A small man, a Ri-Man. Poor dude woke himself up coughing at 10:30, just when I was turning out my light. I was so tired and felt so bad for him that I just brought him in with me where he coughed himself to sleep fairly quickly. I transfered him back to his crib around 1:15 a.m., when I woke up to pee, and he slept through until 6:40 a.m. He was still coughing a lot this morning, poor babe. Overall, the kids have been very healthy this winter, for which I am very grateful. Sick kids are so pitiful.

********************************

Social worker appointment today. Looking forward to that, I am. And Idol tonight. Also looking forward to that. Hooray for Tuesdays!

What? When? (or: A "Comedy" of Errors)

When did the USPS get so expensive?

I went to mail a first birthday gift to my nephew today. The gift is somewhat bulky, but not heavy. It's hardly gold bars. How much does the USPS want for it? $14.95. 

Yow.

The helpful woman behind the counter advises that perhaps a flat-rate box for $8.95 would have been a better choice. So I trundle back to the office with a flat-rate box and my original package and get set to make the swap.

Only the gift does not fit in the flat-rate box. Not even close. I checked the dimensions of the larger flat-rate box ($12.95), and it ain't gonna go in there, either.

So now I shall go back to the drawing board and find a box at home that does not have Priority Mail markings on it and send it parcel post. Hey, at least I'm getting some exercise.

EDITED: Every once in a while, I have a good idea. I took my original Priority Mail box and turned it inside-out by cutting it along one side, refolding, and retaping it. Voilà! A brown box that can be sent parcel post. Now I just have to go back to the P.O. and see how much that will set me back.

The more things change . . .

Only, wait, that part of the saying doesn't really apply since nothing much has changed. The part about things staying the same? That part applies.

I haven't posted about the sleep situation for two reasons: (1) Boring! Almost as boring as that cowgirl on American Idol, and (2) although it's marginally better overall, it's still not great and I'm sick of talking about it.

And yet. Here I am. 

I'll just say that there has been Screaming every night for Lo! Many Nights now. Sometimes Maddie, sometimes Riley, sometimes both, sometimes early, sometimes late, sometimes once, sometimes many times, very rarely Never.

It could be Teeth, it could be My Bad Attitude (tm), it could be a Phase, it could be the time change, it could be a developmental spurt, it could be grief, it could be Something of Which I Have Not Thought, it could be all of the above.

And that's all I know. So send some sleep vibes my way, okeydokey? We still need them.

********************************

Weekend Highlights

• a walk to the park on a sunny Easter Sunday
  
• a 2.5 hour nap (babies, not me) on Sunday afternoon, during which I read the latest issue of People*
  
• a playdate with friends on Saturday, followed by dinner featuring a bunny-shaped cake for dessert ("We're gonna need a hose to get the frosting off Riley!")
  
• Easter brunch featuring waffles and "dip" (a.k.a. maple syrup), after which both twins smelled like delightful maple sugar candies all day
  
• the twins' newfound love of the song "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," including adorable attempts to sing along
  
• the twins choosing to eat sautéed green beans for snack on Sunday afternoon
  
• All hail the arrival of my $15 Senseo one-cup coffeemaker**!

Weekend Lowlights

• being up for the day at 5:15 a.m. on Sunday
  
• the longest stretch without screaming on Saturday night = 2 hours
  
• me being a Crabby Bitch on Sunday morning due to aforementioned screaming and early rising
  
• a sleep-deprived-induced sob-fest on the phone with my mom after nap got off to a poor start on Sunday (I suppose this is also a highlight, since it was helpful to talk things through with Mom)
  

Something that I am slooooowly learning about myself is that I'm not really a morning person. I always thought I was. And it's true that as a general rule, I'd rather get up early, get stuff done, and go to bed early than the opposite. This does not, however, mean that I'm in a good mood when I get up early. No, no it sure doesn't. So I guess maybe I am a morning person, but a reluctant and crabby one.

*Featuring Jennifer Lopez and her new twins. They are cuuuuuute. But her bliss at twin motherhood is a little rose-colored-glasses for me. I'm sure the two full-time baby nurses help Ms. Lopez to feel nothing but love and delight about her new additions. 

**The perfect complement to my Italian lover. I don't always want a latte, and now I can choose between a regular cuppa or the coffeehouse experience. I've had four or five cups out of the Senseo so far, and I'm impressed. I ordered a thingie that will let me use my own coffee thus avoiding indentured pod-servitude; hopefully it will work as well as advertised.

The Place I Am Right Now

OK, one more thing about the Bialetti and I will shut up: the lattes that come out of that thing are flaming hot. "Extra hot" at Starbucks be damned. These things are HOT. Yeow! I love it. Love it! 

The bad news is that aside from my love affair with the Bialetti, I'm not in such a good place right now. Ironically, I think this is probably a good thing. I've been edgier and moodier since meeting with the social worker, so I think that poking around at the tip of the iceberg that is my grief has made me somewhat . . . let's just call it volatile. It takes pretty much nothing to push me over the edge of hanging on to screaming madwoman. [Aside: is this how Riley feels all the time? Yikes!] Hopefully working through some of the hidden depths that are the source of the volatility will eventually calm it down. The likelihood that I will be patient with the process—and easy on myself throughout? Slim to none. But I will try. And I will drink lots of lattes. And really, what else can a woman do?

Maddie and Riley have been patient with me, more so than kids their age should have to be. I've been open with them about how I feel sad, and if I say, "Mama is sad right now," they will come over and give me hugs, which is very sweet. And when I yell or act petulant and bitchy, I apologize and explain to them that I'm not the two-year-old in our family, even though I act like I am a lot of the time lately while expecting them to act like the grown-ups.

While sleep overall has been better lately (knock on wood, knock on wood, knock on wood), getting the kids to sleep has become a production. I've been spoiled by kids who, since we did CIO at six months, have pretty much been happy to be tucked in, told they are loved, and that's that. Maybe some happy chatter, maybe straight to sleep, but once the door is closed, they're fine. Not so much lately. Riley has moved his screaming routing to bedtime. The door gets closed and all hell breaks loose. People want books. People want a hug. People want to scream for no reason that I can discern. While I don't give in to all of what I hear over the monitor, I do go in when Riley does the terrified cry, about twice a night. It's been averaging about 35 minutes between the door closing and kids falling asleep. I'm sure that to some, that doesn't seem like long. But I'm used to my me time starting when I walk out of their room, and now it starts a good bit later, and a good stressful bit later. This is wearing to me. Mantra: it's just a phase, it's just a phase, it's just a phase . . .

It did occur to me that there might be a link between me being less patient and Riley's disturbed sleep patterns. As noted before, that kid picks up on everything. I have been noticeably more sad of late, and that could be upsetting to him. The double-edged sword here is that if I were in a better emotional state, I'd handle his riled-up emotions better. It sucks that we're both down at the same time. I think some of the bedtime antics might be related to the time change, too, although that's been a while now. Who knows. Phase, that's it, phase.

At least there's dinner with my girlfriends to look forward to tonight. That couldn't come at a better time.

This might be the difference between sanity and insanity.

Cair (no blog to link to, I'm afraid) mentioned the Bialetti Cappuccino Maker in the comments on my coffeemaker post.

She (or he?) deserves some kind of prize.

I am a lover of the latte, but I have never been willing to deal with the expense and fussiness of owning a home espresso maker. But when I saw the Bialetti, I knew that my prayers had been answered.

I happened to have a few Crate & Barrel gift certificates hanging around from when John and I got married, and so today at lunch I zipped over to the closest store and made my dreams come true.

Of course, I had some doubts that perhaps the machine could not live up to the hype. I had nothing to worry about. I followed the instructions and made three fake lattes (no milk) to season the machine. Then I made a real latte.

I'm drinking it now.

It's really, really good.

The house is already stocked with regular and decaf espresso. Anyone want to come over for a latte?

The Social Worker

Meeting with the social worker yesterday was a Good Thing.

I don't really know what to say other than that; it's too soon for me to tell exactly how she will help me. But I feel very comfortable with her, and I think just having a sounding board will be great. She said some things to me about being kind to myself, recognizing that I'm doing the best I can, that I can't be perfect and that I have a lot on my plate. I know all of this. But it doesn't hurt to hear it from someone besides the little voice in my head, especially since I often have a hard time listening to the voice in my head when it's saying positive things. I stand at attention for all the negative stuff, but the positive stuff often goes in one ear and out the other.

I practiced kindness to myself last night by doing nothing during Idol except watching Idol. Oh, and drinking hot chocolate. I figure that's allowed. It felt good. We'll see if I'm able to kick the lingering guilt I have about doing "nothing" for two hours.

Tonight I have Frantic Running Around on the agenda, I'm afraid. My neighbor's mom died, and the kids and I have been taking care of his cat while he's home dealing with Death Stuff.* He should be home today or tomorrow, so I want to stop at the store and pick up a few things to put in his fridge, and a card, too. So the kids and I will do that after work. I also need ice cream since a certain friend of mine has been talking about Häagen-Dazs an awful lot and has given me a craving that Just Won't Quit. Then I have to do Massive Amounts of Laundry because I'll be out tomorrow night with my girlfriends having dinner at Catch for Restaurant Week. Woo-woo!

*Theme for today's post: eclectic capitalization.

Idol: My Take (It or Leave It)

Amanda: She's just not my type. And the skunk hair has to go. But I liked how she interacted with the judges after her performance, which, of course, has nothing to do with how well she sings.

David A.: He's back! Awesome. I don't think he can top "Imagine," but he did himself proud with "Long and Winding Road." Now I want to see him rock something up-tempo.

The Cowgirl, I mean, Kristy? Christy? Katie? I can't get her name: Snooze. She gets the boot. I want to like her because she's from Oregon, but she's too boring and bad.

Michael Johns: I thought the performance was so-so, but even so-so, he's SO SO SEXY. He can turn me on anytime. And, although I might be biased, I think he's better than that performance.

Brooke: Please contain the "Woooooooooo!" next time. I really like you, but no more dancing. No wooooos. Please. Thank you.

David Cook: I think he's great. The voice box thing did not work for me--seemed gimmicky. But every time he hits the stage, I enjoy the show.

Mr. Dreads: Your pants are too tight. Every week. Including this week. Please, get some looser pants. Despite the pants, Simon's right: you are charming.

Carly: You scared me with the eyes. Pop eyes! Eeeeeeeek! Scary pop eyes! I love "Blackbird," though, and thought you were great when I wasn't too busy being freaked out.

Syesha: Your performance totally surprised me by being so good. I think it was better than you really are, actually.

Chikeze: I don't really get Chikeze, and I did not get this performance. The slow part was really weird. And the honkey-tonk part was overdone. And if you don't play an instrument, THAT'S OK. No need to start now!

Ramiele: Your hair confuses me every week. You are small and cute. And boring. If the cowgirl doesn't go, you do.

Stuff

Work has been really slow. It was crazy when I first started, so I've appreciated the chance to catch my breath, but I'm struggling to find ways to keep myself occupied and make myself feel useful. 

On the other hand, I've been able to take care of a lot of personal projects at work, which has been really nice, and has freed up my time in the evenings to take care of even more. In the past couple of weeks I have (in no particular order):

1. Started to sort out the last remaining retirement account of John's that needs to be transfered to my name, which means that I am one step closer to consolidating those accounts with the help of a financial planner.

1a. Had the services of a financial planner basically land in my lap through a friend; he's very busy with tax season right now, but it's on the radar that I will talk to him about my financial situation and how to best get it under control.

2. Made an appointment with the oncology social worker that I met with right before John died. I'm seeing her today and I also have an appointment set up with her for next Tuesday.

3. Organized all my digital photos of the twins to date and assembled the mini photo books through the current month. (Now I need to order prints and update the physical albums; I am ashamed to admit how far behind I am there.)

4. Started tagging stuff for my moms of twins club upcoming yard sale.

5. Sorted through a bunch of toys to determine what could get sold at the sale.

6. Found online retailers for the twins' cloth diapering needs and their preferred sippy cups; both retailers offer free shipping and have great prices.

7. Given away a box of cloth diapering stuff that was given to me by another twin mom but was already too small for M&R.

8. Continued to throw out or donate some stuff in my basement that has been hanging on for way too long.

9. Looked into upgrading my cell phone and straightened out the billing/name on the account.

10. Set up direct billing for my long-term care insurance.

Not bad!

I've gotten to the point where my evenings have really been my own for the past few nights. A lot of the items had been hanging over me for some time, and while some (like the photos and the financial stuff and the tagging for the sale) are ongoing, I feel like I'm making inroads and that I can breathe a little easier.

As a result, I've been going to bed earlier and getting more sleep, which is great. I've also been thinking of what I can do with my new-found time. Exercise is one thing. Still working on the motivation for that. I think I'm going to pull out my knitting needles and get to work on a knitting project. Not sure what yet, but I'll feel better about my somewhat pathetic reality TV habit if I'm making a sweater while I watch.

Speaking of reality TV, IDOL TONIGHT. More Beatles, which I'm lukewarm about even though I love the Beatles. Idol is one show during which there will be no knitting. And no talking. Only watching.

****************************

Not sure what the ultimate decision will be on the coffee maker, but thanks for all the input. I did go ahead and order the Senseo with the $15 promotion. I mean, for $15, I can hardly go wrong, which is the whole idea behind the promo, right? If it doesn't work for me, I'm sure I can find someone who would like to have it for free, so I'm just going to give that a try for now and see what happens. Four to six weeks for delivery, bah.

UPDATE: I just got an e-mail saying that my machine has shipped via DHL! So much for a four-to-six week wait. Yahoo!

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I feel like I need to brainstorm a bit before my session with the social worker this afternoon. I was going to pen-and-paper brainstorm, but I'm sitting here typing already, so I figured I'd just share my brain dump with the Internet. You already know that I have old, yucky boobies, so really, we have no secrets.

• how to stop being The Mom Who Yells
  
• feelings of resentment, anger, frustration: where to put them
  
• those feelings as related to John and the twins
  
• guilt about resentment I felt towards John at the end of his life
  
• not enjoying my life
  
• not enjoying my kids
  
• feeling like I'm doing the right thing--getting help from friends, getting out, finding time for myself, being kind to myself--but still feeling overwhelmed, stressed, and unhappy
  
• learning to live in the moment
  
• parenting issues: not sweating the small stuff, being more patient, letting loose and having fun
  
• jealousy
  

Nonrhetorical Question

I'm considering getting myself a little treat and I need your advice.

I've had the same coffee pot for seven years. I'm too lazy to find a picture of it online, but it's a classic Krups 12-cup machine with a glass carafe. It's fine, but I think it's time for an upgrade. Here's what I'm considering:

• A regular coffee maker, but one that brews into a thermal carafe, something like this, although I'm not tied to brand
  
• A Keurig single-cup machine
  
• A Senseo single-cup machine
  

The advantage of a regular coffee maker is that I'm not tied to some "pod" system as I would be with the single-cup machines. But the great thing about the single-cup machines is that you can have a delicious cup of fresh, hot coffee anytime you want! No stale "bottom of the pot" coffee anymore!

If I go with the single-cup option, I lean towards the Keurig as it seems to have a bigger market share and thus have more "pods" available.

Thoughts? Advice?

EDITED: What about Tassimo?

Snapshots of the Twins

[Verbal snapshots, that is, because we've established that I'm not much of a photographer.]

This weekend, both Maddie and Riley started using verbs. Their talking used to be exclusively noun/adjective/pronoun based, along the lines of, "This Maddie jacket. No YaYa brown pants. More milk, please." An occasional verb now makes an appearance. Not always in the right place, mind you, but I heard things like, "YaYa ladybug bite. Maddie read book. YaYa eat! I found it! Mama book read," this weekend. Very cool.

The twins are starting to share my love of food and cooking. They helped me make banana bread, lemon bars, and pasta with tuna/capers/lemon/parsley/garlic this weekend. They ate up the pasta like it was going out of style, too, although the lemon bars were totally rejected and the banana bread garnered lukewarm reviews. It's fun to have them help, though. They were fascinated by watching eggs get cracked, and they love to stir.

Riley's word for canteloupe is yummy.

They have invented two games. One is called "Table." I sit in the play tent on one side of the playroom. The twins take turns giving the little craft table on the other side of the room a resounding smack, then running at full tilt over to the tent and flinging themselves on my lap. The other game is called "Ba Be Bo." This one is played by yelling, "Ba Be Bo [person]," then running over to the named person and giving him or her a hug that usually ends in being tackled on the floor.

Riley likes to hold and inspect things. He's very gentle and can be trusted even with delicate items like digital cameras, although I try to limit what I let him have. But he's hard to resist, when, instead of saying hold, he says ho-be, in this sweet, small, innocent voice. That's what he says when he wants me to hold him, too. "Mama, ho-be? Mama, ho-be?" How can I say no to that?

This morning, I put the song "Apples and Bananas" on the CD player. When the song was over, Riley looked at me and said, "More platano, please? More platano, please?" I was confused because it was 7:30 a.m., and bananas had thus far not been a part of our day. Then I realized, "Oh! He wants to hear the song about apples and bananas again!" Duh. He was smart enough to make the English to Spanish translation; it just took me a while.

Maddie reads books to herself now. She will sit with a favorite book and turn the pages and tell herself the story sotto voice. Baby Cakes is in heavy rotation right now, and I often find her paging through saying, "Baby Cake, I love you!" or "Baby Cake, la la la!" It's very sweet.

Riley is all about giving kisses all of a sudden. And big, big hugs. And "I love you" contests where we both say, "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou" over and over, right in each others' faces.

Rhetorical Questions from the Depths of My Mind

Why are so many bloggers also good photographers? There seems to be a correlation there, although not in my case.

Why do people slow down and obey the speed limit for a few miles after they see that a cop has pulled someone over (be it for speeding, or whatever)? Isn't that the best time to speed? While the cop is busy with someone else?

Why is it that my daughter's coughing last night kept me awake but didn't seem to disturb her slumber one bit? How can babies cough in their sleep like that?

Why do my best friend's chocolate-chip cookies always taste better than mine even though we use the same recipe?

America, you got that one wrong.

I was at book club last night, so I missed the results show, and I woke up this morning to find out that America voted David Hernandez off of Idol.

David Hernandez? Really? America, what is wrong with you?

I don't think he was destined to be the next Idol, but really, the cowgirl was much worse, and Ramiele was much more boring.

Honestly. 

I hope I can count on America to make a better choice when the presidential election rolls around in November.

Embarrassing, but True

I have been paying for John's cell phone for the past eleven months. Needless to say, he hasn't been using it. I have actually called and left him a few messages (?), but it seems silly for me to be paying for access to my dead husband's voice mail.

When I was on leave for six weeks after John died, I took care of a lot of business-type things like changing the name on some bills, taking John's name off of our bank accounts, etc. I didn't get around to taking care of the phone situation partly because I just didn't get to everything and partly because we have a good friend who works for our cell provider who was going to help me out.

Well, our friend was busy and the months dragged on and finally I just decided to take matters into my own hands. Today.

I forgot how draining it is to deal with this. The first person I talked to didn't handle the kind of account I have. Here is a snippet of the next conversation I had:

"Well, ma'am, to remove that line you'll need to have John call us and . . . "

"He can't call you. You see, he's dead."

"Oh. Sorry. You know, my dad had a heart attack three weeks ago, and . . . "

[five minutes of her personal saga]

"Let me transfer you to the department that handles deaths."

Three transfers later, I got the right person, a very kind and sympathetic person who deleted the account. Of course, if I had not specifically asked, the bill would still be in John's name. Hello? He is dead. We covered this. Could you please send the bill to me, the only person now on the account? Sheesh. Good lord. I feel like someone beat me over the head with a large, blunt object.

On the upside, I finally contacted the social worker from the oncology practice where John was a patient. I met with her a few times just before John died and really liked her. As it would happen, she has offices right down the street from my work. I'm going to set up an appointment to go in and see her; my next call is to go through some kind of registration that will allow me to book the appointment. I'm not sure I'm up to that right now, but if not today, tomorrow.

Something Funny for Once

Every night while Maddie and Riley have dinner, I set up the coffee for the next morning. This involves throwing out the grounds from that day's pot and putting fresh grounds in for the next day. The kids watch me throw out the "old yucky" coffee and love to smell the fresh, new coffee that I put in the filter.

Last night, the twins were in my bedroom with me while I was changing from work clothes into PJs. I pulled my shirt over my head and unhooked my bra. Maddie watched in fascination.

"Mama," she said, pointing at my chest, "old yucky boobies!"

I admit that they aren't what they used to be, but are they really that bad? My attempts to get her to say beautiful or luscious were unsuccessful, I'm afraid.

**************************************

We had a better night last night. Maddie slept straight through for 12 hours. Riley woke up screaming and needed a hug twice, but went right back to sleep after a hug and kiss, and so basically slept for about 12 hours himself. I was in bed by 9:30 p.m., and other than the two Riley consolations, I slept until 6:30 a.m. You don't hear me complaining.

**************************************

The hot temp quit! I'm so bummed. He claims that he needs to work on his Masters' thesis blah blah blah. The truth is that things have been slow for the past little bit, and it doesn't make sense to keep paying him to come in and look good. He did say that he loves working here, though, and that if it ever gets busy, we should give him a call. Oh, you'd better believe we will do just that, Mr. Temp!

Nighttime

When I go to bed, the house is quiet, peaceful, still, dark. I creep in to check on Maddie and Riley, listen to their breathing, marvel at their beauty, tell them I love them and wish them sweet dreams.

In my own room, I drift off, giving thanks for another day, asking for peace for us all.

The scream is like a knife in my gut. My back tenses, my jaw clenches. I check the clock. Only 45 minutes into my night. I am wide awake, anxious, and filled with dread. The screaming continues. Maddie.

I get the flashlight, pad into their room.  She's not really awake. A pat on the back and a kiss soothe her. Come morning, she won't even remember this.

I'm not so lucky. I lie awake, waiting. Waiting. Chanting. My mantra? Help me, help me, help me . . . 

Screams. Mama! Mommy-ahhh! Mama! Riley. Tightness. Clenching. Clock. It's been thirty minutes. Flashlight. Creeping. Hug. Whispered reassurances of love and safety, suggestions to hug Froggie and talk to Maddie. Mama will always love you, Mama will always try to help. Back to my room.

Help me. Help Riley. Help me. Help Riley. Help me. Help Riley.

Screams. The tightness never left. Clock. Ten minutes. Wait? Go? Wait for five. After three, go. Hugs, reassurances, suggestions. Departure. 

Help me. Help Riley. Help me. Help Riley.

Screams. Again. Five minutes. And again. And again. Over an hour. Next time: Screams, clock, flashlight. A small, frightened boy in my arms, in my bed. Restless, fussing. Help me. Help Riley. Peaceful at last, both of us, me curled on the edge of the bed, Riley sideways, feet in my back.

Awake. Why? Clock. 3:30 a.m. Riley sound asleep, me wide awake. My mantra alternates with thoughts of John, of work, of Riley and Maddie, of anger and loss, of exhaustion, sadness, and fear. Questions: Keep Riley with me? Move him to his bed? I can't sleep with him here, I fear more screaming if I move him. I wish, I wish with all my heart, that I were not making these decisions alone.

Riley back in his own bed, asks for Froggie, gives him a hug. Me alone with my mantra. Help me. Help Riley. Help me. 

Screams. Maddie. Why is she not in my mantra? Of the three of us, she is of late the best at helping herself.  Clock. 5:00 a.m. Pat on the back, rescued Binky. For her, nothing but a dream.

Mantra. I doze, but it feels like I never sleep. And then come the screams. Riley. 6:00 a.m. The usual routine. But this time, sleep for the boy. 

My mind is up for the day. My body resists. Shower, chores. The day is cold and sunny, bright with the promise of spring.

7:45 a.m. Sweet Maddie chatter. Silence from Riley. We need to get to school, to work, to the business of the day. I open their door, my weary heart filled with love. Maddie greets me, excited and happy. Riley rustles, stands, blinks, and extends his arms. "Mama, hold?" 

Of course, sweet boy. Of course.

Speechless

I got one of those meme e-mails from a friend today. It's a variation
on a meme I've seen at other people's blogs: four places you've lived,
four jobs you've had, etc. This time, it was threes instead of fours,
but same idea.

As any of you who have tagged me for memes know, I'm really bad about
doing them. I enjoy reading them, but I rarely get around to doing
them, I'm afraid. This one, though, I decided to reply to right away.
It was quick until I got to the last item: Three things I'm looking
forward to this year.

I had no answer.

Not a single one.

I have no idea what I'm looking forward to this year. Surviving?

My day-to-day life is what it is. But what I see coming up in the next
year is more of the same. While I'm not unhappy overall, life is hard.
I am looking forward to seeing the twins learn and grow, to spending
time with family and friends, to (hopefully) learning more at my job.
OK, there are three things. I guess I just want to have a different
answer, an answer that is beyond
something that's a part of my daily life. As usual, the answer here
rests with me. If I want those things to look forward to, I need to
create the opportunity for them to happen.

That seems like so much work. Can't the universe just hand me something
on a silver platter? Just once? Please?

Ups and Downs

After three weekends in a row of family, the twins and I are on our own
this weekend. We had a really nice day today. We went to a Spanish
story hour at the local library, then out for coffee and a scone, then
home for lunch and a nap. I had to wake the kids up from their nap they
slept so long. When has that ever happened?! I would have just let them
sleep, but we were supposed to head over to see some friends for a
playdate and sleepover, plus with the time change I wanted to be sure
that the kids were good and ready for bed when the time rolled around.

We had a great playdate and dinner, but bedtime was, um, well, not so
great. While Riley's sleeping has been back on track at home, he
screamed as soon as I put him down at our friends'. He's slept there
before no problem, many times, so not sure what was up. I guess he's
still working through his sleeping issues or having his phase or
whatever. I confess that I lost my shit. I made the right decision—take
the kids home rather than letting Riley sob—but I didn't execute it
very well. I had really been looking forward to spending the evening
having a good dinner and some grown-up conversation with my friends,
and I directed my disappointment at missing out on that towards the
kids. Not fair, not right—it's not like the little man deliberately
thwarted me; he felt scared for whatever reason. I did apologize to
them, but still. Sigh. It's such a classic pattern: do something
regretful, think it won't happen again, feel guilty when it does. Must
think about how to get rid of the guilt. Or manage my emotions better.

Still, overall it was a nice day, and there are worse things than
sleeping in my own bed. Speaking of which, I'm headed there soon. After all of the
kerfuffle, we didn't get home unitl 8:00 p.m., which is already an hour
past the kids' bedtime. And, of course, 8:00 p.m. is really 9:00 p.m.
because of the time change. Oh, well, maybe the twins will "sleep in"
tomorrow. Fake sleeping in is better than no sleeping in.

It's the little things.

It really is the little things that get me through the day. Lately, my little things are:

Coffee. With caffeiene. Ooooh, yeah. I've been brewing it at home because I've been running late a lot and have not had time to stop at coffee mecca. Also, still broke so trying not to spend on coffee. The cool thing is that I really love the brewing ritual, and even when the sleeping is rough, the coffee gives me something to look forward to. Honestly, earlier in the week when Riley was having it really rough, I think I would have gone postal without my coffee fix.

American Idol. You all know that already. Did anyone but me notice that I correctly predicted three out of four last night? I'm not going to miss that Danny Noriega. Or that totally forgettable blonde girl . . . what was her name? See what I mean? Can't wait for next Tuesday.

Sancerre. The white wine we should all be drinking. Can be hard to find and it's not cheap (where cheap = $10 or less), but I've never had a bad one.

Netflix. Whenever I hear about a movie that sounds good, into the queue it goes. I rarely check my queue, so it's always a surprise when a new movie shows up in my mailbox. Earlier this week is was An Inconvenient Truth (took me long enough to see that one!), tonight I'm looking forward to Dreamgirls (again, finally). All the better with a glass of Sancerre.

Cute Temps. I have a totally inappropriate for-so-many-reasons-it-will-never-go-anywhere-but-it-makes-it-a-lot-more-fun-to-go-to-work crush on one of the temps in my office. One who, oh, works for me. Heh. I raise my glass of Sancerre and propose a toast: here's to things staying busy at work so that Mr. Temp can keep on coming into the office.

What are your little things?

Memo to Riley: How to Make Mama Smile

• Sleep through the night for realz. As in 7:30 p.m. to 6:30 a.m. with nary a peep that I heard, despite the fact that you spit up the Motrin and teething tablets that I forced upon you while you got ready for bed.
  
• Decide you love broccoli. Eat a big bowl of broccoli soup at school, then eat a few pieces of raw broccoli and a few pieces of cooked broccoli at dinner. Screw the grilled cheese sandwich: give me more broccoli!
  
• Select, for the second time this week, a pink flowered shirt and orange velour pants to wear to school.
  
• Insist on giving your sister a hug before bed even though she runs away from you as you approach. Back her into a corner and give the hug anyway.
  
• Laugh like there's nothing more fun in the world when I help you do somersaults in the playroom.
  
• Walk me to the door when it's time to say goodbye at school, then stand at the door and demand a hug and kiss before I can go. A kiss! Kisses are not usually your thing.

Love you, Ri-Man.

Blog Therapy

Riley slept through the night last night. He cried briefly at 3:00 a.m., enough to wake me, but he was just fussing, not screaming, and he put himself back to sleep. Until 6:45 a.m., when he awoke happy and chatting with the Mads. Hallelujah.

There's no way to know why things were better last night, but I really think that writing that letter to him was a big part of it. My attitude about things was so much different last night after getting all that out of me. I was more patient with him, less rigid about getting things done my way, and just more relaxed in general. We had a great evening of fun, and both kids ate well at dinner. Riley had a minor meltdown before dinner, almost certainly caused by being tired, but instead of just verbally reassuring him that dinner would be ready soon, I got down on the floor and gave him a big hug, then picked him up and let him "help" me unload his backpack from school. Then he was ready to get back down and play with Maddie while I finished up dinner prep. At bedtime, the two of them chatted for about 15 minutes after I turned out the light, but went to sleep peacefully.

What was really different about last night is that my actions felt more genuine, and I think Riley could sense that. When I was consoling him, I was 100% present, not giving him a hug while thinking, "Riley! This is so not worth crying over!" (which I confess I've done in the past). This kids knows the difference between real and "fake it 'til you make it," and I think that by getting to a place where it was real for me, it helped him feel more secure.

Or maybe I'm just overanalyzing things and it was the Motrin and Hyland's Teething Tablets that I gave him before bed. Three o'clock is about when that Motrin would have been wearing off . . .

I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about what my triggers are. What things do the kids do that tend to really set me off? From there, I thought about how I could change my behavior around those things to improve things for all of us. Here are some things I came up with, big and small:

Not listening when I ask them to do something.

FIX: Remind myself that they are 20 months old and that if I cut them a little slack, it's not going to create lifelong bad habits. For example, we spend a few minutes picking up toys each evening between getting PJs on and reading stories. I already know that it's better to say, "Maddie, can you put that truck away?" rather than, "Hey! Let's clean up!" They need specifics. But even with specifics, they sometimes ignore me or get distracted. And you know what? That's OK. I can be really rigid, and I worry that if I don't make sure they are helping, they will not be good helpers as they get older. False! I need to chill out.

Playing with/touching the diaper pails. 

FIX: They are fascinated with the diaper pails (one for the disposables we use at night, one for the cloth). They love to just touch them, turn the handle on the diaper champ, lift the lid on the pail for the cloth, etc. Yuck! I get so tired of asking them to leave the diaper pails alone. The easy solution is to get the diaper pails out of the playroom. Easier said than done because our house is so small. So instead I ordered a hanging diaper pail that I can put on a hook over the door to the playroom, right by the changing table. It will be too high for them to mess with, and I can get just rid of the diaper pails. I'm also going to start using cloth at night so we'll only need the one hanging bag for the cloth. Yay! Bag has already shipped and should be here soon.

Pulling cords out of/plugging cords into the electrical outlet by the TV.

FIX: This is the one outlet that is easy for them to get to and interesting because so many things are plugged in there. It's in an awkward spot, but I covered it up with a cardboard shield last night. It's ugly, but serviceable, and neither of them tried to get behind it this morning.

These things seem so obvious, but for whatever reason, I had just not taken the time to change things up so that I could stop wasting my time being irritated over things that I can actually control. 

So I'm feeling good today. Amazing what a full night's sleep will do for a woman. And I thought American Idol was pretty good last night. I still like the guys better than the gals, but I thought that Brooke White was the best of the night with her acoustic "Love Is a Battlefield." Looking forward to results tonight . . . I predict that Danny Noriega and Luke Menard are in danger for the guys and Kady Malloy and Syesha Mercado could get the boot among the girls. Bonus: Blake Lewis from last season will be on tonight! I love Blake Lewis.

Banner

A huge thank-you to Mamallama for the gorgeous banner she designed for me—unsolicited and out of the goodness of her heart. I love it, and it's helping me to settle on a color palette.

Thank you, Mamallama!

Annoyances from Last Night/Today

[See below for my real post today. I just have to take a blog moment to air my grievances, large and small, so that I can concentrate on my work.]

• David Archuleta was not great on Idol.*
  
• Tired. Again. After another craptastic night's sleep. Again.
  
• Tense after listening to lots of toddler crying during the night and early morning hours.
  
• Clinton won Texas and Ohio. And Rhode Island. I so had my fingers crossed for Obama.
• Four mile traffic jam on the freeway in to work. Four miles! Needless to say, I was late.
  
• Sad. Still sad. Sigh.
  
• Talked to my mom while stuck in traffic. She kindly said that she hoped this rough patch smoothed out soon. I was struck by a realization: what I'm in right now with the crappy sleep and crappy weather and blah blah crap is not really a rough patch. It's a rougher patch in what has been a 3+ year long rough patch. I really believe that if you go through a tough time, you'll get rewarded by good times around the bend, but man-oh-man, this is one long, sharp turn.
  

*Although that guy who sang Lionel Ritchie's "Hello" was awesome. And that Australian guy, mmmm. Loved the song, and he is cute, cute, cute. And Mr. Dreads! I still don't understand dreadlocks, but he was great, too.

A Letter to Riley

[inspired by today's post at Ask Moxie, "The Right Way."]

My dearest Ri-Man,

I'm writing you this letter because I don't know what else to do. I'm hoping that by writing this letter, I'll find some answers to a problem that has been plaguing me for just over twenty months now. I feel embarrassed that I need to write this letter, and I hope you never see it, but for now, I need to try to put this all into words, no matter how painful the process might be.

 

Ri-Man, I love you with all my heart. I really, really do. But I do not know how to be your mother.

 

After twenty months, it's only gotten harder rather than easier. I don't know what makes you tick. I don't know how to help you feel better when you are sad. I don't know how to make mealtimes enjoyable for you. I don't know how to help you sleep.

 

You were part of my body for 38.5 weeks. Half of what you are is me, and the other half is from the person I knew best in this world, a person I understood completely. Somehow, the combination of your daddy and me has created in you a being that I find to be a total mystery, and this fact makes me sad, confused, hurt, and angry.

 

Not at you, although sometimes I take it out on you. Mostly at myself, because if I—your own mother—can't understand you, who can?

 

It's not that I don't know you. Oh, I know you very well. You are sensitive in every way, my sweet boy. Emotionally, you are the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I spend all of our time together a bit edgy, waiting for you to freak out about something. It could be anything that sets you off, but inevitably it's something. Most of the time, I either don't know what it is or I know what it is and can't help you fix it. When you get upset, I try diversion. I try rocking with you or giving you a big hug, although many times when I do this you push me away. I try letting you just have a few minutes to yourself to cry, and reassure you that it's OK to feel sad sometimes and need your space. None of these tactics seems to help much. Eventually, you come around no matter which tack I take, but even once you come around, I feel like you never fully turn the corner, that at any moment, anything could push you right back over the edge. Sometimes you won't meet my eyes when I'm talking to you, as though it's just too intense to hold my gaze and you have to look away.

 

You are cognitively sensitive. You need things to be just so. If drawers are open, you want them shut. If something is spilled, you need it to be wiped up now. If the lid on the toilet is up, you need me to close it.

 

You're physically sensitive, too. You have allergies. You are more likely than your sister or me to get sick. You hate the feel of the wind on your face. You don't like having dirty hands. You won't wear sweaters.

 

I know all of these things. I know that you like trucks, that you'd live on milk and milk alone if I let you, that you think peek-a-boo is hilarious, that anything with buttons to push rocks your world. Oh, yes, I know you. But I feel like I don't get you. I feel like you haven't really settled into the world yet, like you're still trying to decide if being out of the womb is really all it's cracked up to be, and like the process of taking in all this information overwhelms you at times.

 

To the outside observer, you are a happy kid. While I don't think that's necessarily untrue, I don't think that happy-go-lucky is your baseline. Which is OK, but it's hard for me to understand and therefore it's hard for me not to be impatient with you sometimes. You are so different from me, so amazingly different, and I have a hard time just letting that difference be.

 

I want to give you everything you need. Unfortunately, I often have no clue as to what your needs are. In addition, when I do know what you need, I can only give you all that I have to give. Sometimes that falls short. I know that you need more one-on-one time with me. But there's only one of me, and I have to split in three among you, your sister, and myself. That leaves all of us shortchanged. I can't remedy that, and it leaves you emotionally hungry and me sucked dry. I wish I could bring your daddy back or clone myself or do something so that you could have more of that attention that you so desperately crave.

 

And here we have really hit the heart of the problem, I think. It's not that I don't know what to do for you, it's just that I can't do it. I can't give you the percentage of myself that you want. When we spent the day together last Friday, I was able to give that to you, and oh! How you thrived. But I can't do that every day. I try to explain this to you, but you are so little. Even if you only understand the most basic gist of what I'm saying for now, over time you'll understand more and more and more. Right? I sure hope so.

 

I'm trying to teach you how to meet some of your needs yourself, but you are so young to have to do that. I can never decide if it's better to indulge your need for all the drawers to be closed, or if it's better to help you start learning now that things won't always be just so. I want to protect you, but I need you to learn.

 

Writing this letter has helped. I don't feel any closer to the answers right now, but I do feel reassured of how well I know you, and, on some level, how well I understand you. I know that I'm not a perfect mama, but I'm your mama, and thus the best mama for you. I just wish it felt more natural, or that I felt I was doing a better job. It's my own struggle to manage my desire for perfection, not yours. You are my ultimate test, and thus you have so much to teach me. It's up to me to learn.

 

I love you, sweet boy. Thank you for being patient with your very imperfect mama.

 

XOXO,

Mama

A New Day Dawns

Last night was better, for the most part. We had a fun evening of play, and the kids went down with nary a peep of protest. I had been in a cleaning frenzy at the office and let it continue to home, spending some time organizing my desk, filing, and updating our very outdated twin-picture website.* I was in bed at around 10:30 p.m., exhausted, and nervous. I was right back to the newborn days, filled with that sense of dread, knowing that I was going to fall asleep only to be woken up by a baby's cry.

And sure enough, at 11:30 p.m., screams from the Ri-Man. Eleven-thirty! My only thought was, "This is going to be a long night."

He went right back to sleep after a hug and reassurances that Mama was right next door. Of course, he only slept until 12:30 a.m. But again, right back to sleep. (Well, two minutes of screaming, then he was out.) But then he slept until 6:40 a.m. He cried a few times, but just brief hollers; I'm not even sure he was awake. Of course, Maddie decided to have her own personal scream-fest at 3:00 a.m., but a quick Binky location and she was right back out.

But then there was me. Sleeping? That's a different story. It really was like being back in those early days, when I would sleep but never a deep sleep, just waiting for the sound of a baby who was awake. I can't believe I lived on that kind of sleep for months, without even the happy thought of caffeinated coffee to keep me going! Yowza.

So here's to things just steadily improving for the Ri-Man in the sleep department. Improvement for him means improvement for me. And here's to it being Idol night! Yeah.

*If you would like the URL for the twin pic website, send me an e-mail and I'll give it to you.

Mindless

I'm messing with the colors on my blog, trying to find something that
better reflects my mood. The old color scheme was looking very Easter-
eggy to me, and made me feel too brave-face Pollyanna. Also, I'm very
sleepy and playing with colors is about all my brain can handle.

I'm not happy with where things are yet, but I'll keep playing around.

Quote of the Day

From Dorcasina, a woman I admire more than words can say:

Perfectionism is its own battle.

Hear, hear, my friend, hear, hear.

Soldiering On

The in-laws came, the in-laws went. All in all, they were very respectful of my time and space, and considering that the weather kept us cooped up at home for a lot of the weekend, the visit went really well. The kids are at an age where they are less needy of me and more willing to go to their grandparents, aunt, and uncle, and that makes everyone feel good. There was much less judgment than I expected, and some nice compliments on my parenting and, of course, how wonderful the kids are.

I was a bit (OK, a lot) short tempered on Sunday morning, though, because I barely got any sleep on Saturday night. Riley was up for a solid chunk of the night. He woke up screaming at 1:45 a.m., seemed to be comforted by a hug and reassurances that Maddie was in the crib next to him, I was next door, and he had his froggie to keep him safe. An hour later, same thing: screaming. That time, the comforting only worked for 10 minutes, and he was screaming again. After a couple of more back-and-forths of no more than five minutes' down time, I brought him to bed with me. He gouged me in the eyes ("Mama, ojos.") and pulled my hair ("Mama, hair.") for 45 minutes, then went to sleep. I slept fitfully until he was up for good at 6:00 a.m. Ugh. Long/short night.

I had hoped that it was an isolated incident, but last night he woke up at 2:45 a.m. This time, he just talked to himself for about ten minutes, the started to cry for me. I decided to go hardcore since he didn't seem scared, just desirous of time with me at a totally inappropriate hour. It was pretty much return to Ferber, with five minute crying intervals. In only (only!) had to go in and comfort him three times, but he was up and futzing around for an hour and a half. He'd be quiet for five minutes, the cry for thirty seconds, quiet for a few minutes, cry for a minute, etc. So I wasn't sleeping. Finally, it was all quiet for good at around 4:30 a.m., and he slept until 6:30 a.m., then woke up happy. Ugh again. Another long/short night. I hope tonight is better.

La la la la. Boring, boring, boring to read about sleepless babies.

Riley loves all things gadgetry. He likes cell phones and cameras and remote controls and computers. My in-laws were very indulgent, letting him hold their cell phones and push buttons on their cameras, something I never do. As I was going through my kitchen junk drawer last night looking for my cell phone charger, I found John's old cell phone. I decided to give it to Riley. He is thrilled beyond belief and has been carrying it around nonstop. When I ask him who he's calling, he'll say, "Ba!" or "Moo!" and open the phone and put it to his ear. It's sweet. I told him the phone was his and his alone, that is used to be his daddy's, and that he did not have to share it—even with Maddie—unless he wanted to. (She has a special purse with the same rules; the gender stereotyping there is a topic for another post!) I asked his paternal grandparents to get both him and Maddie kiddie digital cameras for their second b-days. I think they'll have a blast with them.

So now it's back to work, a new week, an upcoming weekend with no visitors. I'm already thinking that if the weather is good (read: not snowing), I'll take the kids to the zoo. They are really into birds right now. Whenever we go outside, they say, "Birdie? Birdie?" and scan the sky. I need to get a bird feeder to put outside our kitchen window. During breakfast, birds will sometimes happen by, which causes the kiddos much excitement. When the birds fly away, I get plaintive cries of, "Mama? More birdie? More birdie?" They don't understand that I can't make the birds stick around. A feeder would help.

And so is life on this first Monday in March. Pretty mundane, but somehow it turned it into a rather long post.