It's all About Me

Not that I suppose anyone has been waiting with bated breath, but I have taken a hiatus from blogging and have decided that I will dip my toes once again into the blogesphere. The reason I stopped blogging is that in a postpartum haze I discovered that I had little to say. I also have been taking a critical look at myself and at what this forum for writing really means. It wasn't until I happened to read an article in Time Magazine
that I found it articulated very well. In essence I don't think that the world revolves around me, but I'm acutely aware that blogging sometimes gives that impression and to that end, I decided to take a break. I like to write. I like that when I am blogging or journaling, my synapses seem to fire more rapidly and I notice the world around me with a heightened sense of awareness. I have discovered that by not blogging, I am actually less aware of the world around me and I love to have a creative outlet.
Here is what I promise you, dear reader, if you do in fact exist:
1. I will never refer to my offspring as the little f---er as in the linked article.
2. any details of a scatological nature ie. pooping, barfing, nose-picking etc. will be absolutely germane to some universal topic--everybody poops right?
3. I will still be enormously proud of my daughter's discerning taste in music and hilarious taste in fashion.
4.I will not try to act cool because I most assuredly am not.
5. I will still probably prattle endlessly on about things that irk, please and inspire me

Should I Be Worried??

...or impressed? Artwork for 4 year old can be rather repetitive. I personally own about 500 pictures of houses with rainbows and trees with tree swings. I can be brushing my teeth, feeding the baby and making coffee and still "see" what J has just drawn.

So it took me and my husband by surprise yesterday when this latest offering was put before us yesterday. Eerily reminiscent of Edvard Munch's, The Scream, yes? What makes a 4 year old draw this kind of angst? Too little sun? Too much Coldplay and Snow Patrol? A little sister whom she loves and yet is jealous of? A mom who thinks she can brush teeth, feed baby, make coffee and see art? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I chose to laugh, gave her a big hug and googled the Scream to show her how she draws like a famous artist.

"Oh yeah, I've seen that picture on Little Einstein's, mom." Hmm, maybe cartoons aren't so bad.

Pop Culture Shame

I have been largely uninspired to blog lately. My time with two free hands is extremely limited, so typing isn't happening much, and my thoughts these days frankly, aren't too profound. Evidentally IQ points are being breastfed right out of me, as I couldn't remember my own address the other day.
That being said, there are 3 things that are currently disturbing me greatly in our weird pop culture:

1. The Oprah-ification of these poor Missouri boys who were abducted and returned. Talk about the case. Fine. Talk about child abductions and ways to amend laws that cater to repeat offenders. Great. Laud the officers who found the perpetrator. Hooray! Parade the boys in front of cameras and deliberate about what may or may not have happened and discuss how to make them feel like it was not in any way their fault. Not Ok! These family reunions are and should be PRIVATE. The therapy and reassimilation process is a process and shouldn't be a public spectacle.

2. American Idol is painful to watch. I watched the first season back in '02 when J was a tiny baby and C was often on call and away from home. I am a bit of a reality show snob. I only like the ones that are about real talent, ie, Project Runway, American Idol, and I've been known to dabble in Dancing with the Stars. I've never been impressed by consumption of heinous foods or eligible bachelors bearing roses. American Idol is meaner than ever. It makes me uncomfortable. I always have liked when it gets down to 24 and then 12 better because you are dealing talented people, but this culling down process is beyond rude and crude and I equate it to public execution.

3. Is Isiah Washington going to go to rehab now? Because that is the normal course of events for celebrities these days who make asses of themselves and spew bigotry. Is he meeting with GLAAD? What a pompous jerk. I am tired of famous people acting contrite because it is a wise career move. Is anyone who has meetings or does serious "soul-searching" about an obnoxious comment really sorry these days? Or are they just sorry they let their true feelings be known?

I'm keeping my mom busy!

...but I'm totally worth it!
--Lucy

Do I Have Time to Blog?

So much to say and a ticking time bomb is currently strapped to my chest in my moby wrap. She could awaken at any moment, so I will try to see if I can accomplish a blog.
My house currently is not too cute. Things are half chopped in the kitchen, laundry is 3/4 folded (but more is brewing downstairs in the basement), and Lucy's crib is freshly made, but as soon as I set her in it, it will be ready for a change again. Reflux sucks. I know which of my friends have had reflux babies because they have all given me darling (yet functional) burpcloths. Everything that is touched or worn in this house by anyone has been profusly spit up upon. Yesterday morning, my eighth wedding anniversary--what is 8 years? Crystal? Wood? Ummm, how about cotton burp cloth--it was my foot which was covered, and my prince romantically swooped down and wiped it up. My brain is functioning at about half speed. This is evidenced by the fact that I called my friend from Hawaii at noon our time yesterday completely forgetting the time change. Hello? I used to live there! But the coup d'etat was that I left my debit card in the ATM machine at the mall 2 days after Christmas.

I know, I know, what the hell was I doing at the mall 2 days after Christmas!? Actually I had been to a different mall the day before and am a glutton for punishment. All's well that ends well though and after traveling to the bowels of the mall basement and filling out copious paperwork while Lucy filled out her diaper, I was able to retrieve my debit card that was returned by two ladies who have restored my faith in mankind. Well, to be more specific, womankind.

Life is good though. I don't live in the Sudan.

As I mentioned before:8 years. There has been a lot of living in those 8 years. We've lived in 5 different places, lived through 2 deployments, had two children, and we still really like each other. I mean of course I love C. I really like him too.

I always seem to get back to the theme of music in my life, but yesterday I climbed aboard the treadmill and with Lucy sleeping beside me in the bouncy seat, and J, pajama clad and cartoon transfixed, I strapped on my MP3 player and let my music move me. I don't know if it is because it is the holidays or what, but when Coldplay's Fix You from X&Y came on I was almost overcome.

That entire album is so distinctly Hawaii to me. I could see my favorite runs with the ocean on one side of me and views of the Koolau mountains on the other. Just hearing that album makes me able to see the crystal clear views and smell the briney ocean air. It also makes me miss my friends there so very much. They have all scattered all around the place, but in speaking to them, I am not alone in mourning a time gone by.

Lucy is awake now, and duty calls!

I can see clearly now..

I have attempted to blog about 3 times since Lucy made her appearance and each time something or someone comes up and my plan is thwarted. I am not complaining, mind you... it is just that in the grand scheme, blogging has ranked well below going to the bathroom, feeding my face, and taking a superfast-but ultimately very necessary shower each day. That's it. That is all there is time for with my little cherub. Christmas season is in full swing and I am really trying to get everything off where it needs to go and try to muster a bit of holiday cheer.
We are (dare I write it) starting to see a semblence of a routine here. Lucy is sleeping actually quite well. She wakes twice for a feeding in the night, sometimes requiring a little topping off after the first, so really 3 times, but who is counting right? The point is that she has figured out that at night, people sleep. That is HUGE! I am once again approaching sanity.
J is adjusting in spurts. One day it is "I'm so glad that I'm a big girl." the next it's "Can I climb into your moby wrap?" For those unaware, the wrap is a baby carrier and it would take a Herculean effort, much creativity and surely surpass my supposed 10 lb weight limit post C-section to put J inside. Still, I understand the request. J's whole world has changed. I look at her and she seems so big and I have to remind myself that she is still just 4 and a half and that I can't ask more of her than I did before. (except to fetch the occasional burp cloth)

I am convinced that there is nothing like the first month post-partum. The highs the lows, the worries, the sleep deprivation, the hours of staring at your newborn's precious face, and the way time seems to warp. I am almost 4 weeks out now, and I feel like we just got home from the hospital and conversely that Lucy has been here forever.

I Am Smitten

Lucy is here and I am once again amazed by what a wild, crazy and wonderful experience it all is. The birth story will come, but until our days and nights are flipped back around to normal this is about all I can do!