Today, Not so Much

Thanksgiving and the day after were great. Friends abounded, the babies were on their best behavior, and it was great to have help all day and get some time to relax.

Today, not so much. We're back to our normal routine. We had a fun morning, but then we took a walk to Trader Joe's and there was trauma, trauma, trauma! about balloons. The trauma, trauma, trauma! continued at home, until I took the balloons away. All day has been food trauma. I think Riley has eaten half a pear today, if that. I offered them breakfast and lunch of items that they normally enjoy, but not today. Maybe they are cleansing after two days of eating random crap.

On my end, I came unglued at Trader Joe's when three, yes, three different cashiers flagged me down and said, "I can help you over here!" Each time, I would think, "Oh, great, no waiting with the impatient balloon monsters." Then I would get over there and the cashier would have started ringing someone else up. WTF? The third time, the cashier said, "Sorry, I didn't know this woman was here waiting." The woman in question had two GIANT boxes of chocolates, sitting right on on the scanner. I happen to hate that particular cashier, and this didn't help her standing with me. Then she ripped my bag of flour, white whole-wheat went everywhere, and I was the one who had to go get a new bag. I couldn't stand to wait for someone else to go get it. When we exited the store, some asshat had left his or her cart blocking the sidewalk. So considerate. Happy holidays to you, too.

All of this is minor, trivial stuff, I know. The underlying issue is that being a single parent sucks. Certainly there are things that suck more. Way more. But after two days of warmth and fun with good friends, our house feel empty. I feel bitter. Everything seems like a chore. The fun is gone.

MeMe Meme

Angla at Toronto Gyopo (who, I'm happy to report, is back to the blog after taking a summer vacation) has tagged me to share eight random things about myself with you all.

Meme Rules: Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to 8 other people, visit their sites, and leave a comment letting them know they've been tagged.

1. I wear flip-flops when I shower, even at home. It's a holdover frommy Peace Corps days, when all showers were scary places when barefoot. It felt so odd not to wear them after three years of flip-flops in the shower that I just never went back to going without.

2. One year in college, I made a New Year's resolution to floss every night. I think I've missed fewer than ten nights in the 15 years since then.

3. On a related note, when I was in college, I was told by my dentist to stop brushing my teeth so much. I was wearing away my enamel. I brushed an average of five times a day back then.

4. I am a seriously not picky eater, but two things I really, really can't stand are banana chips and alfalfa sprouts. If there is one sprout in my salad or on my sandwich, the whole thing tastes like dirt to me.

5. No matter how tired I am, I have to read for a few minutes before I go to sleep or I won't sleep well. Sometimes, I'll be exhausted an skip this step, and it never works out for me.

6. I don't intend to have any more children. But I would really love to be pregnant again. I adored being pregnant. I even jokingly told my RE that I'd consider being a surrogate. He looked me right in the eye and said, "Do not joke about that because I will call you." I think I'm too old, though, and I know there's no guarantee that I'd have an easy pregnancy again. I guess the real point of this drivel is that I'd love to be pregnant again, but for a number of reasons, I just don't see that happening.

7. I love my life and my friends in Boston, but only two places in the world have ever felt like home to me: Portland, OR (where I grew up) , and Monterey, CA (where I went to grad school).

8. In the week or so after my wedding, when John and I were home, but he still didn't have his diagnosis, I clearly remember thinking, "What's going to happen? This kind of happiness is not sustainable." And I guess it wasn't. I just didn't expect to find out so soon.

I feel like I'm a little late to the party on this meme, so I'm not going to tag anyone. But if you want to do it, step right up.

Two Laughs the Day after Thanksgiving

I did yoga today for the first time in a long time. Two friends and I did a Rodney Yee tape. Between keeping one collective eye on the twins and guffawing at Mr. Yee's equipment (seriously, does he have a sock in there?), it wasn't exactly a strenuous workout. But I've been bad about exercising lately, and I tend to have tight hamstrings under the best of circumstances, so the downward dogs nearly did me in. One of my friends was having the same issue, leading to this exchange during a particularly long version of the pose:

Me: (stealing a glance at the TV) I can't believe we're still in this position. Mr. Yee, show some mercy!
Friend: I know. What an asshole.

Maybe you had to be there, but man, I hadn't laughed that hard in a while.

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I also got a good laugh out of watching Ri-Man play with my friend's teenage son's iPod. He was blaring the 50 Cent, holding the headphones up to his ears and rocking out. Preview of coming attractions, coming sooner than I ever would have thought.

Two Things to Celebrate

Happy Thanksgiving.

And happy seventeen-month birthday, Maddie and Riley.

Wishing everyone a lovely day.

(Would love to post something thoughtful and insightful about what I'm thankful for and what this day means to me and how things are different this year without John, but time is short.)

Cool Trick

The black bean and corn quesadilla that I put in front of the twins tonight was not met with much enthusiasm.

Until I called it pizza. Then they ate every bite. Think that will work with broccoli?

Wait, was that the feeling of *happiness*?

The twins slept until 7:30 a.m. this morning. Before daycare, I had to take them to get their flu shots, and they were total troopers. I stopped to get a coffee after I dropped them off. There was a little bit of light snow falling, and the parking lot bustling, but not overwhelming. The Salvation Army bells were ringing. I could still practically taste the holiday toffee that a friend and I made last night in preparation for Thanksgiving. Everything felt just right.

As I walked across the parking lot to my car, I felt happy.

I've felt many positive emotions in the past months, in varying amounts: contentment, joy, and pride among them. But a simple sense of happy has been elusive. You can't miss what you don't have, or so "they" say, and it wasn't until I felt that bit of happy this morning that I realized how long it had been gone.

I got in the car and headed to work. A good song came on the radio, and there was no traffic. I thought about John, and I cried a little as I drove. I know John would want me to be happy. But there's a part of me that doesn't feel ready to be happy without him. Part of me believes that in the Venn diagram of "happy" and "no John," there is no overlap. Or is there?

The Awful Truth

I think we all have our shameful parenting truths. I know there are things that I do that aren't necessarily the safest or sanest, and there are things I just don't care about as much as other parents. As I was driving to a friend's house this weekend, I was thinking about my shameful parenting secrets, and thought I'd lay them out there for all to see. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to do this, but I do. Feel free to contribute your own in the comments (anonymously, if you must). I'm also going to make a list of the things I care about perhaps more than I should or feel I do particularly well. It's all about balance, right?

Here goes:

Snick's Shameful Parenting Truths
1. I drive like Mario Andretti, even with my kids in the car. I drive too fast, I tailgate, and I swear at other drivers. I try not to, but then all a sudden, there I am, passing on the right at great speed.
2. In the same vein, I bought my carseats used, and I feel just fine about that. I even let my kids wear big, puffy jackets in their carseats. The seats are very well installed and secure, and I buckle the kids in tight, but I'm just not a stickler for having the newest, highest-rated, most expensive carseat.
3. I'm not rushing off to buy plastic toys from China, but the whole lead paint scare does not actually cause me that much concern.
4. As mentioned in fair number of recent posts, I yell more than I'd like to.
5. I get up at 6:15 a.m. or so. My kids get up at 7:00 a.m. At the earliest. Lots of times, they are awake before me, and lots of times they are not very happy for the last fifteen minutes or so that they wait, but I need that time in the morning and even though they are unhappy, they aren't in danger or pain or anything, so they can wait. Sometimes they have to wait until 7:15 a.m. or so while I drink some tea and catch a bit of the news. It's really better for all of us if I take the time in need in the morning.
6. When I was pregnant, I ate lots of tuna.
7. I won't tell you how often in the past few weeks the kids have eaten this for dinner: cheese pizza, peas, and banana. They like it, and I don't like fighting at dinnertime.
8. Sometimes I wish my kids liked to watch TV. I'm sure they will like it later in life, but for now they are not at all interested and there are sometimes evenings where I long to put them in front of a 30 minute video and just veg out myself.
9. I let Maddie and Riley eat whole grapes and play with small toys that are probably choking hazards. Supervised, of course, but still.
10. I keep my house really cold. Some people think kids need a warm house, but not this mama.
11. I don't feel a bit of remorse or guilt about working out of the house. I have absolutely no desire to be a full-time stay-at-home mom. It would not be a good choice for me at all.
12. When I go out for an evening sans kids, or if I'm gone or an overnight etc., I miss them and think about them, but hardly obsessively. I enjoy that time for myself, don't feel guilty about it, and don't feel "incomplete" when the twins aren't with me. It's always good to get back to them, but it's also good to get away.
13. I let a lot of "teachable moments" go right on by. Sometimes, I just don't have the energy.

Things I'm Proud Of
1. My kids eat healthy, mostly organic food. Perhaps not as varied as I'd sometimes like (see above), but I home-cook most of what they eat and they get tons of fresh fruit. I'm a little obsessed with the home-cooked kids' food.
2. Maddie and Riley are really good about going to bed. They know their routine and they love their beds. I worked hard to get that set, and it has served us well.
3. I believe in vaccination, but will only let the kids get the ones without thimerosal.
4. I talk about my emotions with the twins a lot, even the ugly ones.
5. We get out and do a lot, see a lot of friends, and go new places. We all love to be outside.
6. I try to model good behavior to them regarding exercise, eating, and taking care of the earth.
7. The twins come first. Period. When I'm getting ready to go out for a short trip, looking ahead to the weekend, or thinking about long-term life plans, my first question is always, "Will that work for Maddie and Riley? Is this a good decision for the twins?" I take care of myself, but I do that within the context of taking care of them. (Slight oxymoron given the list of shameful secrets above, but I trust you smarties in the computer to know what I mean.)

So, what are your secrets? What are your strengths? Share.

Catch-All

In-laws went home. It was a stressful, but blissfully short visit.

I gave Maddie her first haircut today while she ate lunch. I just trimmed some long bits in the back by her ears. The locks were dutifully saved in an envelope and put in the baby book.

Last Friday, I had to return some slippers for the kids at the Land's End store that is within the sears store at our local mall. While there, I bought myself two pair of pants: jeans an camel-colored cords. I'm totally in love with them. I don't think I'll ever buy pants anywhere else.

We're spending the night at a friend's house. I'll get to do an in-law debrief once the kids are in bed. That will be nice. On the way over, I'm going to stop at Starbucks and get myself a much-needed Peppermint Mocha, just the way I like it.

I asked Riley for a hug while we were playing in the playroom this afternoon. Reply? A resounding NO. Trying not to have a bruised ego.

Currently watching Colts/KC game while babies nap. The camera just panned over the Colts cheerleaders. Why, exactly do women want to be NFL cheerleaders? Why exactly are cheerleaders still a part of pro sports? Another reason to love baseball.

In-Law Invasion

My inlaws got here yesterday: MIL, FIL, BIL. I just wrote a long post in which I detailed my every complaint about their stay so far, but I deleted it. It was just too petty and lame. Suffice it to say that it's the same old song and dance. They do so many nice things--clothes for the kids, nice things for me--but they are totally disrespectful of my space and how I do things. I'm tired of thinking about it and writing about it. I don't know how to change it, so my mantra is "It's only a weekend, it's only a weekend . . . "

I could really use a tall, decaf, nonfat, no whip, extra-hot, two-pump Peppermint Mocha right about now.

I am That Person.

I am That Person. Yes, me, Snickollet. I am the one who makes you roll your eyes when you are in line at Starbucks. Hell, I annoy myself when I hear this order come out of my mouth:

"I'd like a tall, decaf, nonfat, no whip, two-pump Peppermint Mocha, please."

(Shameful PS: I'd like to add "extra-hot" to the list, but I just can't bring myself to do it.)

Please indulge me while I whine.

Here's what would help with the yelling, the nos, the loneliness, the crabbiness, the anger, and all the rest: Having my husband back.

I can get all the help and all the breaks in the world, but there's nothing anyone can do for me that is the equivalent of having a partner in this life. And while no marriage is perfect and having a partner is not all wine and roses, John is what I'm missing, and that, my friends, is the root of all of the nastiness.

Your daily whine, courtesy of snickollet. Regular programming will return tomorrow.

Friends, Food, Wine

A friend came over for dinner tonight. She brought the dinner. And the bottle of wine. Lovely. I had not seen her in a long time, months and months. It was wonderful to reconnect with her.

The twins were charmingly perfect all evening. There was no yelling, even when Tupperware was thrown. Even when green beans were thrown. Even when Maddie PUT HER WHOLE FACE IN THE DIAPER CHAMP. Ahem. Yeah, no yelling. It felt good. It felt the way I want things to feel.

Now I must go to bed and read a book and bask in the glow of such a lovely evening.

PS: Ordered 4 FuzziBunz diapers (two size Large and two size Petite Toddler) to try out, but did not order inserts yet. Heard from a woman at a cloth diapering seminar that I attended that you can make-yer-own inserts out of microfiber hand towels—just cut them up and stuff them in. Is this crazy? I have two microfiber hand towels that I don't particularly like, so I was going to give this a go. Yes? No? Other recommended inserts?

The Yelling

Here's the thing about the yelling and the nos. I can live with myself when I yell because of a safety issue ("No! Riley! That's hot!"). I can even live with myself when I yell because one or both kids is/are doing something that they know very well they shouldn't be doing, but do anyway (usually with a sly grin and clearly with full conscience of the action). I'm not saying yelling is the best strategy in either situation, but I can live with myself for doing it.

The problem for me lately has been that I find myself yelling about all kinds of things, most of which have nothing to do with the kids. I am tired. I am lonely. I am cranky, hungry, or scared. My fuse is short, and the twins bear the brunt.

My house is very babyproofed, and my philosophy is that if they can reach it, they can touch it. I believe that they are too young for some things to be OK and some things not to be OK. We have a couple of exceptions to that, like the Diaper Champ, but overall, I think at this age it's my responsibility as the parent to keep things away from them that they should not touch.

Lately, though, I can't take it. They can reach the Tupperware in the kitchen, for example. For months, it's been OK with me for them to play with the Tupperware, spread it all over the floor, etc. They are good about helping me clean it up and they have a lot of fun with it. It shouldn't be that big a deal. But suddenly, it bugs the holy living shit out of me when they strew lids all over the place. Sure, I could move the lids out of their reach, but I don't have enough places to put everything out of reach. Nor should I put everything out of reach. They are toddlers. They are doing what they are supposed to do: playing. It's not like they are playing with my knives. It's Tupperware. That in the past, I've encouraged them to play with.

I need to regain my Zen. Consistency is the cornerstone of good discipline. I learned this when I was a teacher. I'm violating my own rule by having let them do something for ages, only to suddenly be telling them no. And I'm inconsistent about the no. Some days, I'm still OK. Many days, though, I have no patience. It's gone. Poof! Gone. I used to be all Between Parent and Child; now I'm all "children will be seen and not heard." I don't like it. At all.

I'm going to a moms of twins meeting tonight and plan to discuss this with other twin toddler moms to see what I can do to break the cycle. It's not a matter of me getting a break. I need a paradigm shift here. A philosophical change. A new worldview.

I don't mean to be melodramatic, but yesterday, the intern from the twins' daycare came over for a visit. She is a really sweet girl, a junior in college. She was telling me that she volunteers at a family homeless shelter populated mostly by stressed-out single moms. She was saying that it's so hard for her to work there because the kids just get yelled at all the time and it makes her sad to see. I know I'm a long way from all-the-time yelling, and I'm doing the best I can. But I want to nip this in the bud. There has to be a better way.

Toddlers: The Ugly

Is it me, or do all parents of toddlers feel like they spend a lot of time yelling and/or saying, "No!"?

It's a post. Barely.

My dad is visiting and we've been going full-tilt with social engagements and twin time. We had breakfast at Panera, hosted friends for lunch, stopped by a friend's two-year-old's birthday party, went out for ice cream, gave the twins a bath, and now here I am, about to collapse.

It's really rewarding to see the twins spend time with their grandfather. They bring him book and ask to be picked up. Maddie reached for him rather than me when we went in to get them up this morning. It's very sweet, and nice for me to have the extra set of hands and companionship.

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Seven months today since John died. Sigh.

Brain Still Dead

Spent the day in New Hampshire at a wedding reception for the daughter of some good friends of John's. It was a very fun day. The twins had a great time and were the life of the party. After a day of lugging them around, though, I'm pooped.

I was talking to the bride's mother during the reception, and out of nowhere I found myself saying, "John is so sorry he couldn't be here." I mean, I'm sure he is sorry. He would have loved to be there. I don't feel like I got a direct communication from John at that moment, but it wasn't like I had planned to tell her that. It just flew out of my mouth.

I really feel like John sent me that message, although writing that makes me sound like a nutjob. I have wondered if I would feel John's presence at some point, and maybe this was it. It's not what I thought it would be. I thought it would feel more physical; this was more like John had put a thought in my brain. I totally don't know how to describe it.

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Last night, I had dinner with a long-lost grad school colleague. He and I were not close when we were in school, but we reconnected through a long set of boring circumstances, and since he was in town on an interpreting assignment and my dad was visiting (read: available to babysit), we met up for dinner.

It was really fun. He's kind of an odd guy, but very nice, and it was fun to go downtown and eat a fancy meal at a fancy restaurant. It was just the kind of date I have been wanting: good company, great meal, a glass of wine, and no romance at all. That's the kind of dating I could get behind.

Computer Fixed; Brain Dead

The computer is back up and running. Fried power supply, not logic board, so that's good.

I, however, am feeling rather slow as it was a hectic day getting the computer fixed, meeting with an Early Intervention social worker, going to work for a few hours, dealing with cranky children, welcoming my father here for a visit, and running out the door to meet a long-lost grad school classmate for dinner.

Off to bed with me. This hardly qualifies as a post, but keeps my hat in the NaBloPoMo ring, at least.

NaBloMeMo

It's highly likely that I will be out of commission on NaBloPoMo for a few days, hopefully not more, due to a computer issue. My power was out for two hours last night, and when it came on, it killed my computer. I thought my computer was plugged into a surge protector, but evidently it was just a garden-variety power strip. Shooooooot. I have an appointment at an Apple Genius Bar on Friday to assess the damage. My dad assures me that my hard drive (and thus all my data) was probably not affected, but that my logic board is probably, quite literally, toasted. Sigh. Just how I want to spend my time and energy! And another thing to add to the "Why 2007 Can Bite Me" list.

Until I discovered that the computer was fried, I was pretty pleased with the way our power-free evening went down. The power went out at 5:45 p.m. The twins and I were in my bedroom; I was changing from work clothes to comfy clothes when the house went totally dark. (Thank you, time change.) Maddie started to cry, which caused Riley to cry. Meanwhile, I was about to have a heart attack because I am terrified of the dark. An internal debate ensues: comfort children or search for light source? Motherhood trumped fear, and I used echolocation to find the twins, gather them into my arms, and get us all on my bed for a snuggle and calm-down. We then lit the John candle, and from there went from room to room more gathering candles to illuminate the house.

Once we had some light, I gave the twins a candlelight picnic dinner. They had string cheese, grapes, applesauce, and crackers. I managed to light my gas stove with a match and thaw a "muffin" of mac'n'cheese, too. It was fun to have a candlelight dinner, and as a bonus, I was unable to see much of the mess they created on the floor.

Maddie and Riley were in desperate need of a bath, which I was going to forgo because of the lack of light. But I took them into the bathroom so that I could take out my contacts, and with two candles in such a small room, it was certainly bright enough for a bath. So a candlelight bath it was, and 'twas quite a success. After that, PJs and bed just after 7:00 p.m.

It was a triumphant night for me, a night that made me feel confident as a parent. I was able to deal with my own fear, calm the kids down, and make our evening fun and productive. The twins slept great and seemed to enjoy the evening.

Now if only I'd been together enough to save the computer . . . I actually thought about going to unplug it when the power went out, but never made it over to the desk to actually get it done. Oh, well. It's just a computer, right? The real problem is that I'm feeling financially fragile right now, and I fear that either (a) the repair will be expensive, or (b) I'll need a whole new computer. As it would happen, my (very generous and fairly well off) father gets to town on Friday, so I might be hitting him up for a large early Christmas/b-day present. We'll see how things go. I'm so tired of needing financial help from my parents, even though I know they are happy that they are able to provide it. It just makes me feel like a failure as an educated, employed adult to ask them for the help. But that's my issue.

I'm posting from work now, and might get my post in from work tomorrow. The weekend is a crapshoot, depending on the computer situation. I'm still NaBloPoMo-ing in spirit, even if my technology lets me down.

Diaper Help

I'm thinking of switching to cloth diapers for the twins. Now that they are older and we have a routine, I don't feel as overwhelmed by the thought of the extra laundry as I did when they were newborns. The startup costs would be lower now because they go through fewer diapers/day than they did as newborns, and I think that at twenty-five pounds and 33" tall, they are in the last size of cloth diapers and covers that they will need before they potty train.

I know that there are as many types of cloth diapers out there as there are users, but I'm still interested in people's opinions on the subject. Here are my criteria/questions:

1. I want an easy system. I lean towards all-in-one styles, but if someone can convince me that a cheaper option is no more logistically difficult, I will consider it. I am cheap, but I'm also lazy, so I need to find some balance. I also want something super-simple so that my daycare will be more inclined to accommodate the switch.

2. Both twins are serious super-soakers, so I need recommendations for very absorbent options.

3. Optimally, I'd like to do diaper laundry no more than every other day. The twins use about 5 diapers/day right now. How many cloth should I buy? I'm thinking twelve per twin, twenty-four total. Does that seem right?

4. I am not at all squeamish about buying used cloth diapers, but I know that eBay no longer sells them. Where can I go to find them?

Please, share your wisdom.

Watch Out: I Bite

I'm on our company's holiday party planning committee. I don't mind. It's a fun group of coworkers (despite incident described below), and I like the holiday party. But I could have done without this exchange yesterday:

[blah blah blah restaurant blah games blah blah Yankee swap blah]

J (married mom of three): Will spouses be invited to the party?
R (30s, single, bitter about it): Who cares? I don't have a spouse. I don't even have a boyfriend.
L (20s, single, party girl): I don't either!
R: At least last year I had a boyfriend to bring to the party.
L: I can't remember who I was dating last year . . .
Me (trying to bite tongue, trying, trying, failing): Well, last year, I had a a husband.

SILENCE.

Seriously, they deserved that. I hope they felt BAD.

For the Baby Book

Maddie and Riley learned a new skill this weekend, one that will serve them well for their whole lives. May the first weekend in November 2007 henceforth be known as The Weekend Maddie and Riley Learned to Pick Their Noses.

Out of the Mouth of a Babe

I make a point to talk about John a lot with the kids. I'm always saying things like, "Daddy loved to go to the park!" or "This was your dad's favorite shirt," or "Look, that's a picture of you and Daddy when you were very little." I am especially aware of showing the kids pictures of John. I don't know how their memories work, but I suspect that they don't actually remember John. They do seem to know who he is because of hearing me talk about him ad nauseum.

None of that takes away from the impact of hearing Riley gleefully say, "Daddy!" when he sees a picture of John. We have a little "Who Loves Baby" book into which you insert your own pictures; the first spread in ours is a picture of John holding hours-old Maddie facing a pic of Dinner a few weeks before I had her put to sleep. Riley loves to look at those pages and point and say, "Daddy! Gato! Daddy! Gato!" Then he closes the book and says, "Bye-bye. Bye-bye."

It gets me every time. Meaning multiple times a day.

Tastes Great, Less Filling

I've decided to start another blog with all of my Weight Watchers-related posts on it so as not to bore people to tears over here. See sidebar for link, which will replace my Twitter updates since I can't seem to get on board with Twitter. I also can't seem to get on board with Facebook. I created a Facebook page, but I can't figure out what the big deal is. Of course, you may remember that I'm the one who doesn't get Flickr.

I am starting to sound like a Luddite. A Luddite with two blogs.

Hey, since I posted twice today, does that mean I get a freebie for tomorrow? Probably not.

Weigh-In: Week 1

When I did Weight Watchers before, I did it whole-hog (so to speak). Went to the meetings every week and got weighed, wrote everything I ate down in a little journal, the real deal. This time, I'm too cheap to pay for the weekly membership and it would be hard to go to meetings with the wee ones. But I learned last time that the accountability of paying and stepping on that scale every week was big for me.

This time, I'm going to be accountable to the Internet. I used to do weigh-ins on Saturday mornings, and since I got my new scale at IKEA yesterday, it seems fitting to keep that Saturday morning ritual.

Starting weight: 136.6

This is after almost two weeks of pretty strict point-counting, but my only frame of reference for if I've lost or gained is a physical I got about a month ago. My weight then was 140, so I think I've lost about 3 pounds so far.

I'm hoping to get down to my original WW goal of 127, so less than ten pounds to go.

How to Spend Too Much Money in One Day

1. Write the dreaded weekly check to daycare. They deserve every penny of that money for taking such good care of the kids, but it's still al ot of cash. I can't even bear to say how much.

2. Go grocery shopping for the first time all week, stock up because you have the car (usually on foot), and buy specialty stuff for two eating events over the weekend. Discover when you go to pay that you have forgotten the gift card you were saving to use for this major shopping event.

3. Pick up your new contact lenses, not just any lenses, but gas permeable lenses which cost $75/each.*

4. Hit Costco for some diapers. Discover when checking out that membership is up for renewal. Fork over $50 more than planned to cover another year's worth of buying in bulk.

5. Go to IKEA to buy the kids comforters and sheets for increasingly chilly fall nights. Discover upon arrival that you have forgotten to bring an item for return that would have given you enough store credit to pay for the bedding. Seeing as IKEA is 30 miles from home, nix any thoughts of going back for said item. Instead, adopt, "Fuck it" attitude and buy not only bedding, but a digital scale, a few storage bins, a clock, and some fun ceramic bowls to replace your cruddy plastic ones that have been around since the dawn of time. Oh, and lunch. Buy lunch, too.

At least I'm going to a free pizza party tonight. We're going to check out a co-op playspace. Forty-five dollars buys a season's membership into a church basement gymnasium playspace with a toddler climbing area, balls galore, riding/push toys, etc. I'd have to work three 45min. shifts at the space over the course of the season (open now through late spring), but a shift can take the form of running the dress-up clothes through my washing machine or handling various admin tasks. Seems like a good deal for the upcoming stir-crazy days of winter. The commercial drop-in playspaces around here run about $7/child/visit, so $45 is a serious bargain. Plus I'd rather support a local co-op than a commercial venture.

*Of course, you only have to replace them every few years, and you'll get reimbursed from your flex med spending account, but still.

Unexpected

I wasn't sure what I wanted to do for Halloween last night. The kids don't get it yet, and I don't want the candy. Our house is up three flights of stairs from the street, and we never get trick-or-treaters. I had thought that I would just do what we do on any random Wednesday night: dinner, playtime, bath, bed. But it was a gorgeous, unseasonably warm night and the kids looked so cute their costumes that it seemed a shame not to do something.

I decided to take the kids on a Halloween walk. We went home from daycare, had dinner, and headed out. It was so warm that we didn't even need jackets. The twins were in their costumes, Riley as a ladybug and Maddie as a bumblebee.



We walked around a bit and didn't see any kids out, much to my disappointment. A friend of mine from orchestra had e-mailed me earlier in the day and said he'd be home if we wanted to stop by for some candy, so we walked over to his house. He lives on a quiet street of single-family homes; most houses were decorated, and kids were out in force. It was great, just the scene I'd wanted to find. We rang the bell, and my friend came out with his dish of candy. We set up shop on the porch. I took the twins out of the stroller, and they had a blast climbing up the porch stairs and playing peek-a-boo behind the railings. My friend made us drinks and we handed out lots of candy. It was the most fun Halloween I've had in ages. The twins and I left around 7:45, late for them, but they were delightful the whole time until I tried to put them into the stroller to go home and Riley was heartbroken. I think he wanted to move in.

It was one of those magical evenings where everything just seemed to come together. The weather was right, the costumes were right, the timing was right. It was refreshing for me to get out of the house on a weeknight with the kids, and to have them do so well at an hour when they can typically be serious crabs. But somehow the stars aligned and we had a perfect Halloween. I made it home with only two mini Snickers, so my WW commitment is even still intact.

My best friend and my sister-in-law have both recently asked me if I've thought about whether or not I want to get married again, whether or not I want to date. There are two things I absolutely cannot imagine right now: (1) being physically intimate with anyone; the very thought gives me the willies, and (2) someone other than John being Maddie and Riley's dad. But as I sat on the porch last night and had a glass of wine and talked with an adult guy, and as we handed out candy and people said things like, "Oh, your kids are so cute!" not knowing that the kids were mine and not his, I missed being married. A lot. It would have been nice at the end of the evening to take the kids inside, to have someone else help put them to bed, someone else to have dinner and another glass of wine with, someone to snuggle on the couch with. I really miss that. Most of the time, I miss it in an intangible way. My day-to-day life is what it is, and I don't dislike it. This unexpected glimpse into what I'm missing, though, made that longing for what I don't have very acute.

I'm not ready to date, I'm not ready for romantic love. I don't know when I will be. But someday, somehow, I'd like to have that part of my life back, even though it hurts so much to think that it can never be with John.

Saving

All's well, friends, all's well. I'm saving up posts for NaBloPoMo! Also, I've had the busiest October on record:

• spent two weekends getting my 20' x 20' deck redone by friends
• hosted my sister-in-law for a weekend
• sent my best friend off to Oregon, which included multiple girls' nights, an afternoon open house party, and some private tears
• saw lots of friends in the evenings
• cheered the Sox on to a World Series win (way too many late nights on that one)
• went to work
• took care of babies
• read most of Harry Potter 7
• did two activities with my twin moms club (Halloween Party and Moms' Night Out)
• celebrated a good friend's 40th birthday
• cat-sat for my upstairs neighbor for two weekends
• bounced four checks (WTF? I haven't done that in years)
• ran a 10K
• enjoyed a visit with my mom
• reconnected with a few friends from grad school
• spent a day on the north shore soaking up some sun and eating seafood
• enjoyed the company of two of my aunts and one of my uncles

Details on the above and more to come throughout November. A post a day! I'm excited about it.

Chipotle Update

First of all, Diana (no blog to link to, sorry!) pointed out in my comments that Chipotle is no longer owned by McD's. So one less thing to guilt about.

Also, their nutritional info can be downloaded from their website, which I did not discover until I got back to the office after lunch. I ended up having a vegetarian fajita bowl, no cheese, but with a drizzle of sour cream and a spoonful of guacamole. I estimated it at 12 points, and lo and behold, I was correct. With careful planning, I can do that. Next time I think I'd get the salad version instead and then I could subtract four points for the rice. Eight points is very doable for a lunch or dinner. But this could be bad, bad news for my wallet. (Not that it's expensive, but I could really see myself eating there a lot . . . )

OK, I will stop boring you all with my Chipotle and WW ramblings.

Finally, some good news!

Small good, but good nonetheless.

I was reading Emmie's latest entry, which mentions her taking her boys to lunch at Chipotle. I love Chipotle. A lot. So much I feel a little guilty about it, seeing as they are owned by McDonald's an all. But as far as I knew, they had no restaurants in greater Boston, so I only ever got to eat there when I was traveling. On a whim, I decided to check their website and see if they'd made any inroads into this area.

THREE RESTAURANTS IN STRIKING DISTANCE!!!

OMG, OMG, OMG!!!

Of course I find this out just as I start Weight Watchers again. I'm off to their website again to check nutrition info and see what I can have for lunch today.

It would be funny if it weren't tragic.

John got a jury duty summons in the mail today.

I figured I'd just fill out the form stating that he was disqualified; this can't be the first time this has happened. The form I needed to send in was a Scantron-type thing. You are to fill in one bubble of the ten provided to indicate why the prospective juror can't serve. I looked in the accompanying booklet for the descriptions of the reasons, figuring for sure that one of them would be "Deceased."

Nope.

Which of these ten do you think I chose?

1. Not a U.S. citizen.
2. Age 70 or older & choose not to serve.
3. Under age 18.
4. Cannot speak and understand English.
5. Moved permanently outside country.
6. Living full-time outside the country without returning at anytime for more than 1 year.
7. Convicted of a felony within the last 7 years, or currently charged with a felony, or currently in custody.
8. Previous juror service within the past 3 years.
9. Physically or mentally incapable of performing jury duty.
10. Primary caregiver for a permanently disabled person who is a member of the same household.

I was oh-so-tempted to choose 5 or 6, but ultimately I went with 9, and in the explanation section I put, "Juror is deceased. Date of death: 11 April 07."

I'd better not get any flak for this from the jury service folks.

Commitment

I guess I'm reasonably committed to this WW thing. At 9:15pm yesterday, I pulled myself together to make zero-point veggie soup rather than wallow on the couch eating brownies and watching mindless TV. We'll see how long the commitment lasts.

Sixteen Months in Pictures

Here they are, in all their glory. The only reason I didn't post pics before is that I was at work and didn't have easy access to my iPhoto library. These were taken in early October when we visited a friend on the south shore.

Back in the Saddle, and Musings on Weight

As of today, I'm counting Weight Watchers points again. I'm just not happy with the way I feel, and for whatever reason, this was the morning that I said, "I've had it, enough, I'm going to take control of this situation."

For those of you familiar with the WW system, I went to the store at lunchtime and bought the fixings for vegetable soup (no points!), some 2-point organic yogurts, and some microwave popcorn. I just had an afternoon snack, which put me at 13 points so far today, so I have about 7 points left for dinner. Not bad.

I had great success with WW in 2003/4, and I'm hoping that it will work for me again. I think part of the reason I did so well with it last time was that I exercised 5-6 days a week at that time. I'm trying to keep up with the running, but since the race my motivation has been low and I've had a hard time getting out there. I was hoping to go running after work today, but my jog stroller is trapped in my garage behind the lumber needed to finish my deck project, so I think I'll take the twins to the park instead and at least enjoy the gorgeous weather.

This time around, I'm too cheap to pay to go to WW meetings, so I'm going to try to do this on my own. We'll see. The weekly weigh-ins were a big motivator for me, and I actually don't own a scale and might need to get one. I can gauge my weight fairly accurately by the fit of my clothes, but I think being able to see the number go down before I notice the fit of my pants will be important to me this time around. Based on the physical I had a few weeks ago, I'd like to drop about 15 pounds.

I don't like owning a scale. If I still belonged to a gym, I wouldn't bother and I'd just weigh myself there, but no dice right now. I don't want the kids to see me on and off the scale or hear me talk about dieting. I think I'll just keep the scale in my closet and bust it out once a week for my weigh-ins. With the twins still so little, I focus on offering them good, healthy food, eating well in front of them, and only letting them have sweets on special occasions (at a party, for example). I want them to have a good relationship with food and their bodies. I hope I can model that behavior for them.

Sixteen Months of Twins

Happy sixteen month birthday, twins!

Some words you can say:
Mama
Daddy
baby
truck
gato
fish
no
water (wawa)/agua
aguacate
apple
bagel
bye-bye
banana (nana)
necklace (nono)
shoes/zapato
duck/pato
dog
peas
fruit
bottle
more
"up and down"
snack (na)
on
cheese
mano

You understand a whole lot more than that, but those are words that either one or both of you says regularly.

Some things you love:
the sound of a chainsaw (Found this out over the weekend when work was being done on the deck. You would squeal with delight when the chainsaw was fired up and beg for more when it was turned off.)
the sound of the garbage disposal
grapes
cheese
spanikopita
fruit leather
raisins
MegaBloks
play food (Riley loves the peas, Maddie loves to make sandwiches with the bread on the inside)
taking things in an out of kitchen drawers
your cribs, including your snuggly blankets and loveys
being outside
snacks
baths (except for the hairwashing part)
your friends and caretakers at "school" (aka daycare)
riding in the car
the song "Baby Beluga"
my cell phone and keys
chasing each other around like crazy freaks after bath
sitting on my lap
putting your hands in the Diaper Champ (Why? Why?)
shoes and handbags (Maddie)
ladybugs (Riley)
cats (Riley)
riding in the car
swings (Maddie)
slides (Riley)

Some things you don't like very much:
green beans
potatoes
strangers, especially men
loud laughter (other than your own)
being told "no"
having crumbs or other crud on your hands
being hungry and/or tired

It's hard for me to come up with things you don't like. That's cool. Unless you're tired, you're pretty easygoing, although you get overwhelmed when lots of people are around. Who can blame you?

You wear size 18m clothes. You have beautiful, big baby bellies. Riley, you like to get up too early (5:30 is too early!) Maddie, you'd sleep all day if I let you. When I say, "Nap," you run to your crib with glee. Riley, when I drop you off at school, you shut the door behind me as I leave. I'm so happy you are comfortable and well taken care of there.

I'm tired a lot, and life has been emotional for me lately. Sometimes I take that out on you. I'm sorry. But I try to tell you many times each day how much I love you, because I do.

Happy sixteen month birthday! I know your daddy is so proud of you, and so am I.

Not Helping

Why is it that nothing makes one look quite as bad as the lighting in department store dressing rooms? And what do they do to those mirrors? My ass can't actually be that big, can it? Wow.

Yesterday, when I didn't have time to make the reservation, round-trip flights from Boston to Portland and back for the holidays were a full $100 cheaper than they are today, when I do have time.

Running the 10K was so great that now the idea of running alone on the bike path while pushing a jog stroller filled with 50lbs. of impatient toddler truly pales in comparison. My motivation is low, although I have my running stuff here at work and it's a gorgeous day.

The Red Sox. The Red Sox! Need I say more? Although I suppose that if the situation weren't a nailbiter, it wouldn't be the Sox.

Unfunky, but a Serious Topic

I am not the most culturally hip person under the best of circumstances (meaning pop culture). The past few years of illness and kids have only widened my cultural knowledge gap.

Before I became a complete cultural nincompoop, I loved going to the movies. One of my favorite movies is Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation. There are precious few movies that I will watch over and over, but Lost in Translation is one of them.

So here's my question: what kind of rock was I living under to have missed what evidently was a lot of kerfuffle about racism in the film? (For more, Google "Lost in Translation" + racism.) I'm way late to the party, and I just don't know what to think.

I have traveled the world and lived in many other cultures. I try to be respectful of other people and aware of cultural differences and possible stereotypes. As the mother of biracial children, I want to be especially sensitive to discrimination based on race. In my mind, Coppola's movie was not racist. But I'm not Japanese. I'm a white woman who has experienced Charlotte's disconnected feeling of being the outsider. I identified so strongly with Charlotte that it didn't occur to me that the portrayal of what she was seeing could be racist.

But was it? Those of you who have seen the film, what do you think?

Funk

I am in a funk. Funkity funk funk funk.

The six-month anniversary of John's death hit me really hard. Work has been incredibly annoying. My best friend is moving away. I feel like a lot of my friends just so happen to be in those places in life where the stars align and things go their way. I want to be happy for them, and I say the right things, but mostly I'm sad, jealous, and bitter.

When John was dying, my sadness often turned to anger and it often got directed at John. So unfair, right? I was so scared of what my life would be like without him, so tired from dealing with the constant presence of Imminent Death, and so overwhelmed as a new mother that sometimes things would just spew out of me at the nearest target: John. It made me feel horrible. John and I talked about it and he was a prince for dealing with it, but it sucked. I look back on those days with much regret, mad at myself for spending our last times together in such a state of fear and anger instead of making the most of what we had left, whatever that even means.

Right after John died, there was a part of me that felt this strange sense of lightness and relief: No more cancer. Frankly, that relieved feeling was stronger than the sadness at first. John being gone was somehow too much for me to grasp, but I was more than happy to accept that cancer was no longer a part of my daily life.

The endorphins of that no-more-cancer euphoria are wearing off. Now I just feel marrow-sucking sadness. I miss John. I miss our life, even the part with cancer. I hate wondering what things would be like if he were here, because I know things would be better. I was at a party over the weekend and the whole thing was so tedious for me, a minefield of chasing my kids around someone else's house, never having time to visit with anyone, consoling Riley, who kept hitting his head or being scared of strangers. I have no wingman, and I was in a place where everyone else had a wingman. It sucked.

I can't direct all of this foulness at John anymore because, alas, he is gone. So guess who's getting it now? That's right. The twins. I am short-tempered and crabby. I am no fun. I take away toys that cause disputes. I have no energy or creativity. Emmie sang a song into her son's pants the other day to help him through a stressful time—such an awesome idea! I have no such ideas. Upset about having to wear those pants you don't like? Sorry, life is hard, you'll be fine. That's the best I can do. I just can't help but feel that they would be happier if I were happier.

There are moments of joy (the kisses!) but there is a lot of drudgery in my life right now, and a partner would make life finding the joy so much easier. I'm an optimist by nature, and what keeps me going is the thought that there must be some payoff for this, something big waiting for me, and if I keep going and keep doing the best I can, I'm going reap some amazing benefit. For now, I'm doing the right things: I eat, I sleep, I get lots of help, I talk to a therapist. It's only been six months (or is that it's already been six months?), but I'm ready for my reward to come my way.

Rhetorical Question

What does is say about my life that I'm gorging on chocolate-covered pretzels while drinking DeTox Tea?

Six Months

Today marks six months since John died.

I feel like the smallest thing could make me cry today. My emotional state is not helped by the fact that I'm tired because my mom left early this morning; my best friend picked her up at 4:30 a.m. for a 6:00 flight (thanks, Erk). I got up to see her off, and although I went back to bed and sleep, I'm still tired. Plus my mom left, which makes me sad on top of the grief sad.

And six months. I miss John more, not less, as time goes on. If that trend continues, I don't know how I'll make it.

Baby Kisses

My mom arrived on Sunday evening and was helping me put the kids to bed.

"Maddie, can I have a kiss?" she asked.

I didn't expect Maddie to comply as I've never asked her for a kiss before and figured she wouldn't know what to do. Imagine my surprise, then, when she puckered up and leaned in for a smacker. Her eyes were wide open. It was hilarious. I asked for and received one, too. It's so funny to see this little toddler face leaning in for a smooch. Sometimes she closes her mouth and sometimes it's wide open, but no matter what kind of kiss it is, she makes me laugh.

Silly girl.

One More Great Things about the Race

The DivaCup was a part of my race experience, and it did not let me down. I kept wanting to tell other runners about it, but I figured that via the 'Net, enough people already know about my menstrual protection of choice.

The Race

The 10K was great. We had what I consider to be ideal running conditions: it was cool and misty, even a bit rainy at times. As I've always found to the be case, I was motivated by having a friend to run with, an event to run in, and no stroller to push. My friend and I ran the whole way and finished the race in just over an hour, at a pace of just over 10 min/mile. I could not have asked for more.

It was incredibly inspiring to run a race for women only. There were over 7,000 women registered to run, and the people-watching before the race was fantastic. I saw moms running with daughters, a high-school cross-country team, women easily old enough to be grandmothers, and women pushing their babies. I saw women in full makeup and women who looked like they'd just rolled out of bed. There were women of all races and sizes. Many of the runners thanked the volunteers who handed us water, and thanked the spectators who cheered us on. I've never heard that before in a race. It was so nice.

I passed a women wearing a T-shirt that said, "Four Months Past Baby." I said to her, "You're awesome. It took me a year and four months to get out here!"

There were a few men running, some wearing numbers that were clearly pirated from the kids' 1K fun-run. (The kids' numbers all started with 7, so they were easy to spot.) I was surprised by how irritated I felt to see men on the course. It seemed to rude and disrespectful of them. Come on, guys! How hard is it to find your own 10K to run? Let us women keep this one for ourselves.

I was also surprised by how emotional the start of the race made me. We were asked to raise our hands and cheer if it was our first race, if we were moms, etc. All of the cheering and pep talking and group dynamic totally set me off. There were tears running down my face for the first half mile, at least.

I need to keep running races. The races make all the training—all of the running with no other adult to talk to and a stroller to push—worth it. After having been in a running rut, this was just the inspiration I needed.

Checking In

Work is busy. Home is busy; relatives in town, so good busy, but still more than usual. I'm tired and I miss posting. More to come soon. It's been a while since I've gone nearly a week (a week!) without posting.

I've been using the Olay Complete for Sensitive Skin moisturizer. I like it. I don't love it, but it's only been a few days.

More, and more interesting, soon.

PS: I'm running a 10K on Monday. Wish me luck.

Moisturizer Summary

I knew I could count on you, Internets! For those of you who are interested, here are the results. I'm only including things that got more than one vote, and I'm grouping by brand (meaning that while there were a few specific Oil of Olay products mentioned, I tallied each mention as a general vote for Oil of Olay). Here goes:

The Winner
Oil of Olay (14 votes)

Runners-up
Neutrogena (9)
Philosophy (6)
Clinique (3)
Kiehls (3)
Dove (2)
Aveeno (2)

Lots and lots of others got one vote each. I have yet to buy anything, but I have a plan. I'm going to get some Oil of Olay for daily use and then get the Philosophy for nighttime. A few people pointed out that there's no need for SPF at night (duh!) and since I have sensitive skin, it's best not to use potentially irritating ingredients when I don't need to. I just hate having two products where one will do.

I'll let you know both products work out for me. I admit to being skeptical about the Olay; I think of that brand as something for grandmas, even though all of the votes are a clear indication that it's not! Must adjust my mindset. As for the Philosophy, I love the look of their products and am glad that the results have been as good as the look for many of you.

Advice Needed on Frivolous Topic

Friends, I need some help. For the past few years, I have been using whatever facial moisturizer that my mother-in-law sent me. John had lots of trouble with his skin when he was sick, and she was always sending fancy skincare stuff to our house. Being lazy and cheap, I just used the stuff she sent and it all worked out OK. I'm finally out of moisturizer, though, and have been for the past two weeks. My skin is all dry and itchy and gross, but I'm overwhelmed by the choices when I look online or go to the drugstore. Any advice?

My skin is very sensitive and tends to be dry, but I am also prone to breakouts. I'd prefer something with SPF and something that I can use for day and night. If I can buy it at the local drugstore, all the better, but if it's available online, that's fine, too.

Hit me with your best shot.

Planning Ahead

I just signed up for NaBloPoMo. Look for a post a day for the month of November. Woo-woo!

Trying Again with the Photo Thing

I've been having trouble for a few weeks with my profile image. According to Blogger, if I post the image here, link to it for my profile, then take the post down, my image should stay in my profile. This works for me for about a week, then my profile image mysteriously disappears. I'm going to try leaving this post up to see if that makes a difference.

For the record, I have not yet gotten my tattoo, but I am planning to do so, perhaps the last weekend in October when my sister-in-law is visiting.

Dopiness (Dopeyness?) Update + Rice Query

Babysitter showed up. It was really a comedy of errors. She was horribly lost and had left my number in her dorm room. Both of us called our daycare provider within minutes of each other and got on track. I'm still annoyed with her for being late, but it all worked out. I even had time to stop for much-needed coffee on my way to the yard sale.

Regarding rice cookers, I have one, and I love it. But! I like to cook brown rice, and my rice cooker does not do a good job with the brown. Is there something I don't know?

Me = Dope (x 2)

It's 6:22 a.m. on Saturday morning. I'm supposed to be on my way to my twin club yard sale to work. The only thing is, I'm lacking a babysitter.

I called the intern from our daycare about a week and a half ago, and she agreed to come over today at 6:00 a.m. She's back at school now—a junior in college—but she'd told me that she was available for weekend sitting if I needed it. I asked if she wanted me to call and confirm, and she said no, it would be fine. She's really responsible, so I left it at that.

Now here we are, 25 minutes late at this point. Why don't I call her? Here's why I'm a dope. Her number is sitting on my desk. At work. I don't know anyone else who knows her except the woman who runs my daycare, and it's too early to call her.

I was hoping that by writing this message, she'd magically show up, but no dice. I'm annoyed with myself for leaving that number at work. I'm annoyed with her for not showing up like she said she would. Argh.

****************************
Two nights ago, I put a pot of rice on the stove to cook. I went in the other room to check my e-mail. (You can see where this is going.) About 30 minutes later, I smell something funny. Oh! The rice! I race into the kitchen to discover smoke coming out of the rice pot. I immediately turn the pot off and start opening doors and windows . . . but not before my smoke alarms go off.

My smoke alarms are wired into my electrical, so when one goes off, they all go off. I have alarms in my kitchen, hallway, entrance way, my bedroom, and . . . the twins' room. It was 9:15 p.m. and the twins were sound asleep.

I tried everything to get the alarms to stop going off: fanning away the smoke, turning the fuse off and on, pushing the reset button, trying to get the backup batteries out (I couldn't find the batteries). Finally, after about 10 minutes, the smoke dissipated enough for the system to reset.

The amazing thing? The twins didn't wake up! I still can't believe it. I'm grateful that my fire alarm system works so well, and I'm also grateful that the babies kept sleeping.

****************************
Still no babysitter. Crap.

Mac'n'Cheese Recipe

At Mar's request, here is my recipe for green mac'n'cheese. The measurements in here are total guesses, but it's pretty forgiving. I know that some people feel very passionate about the baked v. cheese-sauce-poured-over-macaroni methods. This recipe is of the latter variety.

SNICK'S GREEN MAC'N'CHEESE

1/2 lb. macaroni, cooked and drained (as I mentioned in my comments, I'm fond of Barilla Pasta Plus)

2-3 T. butter
2 T. flour
1-2 c. milk
2 c. grated cheese(s) of your choice
1/2 lb. green veggies, steamed until soft, then pureed very fine (I like to use the Trader Joe's frozen Greens with Envy)

Melt butter over medium heat in medium saucepan. Add flour and whisk. The next step is the important part! Add the milk in 1/4 c. or so increments, whisking like mad as you add so as to avoid lumps. Once all the milk in, you should have a thick, creamy white sauce. Stir in the cheese in batches; how much cheese you add will depend on your own taste buds. Stir in pureed veggies. Pour it all over the pasta and mix well.

As I said in my comments, I will freeze the final product in muffin tins. Once frozen, you can store the "muffins" in zip-top freezer bags. Each portion is about a meal (one "muffin" per kid" if they are in the mood to eat well. They take about a minute to defrost in the microwave.

Enjoy!

You Just Never Know

[Warning: another toddler food post follows. Read at your own peril.]

Like many parents, I find dinnertime with the twins a little stressful. You just never know what's coming. The kids may suddenly hate something they had always eaten willingly. They might decide to engage in the ever-entertaining "throw the food overboard" game. They might decided dinner is for the birds and scream upon seeing the high chair. Who knows what dinnertime will bring? I do know this: it's a time of day when I'm just not up for drama or surprises. My patience is thin and my parenting toolbox is usually pretty empty.

I deal with this in a variety of ways. Avoidance is one. I'll just keep letting them play for five more minutes, then five more minutes . . . until suddenly it's twenty minutes until bedtime and they haven't had dinner. This strategy often backfires in that once I finally start serving them their meal, I discover that they are really too tired to cope and they melt down and eat hardly anything. Even though I know that I'm usually better off feeding them at 5:30 instead of 6:45, I still often wait, fool that I am.

I also tend to just serve them the same thing over and over and over. Granted, it's healthy and they usually eat well when I serve it, but I do start to feel a little bad about how often my kids eat my special green* mac'n'cheese with a hearty serving of fruit on the side. I also worry about limiting what they eat and whether or not that will cause them to become picky, but I'm too much of a wimp to deal with the whining, throwing, and refusal that often come with new foods.

(I learned from Emmie that kids can require twenty or more exposures to a new food before deciding if they truly like it or not, but it can be so hard to muster up the energy to deal with the refusal!)

Here's what the real problem is. Time for a confession. I'm really just worried about myself. I have convinced myself that if the kids don't eat a good dinner, they are going to wake up hungry in the night and disturb me, god forbid. Not wanting to deal with that—because gosh darn it, I need my sleep!—I give them something I know they will eat and move on.

Two things have caused me to seriously question my stance in the past few weeks. First off, a couple of weeks ago, Maddie and Riley decided that dinner was for the birds. It didn't matter what I fed them, they didn't want it. They wouldn't even eat Pirates' Booty! For almost a week, the went to bed with basically no dinner because I could find nothing they would eat. And guess what? They slept fine.

Then, at their 15 month checkup, our pediatrician verified what I've known all along. It's my job to feed the twins a healthy meal. It's their choice to eat it or not. I'm not a short-order cook. I serve, they eat (or not). If they choose not, they will make up for it later. I was too embarrassed to confess my fear that they would wake up starving and disturb me, so I kept my trap shut and went home determined to serve dinner and not worry. It was not my problem, right? Right. Yeah.

So Monday I serve the kids the standard: green mac + sweet potato + fruit. They ate virtually nil. I didn't care (at least not on the outside). They slept great.

Tuesday, they ate great (the meal they refused Monday), and slept great.

So far, so good, right? Last night I got cocky. I served them a roasted corn and black bean quesadilla, sweet potato, peas, and fruit. To my shock, they ate really well. Really well. They were like bottomless pits.

Then they didn't sleep for crap. Correction: Riley didn't sleep for crap. Granted, he has a cold, and I think he just felt yucky and wanted a snuggle. But still.

My point after all of this blathering on: it doesn't matter. I am finally truly coming to believe that there is no relationship between what I serve them for dinner, how much they eat, and how well they sleep. I think this is better than my revelation about coffee. I feel so free now, to serve them whatever, not worry about it, and (barring illness or teething or some other unforeseen circumstance) sleep well at night.

* I make homemade mac'n'cheese with lots of pureed veggies in it since the twins generally won't eat chunks of plain green veggies.

Not Proud

I raised my voice at Riley this morning.

I stayed up too late reading last night, and I was tired this morning. I knew my patience was thin. In fact, moments before I spoke harshly to the little man, I had been repeating in my head, "They are only fifteen months old. You are tired. They are not out to get you," over and over.

Ha ha, didn't work. Riley kept ripping his bib off and it was driving me nuts. Instead of getting a new bib, making it a game to get him to keep it on, or just letting him eat with it off (I mean, really, who cares?) I grabbed the (hard plastic) bib from him, slammed it on the table and said (loudly), "Riley! You need to stop. doing. that. right now!"

I'll say this: it got his attention. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt like the world's biggest bitch, though. I did put his bib back on, apologized to him, told him that it's not right to talk to people like that and that I was tired and frustrated, but that he was not the problem. And I gave him a hug. As far as I can tell, he was thinking, "Yeah, yeah, where's my breakfast?"

I've been feeling bad about it all day. Poor little man. He didn't deserve that. I know it's not the end of the world, but I want to do better by Riley, and myself. Clearly, I don't like the way I feel when I do things like that. It's just hard when I'm tired and stressed and wish I got more breaks. It's hard to have three people in my life who deserve to be number one.

The Moment

I knew this moment would come. Experts and nonexperts alike agreed that it was only a matter of time. A big part of me didn't believe any of them, but another part of me had to acknowledge that it seemed logical that it would happen.

Over the weekend, I mourned John's death by being blindsided by an intense crying fit.

All things considered, I've been remarkably nonweepy since John died. I don't say that with pride; it's just an observation. In general, I'm a crier. Anger, frustration, irritation, sadness, joy, you name it: I have been known to express it with tears. Until this weekend, grief didn't fit the mold. Much as I sometimes wanted to, I hadn't had a truly cathartic crying fit about John. Oh, I've cried since he died, but not really about him. I've cried about daily woes and annoyances, but not about the deeper issue.

This time, it was all about John. Of course, it happened at an incredibly inopportune time. A couple of weeks ago, a friend asked me to be a reader at her wedding. I said yes without a moment's thought. What an honor! I love public speaking, so I wasn't worried about that aspect. And I was truly touched that my friends—poets themselves—would trust me to read a poem at their wedding.

I practiced at home, in the car on the way down to New York, in the school bus that delivered guests to the state park where the wedding took place. I was fine. I was a bit worried that my emotions would run high when I gave my introduction to the poem, but I ran through that a few times too and, by the time I arrived at the ceremony, I felt in control.

I underestimated the power of being at my first wedding since John died. Of seeing a friend walk down the aisle. Of the beauty of the day. How was I to know that my friends had chosen sunflowers, the same as John and me?

I was teary from the moment I saw the bride come down the aisle. My reading came at the beginning of the ceremony. I got through my introduction. I got through 24 lines of the poem. Then I got to the last three, and I started to sob. I don't think anyone at the wedding could understand these lines, from Whitman's "Song of the Open Road," through my tears:

Will you give me yourself?
Will you come with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

My friends were wonderful; they gave me big hugs and just let me get through it. I felt bad for making such a spectacle at the beginning of the ceremony; they felt bad for being "insensitive" in assigning me that reading. I hold nothing against them, although I don't think they believed me when I told them so.

I was weepy for the rest of the ceremony and for part of the reception. Writing about it makes me weepy again. I'm glad I was in the company of friends, away from home, without the twins. All that allowed me to focus on myself. I know I needed that cry. I'm sure it will happen again. I just hope it's not the middle of someone's wedding.

The Here and the Now

My best friend is moving to Portland, OR.

Erk and I met our freshman year in college. After college, when I was in Peace Corps, we stayed in touch as best we could with letters, and managed to actually see each other a couple of times, once on a vacation to England and once in the US when I was home for Christmas during my third year. When we were both in grad school in different states, we talked every Sunday night on the phone.

Then, in 1999, we moved to Boston together. And here we have been ever since. Neither of us expected to stay here as long as we have, and both of us aspired to end up back in Portland, where I grew up and where we went to undergrad.

She's landed an amazing job. Great environment, great hours, great pay, great location. I am truly happy for her. She's worked hard for this.

But it's in Portland.

I have two main issues with this: (1) I am going to miss her something fierce, and (2) I am jealous as all get out.

As far as missing her is concerned, well, what can be done? I know we'll talk. She'll see my family a lot. And I have lots of other friends here to keep me company. But I'll still miss her and that won't be fun. She and I agree that it's harder to be left behind than it is to leave, and I'm finding it especially hard since I'm usually the one leaving. I'm not used to this role.

What makes staying behind especially hard for me right now is that Erk's departure brings into sharp focus an unsettled feeling I've had for some time now. I'm having a really hard time being satisfied with what I have in my life. It's easy for me to look at Erk's life and see two big things she has that I don't: a husband and a job she is really excited about in the city she wants to live in. My husband is dead and my job is pretty dead, too.

There are circumstances in my life that I can't change (e.g., John being dead) and then there are those that I can (e.g., my job). Perhaps oddly, I find it easier to make peace with the circumstances that are unpleasant, but beyond my control. If I can't control it, there's no sense in trying. While I may be sad or angry or who-knows-what-else because of it, all I can do is honor those emotions and take life as it comes.

It's those things that I can change that tie me up in knots. I could get a new job. I could move back to Oregon. But those are two decisions that would bring unknown and unforeseeable changes to my life. I can make pro and con lists and project and guess about what those changes would bring, but at the end of the day, I can't KNOW. I want to know. As much as it drives me crazy, my job has some perks (easy schedule, slow pace, close to daycare and home, flexible hours, reasonable pay). Boston has its selling points, too (I own a home, have loads of wonderful friends, an amazing daycare for Maddie and Riley, and a job in an industry that does not exist in Portland). I could gain more than I can imagine by making either one or both of those changes, but I could also lose a lot.

In the end, I'm not much of a risk-taker. I'm also busy and tired. But I'm also discontent, and I'm not sure how to fix that feeling without taking risks. I feel like I'm on the verge of a change, a big change, but I don't know what it is yet or how to make it happen. What I know for sure is that it is getting increasingly difficult for me to be at peace with what my life is right now, and Erk's move is exacerbating that feeling.

Etiquette

To my coworkers:

We work in a cube farm. It is common courtesy when you work in such situations to observe the Cubicle Code of Ethics. Many of you have been violating the Code. Please take the following suggestions to heart:

1. Turn your cell phone off. If you can't bear to be cut off entirely, at least turn it to vibrate.
2. We all take personal calls now and then. So we all end up overhearing things that are not for general consumption but that cannot be contained by the cube. Pretend you didn't hear these things. Don't ask about things you overhear and don't spread gossip based on what you overhear.
3. Speaking of personal calls, lunchtime is a good time to go somewhere private, turn your cell phone on, and make your personal calls. I don't want to hear the lurid details of your private life.
4. Don't yell, "So-and-so? Are you there?" over the wall of your cube. Just get up and look. It's good to stretch every once in a while and the yelling is annoying.

These are simple matters. Please take them to heart.

Yours truly,
An annoyed coworker

Losing It

I had brunch today with some friends from Peace Corps. Those of us in greater Boston—and by "greater Boston," I mean New England—try to get together a couple of times a year. We've known each other for 13 years now, and it's always good to catch up.

Today, only a few of us could make it. We all have kids now, so it was pretty crazy trying to keep tabs on all the little ones and get the children and adults fed. I had not seen one of the couples there since I was pregnant. We chatted some, and John's name even came up a few times, but not once did either of them say so much as "I'm sorry."

I found that incredibly hurtful. I know it can be awkward to know what to say, but I'm also tired of being understanding and cutting people slack about that. I'm the one who suffered a loss, people. I'm sick of feeling like I'm the one who has to offer comfort because the people who should be comforting me feel awkward.

This same couple expressed an interest in getting a group photo before everyone had to head home. Maddie and Riley were getting very impatient, so I got packed up and said a few times, "So, are we doing a picture?" Discussion ensued: couch? outdoors? The twins were really ready to go. I finally lost it and just said, "Look, this is ridiculous, we need to go home. We're out for the photo." It took me getting all over-reactive and teary in the car to realize that the photo was not the issue. It was the fact that these friends could not acknowledge my loss. I'm (obviously) still stewing about it, but the anger is dissipating. But seriously, what is wrong with people?

Menstruation and Tofu Dogs

Do I have your attention now?

I never thought I'd be telling the Internet about my period, but hey, here I am. Hi, Internet! I'm going to tell you about my period now. I wouldn't bother, because really boring, right? And gross. Think of this more as a public service announcement. In fact, it's not really about my period specifically, just something period-related. Here's the thing: you all need to know about the DivaCup. My best friend, Erk (alas, no blog to link to), got one and was all up in my grille about getting one. I finally caved, and holy fucking cow what took me so long? It's awesome. I'm using it for the first time today. I'd go on about it, but just read about it on the website. And trust me: it's not as icky as you might think. The insertion is nothing, and the removal is manageable. You need to be comfortable with your girl parts, but shouldn't we all feel comfortable with our girl parts?

Check it out. Trust me on this.

(FYI, I was a committed OB tampon user prior to switching to the Diva.)

*****************************
What about the tofu dogs? you ask. Well, let me tell you. I'll even make a transition from the DivaCup to Smart Dogs. Here goes: The DivaCup is something I thought might be gross, but wasn't. The Smart Dog is something I thought would be good, but was gross.

Ugh. I should have known better. The phrase tofu hot dog really doesn't inspire confidence, does it?

Here's what happened. I went grocery shopping at Stop'N'Shop, a local store that I hate, but to which I have a bunch of gift cards given to me by my generous coworkers. As I'm cruising the aisles, I happen by the meatless meat section, and the dogs catch my eye. The twins and I eat veggie at home (although we eat meat out, which I guess makes us flexitarians, which sounds pretentious and makes me feel a little lame, but whatever), and I thought, "Hey! Smart Dogs! Easy way to get (overprocessed) protein (and salt salt salt) into the twins!"

So tonight I included tofu dog rounds with their meal. I didn't taste them first, and whooooo boy, if I had, the twins never would have. I try not to let my own food biases get in the way of what the twins eat. I feed them papaya, for example, even though I think it tastes like vomit. But I won't feed them anything that's just not fit for human consumption, and these dogs fit the bill. GROSS. Awful taste, awful texture. Awful. Never again! Consider yourself warned.

Running Update (edited to include forgotten footnote)

The good DoctorMama would be proud: I have been running. For at least a month now, I've been getting out with the twins about three times a week. I'm not going far and I'm not going fast, but I'm going.

Overall, it's been a good thing. The kids like the stroller time after daycare; they are often pretty tired after a full, social day at what I call school, and the time out in the fresh air gives them a nice transition and chance for a quick nap if they need it. It's a good transition for me, too. I'm usually racing out the door at work, perpetually five minutes late for daycare pickup, and often I have a phone call to make on my way to get the twins. The time outdoors is good for my brain and my body.

A couple of weeks ago, my dad sent me his Garmin so that I could figure out how far and fast I was going. I finally remembered to put it in my bag for today's outing. It's a damn good thing that Sitemeter and all of your comments are stroking my ego because my running results were pretty dismal. I know, I know, it's not about speed, it's about getting out there and doing it. But it's hard not to compare today's results to my running heyday the year I got married, when I regularly ran 30+ miles/week at an average of 8:30/mile.

According to the Garmin, I did three miles in 33 minutes, meaning I was doing 11 minute miles. OK, I was pushing 50 pounds of baby in a 20+ pound stroller. That time and distance includes about .25 miles of walking split between the beginning and end of the run, three brief stops to retrieve thrown Snack Traps,* and one pause at the halfway point to wipe my sweaty brow and give myself a pep talk for the return trip.

I'll be honest here (as if I'm not usually): I don't love running. I never have. I know it's good for me. It does give me energy for the evening and more patience with the twins. It's an extremely efficient way to exercise, and the only thing I've figured out how to fit into my schedule. I love what it does for me, but I'll be damned if I can figure out a way to enjoy doing it. I've never liked listening to music when I run, although I do enjoy NPR while running (I know, I'm crazy), but I don't know if I'd feel comfortable with headphones on when the twins were with me. What else is there to provide distraction? The halfway point of my run is psychologically very important to me, and I do sometimes find that I get a whiff of that elusive "runner's high" as I'm headed home. I think that has more to do with knowing that I'm headed towards that dish of ice cream that I've earned (ha) than with the joy of pounding the pavement.

There are things about running that are not good for me. I've always struggled with perfectionism, and there is no perfect in running. (There's no perfect in life, but that's an entirely different post.) I can always go faster, harder, or longer. It's very hard for me to focus on being happy with what I've done rather than dissatisfied with what I didn't do. The Garmin is a blessing and a curse in that I think it will motivate me to go longer, but it will also give me blunt truths with with to beat myself over the head.

The pros definitely outweigh the cons, there's no question. I've just been a bit caught off guard by the psychological stuff that has come up for me from running. The perfectionism, the competition, feelings of dissatisfaction with my body and it's limits. I'm hoping that these feelings motivate me to eat a little better (see above-mentioned ice cream) and make some other small changes that will give my self-esteem a little lift. My clothes haven't fit the way I'd like them to for a while and my hair is in that in-between stage. I just haven't felt pretty in a while. The running can be the foundation for feeling pretty again if I can set aside my psychological crap.

I'm going to start by getting myself some ice cream before bed. (What am I supposed to do? The plan is to finish this carton and then not buy anymore. Sssh, I know what you're thinking.)

*A long overdue reply to the reader who asked me about Snack Traps: yes, they are great, but they are not perfect (hmm, is this a theme for today?) The kids still drop a lot of Cheerios, Cheddar Bunnies, grapes, or whatever else I put in there, but at least when they shake the cups up, down, and all around, they don't spill the contents all in one go. My kids can't take the lids off by themselves yet, but I have heard that many kids figure that out very quickly and thus endeth the joy that is Snack Trap since without the lid, what's the point? I think Gerber and maybe some other companies make versions with sturdier lid attachments.

How to Feel Popular

I had been toying around with adding some kind of stats-gathering functionality to my site for while, and I finally got with the program and signed up with Sitemeter this week. As it would happen, Julie over at A Little Pregnant linked to me in her 10 September posting, "Would have wanted," a post that went up the very day I added Sitemeter.

First of all, being linked to by Julie makes me feel like a celebrity. I am all aglow. As if that weren't enough swelling of the head, Julie is sending me a ton of traffic. When I log on to Sitemeter, I feel seriously money. A quick glance at my referrals indicates that about half of the people who have visited my site this week have come via Julie. Welcome to all of you (and, of course, to those of you who found the site via other channels).

Sitemeter is a little like crack for me. The "Who's on now?" feature is particularly addictive, although the whole thing makes me feel like Big Sister. And the world map! Amazing. I'll be curious to see how traffic levels out in the next few weeks, once my fifteen minutes of fame are over.

Black Tuesday

Six years ago today: The 9/11 terrorist attacks.

Five months ago today: John died.

Bah.

A Note on Madeleine L'Engle

When I posted about Madeleine L'Engle's death, I neglected to mention that my daughter is named for her. When I was in high school, I chose Madeleine as my name in French class in honor of Ms. L'Engle, and then when Maddie came along, it was the obvious choice.

All of my L'Engle books are home in Oregon. I'm going to have to hit the library for a fix.

Revelation (Minor)

I love to drink coffee. Love it. I only drink decaf due to complete insomnia if I consume caffeine, but I love the taste and the ritual. I like to buy coffee, but I also like to make it at home or at the office. Wherever, whenever, if there's coffee to be had, I'm likely to want to partake.

Over the years, I have suffered some amount of angst about this. The cream I put in it is bad for me! I should be drinking water instead! Or green tea!

Today, on my drive to work, I finally made some peace with my love of coffee. "Screw it," I thought, "So I like coffee. Yeah, maybe tea is better for my health, but it is no substitute for coffee. I'm done with the coffee guilt. There are better uses of my time. [ed: There's the revelation.]"

The guilt never stopped me from drinking coffee, at least not for very long. But it was nice to get to work and make myself a BIG cup of coffee and just enjoy it, guilt-free.

(Calling this a "revelation" seems rather grandiose, but letting go of guilt—even on this small scale—is a big deal for me.)

Another Blow from 2007

This one doesn't strike as close to home, but it's still awful news: author Madeleine L'Engle has died at the age of 88.

Her books (although not A Wrinkle in Time, the one she is best known for) defined my childhood. I wanted to be just like her heroines: multilingual, musical, intellectual, independent, a lover of travel. I read her books over and over, something I almost never do.

How many times do I have to say it: ENOUGH ALREADY 2007!

Best. Recipe. Ever!

I love Indian food. One of my favorite dishes is Mutter (or Mattar or Mutter or etc.) Paneer, a pea curry with paneer cheese. I've often wondered about making it at home, but not in a serious enough way to do anything about it. Yesterday, I was doing some serious Web surfing, linking from here to there to everywhere, when I stumbled upon this recipe.

And the heavens opened and angels sang.

I made it last night and it was deeeeelicious. I did not put in the cashews since I plan to feed it to the twins and I am waiting until they are two to give them nuts. Also, I was out of garlic. Huh? I am never out of garlic, but I was last night, so I used a bit of Penzey's granulated garlic instead.

It was still good. And easy and fast. Two thumbs up. We'll see what the twins think tonight.

Random aside: Why does everyone love Flickr? For a number of boring reasons, I have created an account, and I've also looked at other people's Flickr photos before. I find the interface to be really clunky and confusing. Am I missing something?

Weekend in VT

We spent Labor Day weekend visiting friends in Vermont. It was a good time, just laid-back, relaxed fun with friends who have kids and thus have a kid-friendly house and lifestyle. Mostly we just bummed around, took walks, blew bubbles, ate ice cream and Popsicles, and enjoyed the perfect weather.

PICK OF THE WEEKEND
We arrived on Saturday early afternoon, in time for Maddie and Riley to have lunch and be ready for a nap. Problem: only one Pack'n'Play available; the second one was awaiting pickup at my friend's sitster's house. Solution: Maddie slept in the P'n'P while Riley and I sacked out together on the spare bed. I was skeptical that the Ri-Man would fall asleep with me on a big bed like that, but it worked out great. I wrapped him in his blankie and we curled up together, facing each other. He patted my arm for about a minute then dozed right off. Bliss. We were both asleep for well over an hour.

ANNOYANCE OF THE WEEKEND
Getting pulled over for "making an unsafe lane change." Apparently I didn't use my signal? At least I didn't get a ticket, but it was still irritating.

SURPRISE OF THE WEEKEND
Apparently, Maddie turned two while we were in Vermont. Could someone please remind her that she's not even fifteen months old? She is suddenly extremely willful and throws the word "No!" around with wild, reckless abandon. A polite request of, "Maddie, please bring Mama your shoes," which last week was met with a smile and can-do attitude is now greeted with a shriek of "No!" and running in the opposite direction. She's quite spirited, this one. We went out for dinner on Saturday night and she threw a series of fits related to a) not being allowed to play with a metal knife, b) not being allowed to have her own pint glass of water, c) not being allowed to run into the restaurant's kitchen, and d) not being allowed to grab entire slices of steaming-hot pizza. Keep in mind that she had a host of toys to play with, her own cup of water to drink from (and was offered sips of mine, I just didn't let her hold the whole pint glass), and more than one adult willing to stroll around the restaurant with her (just not into the kitchen). She knows what she wants and she's not afraid to throw a fit to get it!

And now we're home to back-to-school levels of traffic, new kids at daycare, and leaves that are starting to turn. I'm not sad to see summer start to fade. Two more seasons left in 2007.

Plants

I hate taking care of plants. I hate gardening. I hate yardwork. I hate all of it.

I love having plants around, and I love the idea of having a garden or a flowerbed. The problem is that at the end of the day, plants are just something else to take care of. I have enough to take care of. By the time I get to the plants, I have run out of steam.

John loved plants. When we moved in together, his plants had to wear seatbelts for the trip from his apartment to our place. They all had names. He lovingly tended all of his houseplants until he could not get out of bed anymore.

Knowing how much those plants meant to John, it's hard not to feel like a failure as I watch them die one by one. I'm trapped: looking at the dead plants gives me a sick, guilty feeling, as though I've let John down, but I can't bear to throw away things that were so important to him. Of course, now they are dead things. I seriously have two totally dead bonsai in the living room, Akira and Keisuke. Every week, on trash night, I think I'm going to be able to take them down and toss them. And every week I just don't have it in me.

I hate how physical traces of John are slowly being erased from the condo. There are lots of pictures around, but his stuff is being overtaken by the kids' stuff, by my stuff. Most of his clothes are gone, donated and hopefully being worn by someone who need them. His videogames are being used by family friends. I have plans to send his DVDs to the soldiers in Iraq; there are precious few movies I feel a need to own, and while not a supporter of the war, John was an ardent supporter of the troops. We're in desperate need of bookshelf space, and guess whose books are more likely to go? I'm not a big history buff, especially not military history, and I'm also not huge on biographies. John had huge collections of both. Something has to give.

I hate clutter, I hate having things in my house that aren't being used. But I also hate saying goodbye to reminders of my husband. It's a balancing act. But this may be the week that the dead plants go to the curb. Their dry, brittle presence is bringing back more unpleasant memories than good. Maybe that should be my rule of thumb: keep the things that recall happy times. Let go of the things that bring pain.