Adeno-licous!

My family has spent the last two weeks dripping, hacking, gooing, and sweating out a crazy gross virus. We all had pink-eye. We all had fevers. We all coughed and coughed until we thought it was the end. There was sneezing, running and rubbing of red noses. And of course, there was the stomach upset.

Adenovirus rocks!

Twice we had to take the little E to Children's Hospital ER. The first time was because some lame doctor who was on call was convinced he needed immediate blood work to rule out ebola, the hanta virus and bird flu. Or at least that was the impression he gave over the telephone while implying that staying home would be akin to dangling our baby off a balcony a-la-Michael Jackson. The ER said that we all had a bad bug and that we should rest, hydrate and stay away from those we love. Two days later when the wee boy was still struggling with a fever over 103 and was genuinely lethargic we were back. Adenovirus and ear infection combined with mild dehyrdation. IV fluids, antibiotics, back home to wait it out. That was Thursday maybe. I have lost track of days.

I had to keep him home from a playdate on Monday because he was still so run down that he could barely walk a straight line. Really. Like I actually put masking tape across the dining room floor and told him to walk it. It was kind of like a road block sobriety check for babies. My dearly beloved was pretty sure the little guy wouldn't have been able to do it even 100% healthy but whatever. I am the mama and that means my craziness wins.

The upshot of all this is...oh wait. Yeah. No real upshot, just a lot of whining and force-fed-pedialyte. So that is where I have been. As soon as my eyes stop conjunctivit-ing I will feel more myself and get back to the business of blogging.

So it goes, you know?

This is the line in the sand

Sometimes people are fortunate enough to get to a point in their lives when they now that it is THE moment. The now or never of life. I think I may be getting there now.

After so much disappointment, so much sadness mixed with pure joy I am reaching a point where I can no longer stand still. One of my favorite phrases is "agent of change." I don't know why but I really like the way it sounds. Part of me really wants to be one; a catalyst, someone who makes big changes in her world and the world around her. But then I wonder if maybe I really just want to stay in bed, covers pulled tightly to my chin, watching Montel Williams praise the mystical powers of psychic Sylvia Brown.

So what do I do? Do I loose the weight? Change the curtains? Start an activist group? Dedicate myself to religion or my business? I just don't know but I know that the time is drawing near.

I am going to have to draw a line in the sand and decide whether or not I cross it. If I choose not to then I will be stuck standing quietly behind it and watching the rest of the world go on without me. Watching my children develop without me. My husband grow and age alone. I need to draw that line and then I need to close my eyes and jump over it.

How much security do I need though? Do I have to know what I am jumping into to (as if I could!) or should I just jump blindly? The Fool in the Tarot card deck is always depicted walking off a cliff wearing a blindfold. I wish in some ways I could be like that. In some ways I am like my older sister who couldn't get into the car as a child just with the promise of a happy surprise at the end of the road. She always had to know exactly where we were going, when we would get there and what we would do. I think my parents often indulged her and just let the cat out of the bag as long as she kept it to herself.

I don't really want to be like that either.
I want to be the middle ground of impulsivity.
Is that possible? Or is the middle ground really just settling for mediocrity? Maybe I like mediocre?

Oh yeah...

The much delayed baby was indeed born! He arrived safely after many hospital delays and some induction/augmentation of labor. Another successful VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) for my sister. He weighed in at 9 pounds, 3 ounces and was a whopping 22 inches long. Wow. Mom and babe are back home and recuperating. All the kids survived four nights at my house and we have even caught up on dishes (though not sheets).

So yes, this could be the precipitating factor in my previous post. A lot of swirling in my weary brain these days around babies and birthing. So it goes. Busy, busy, busy.

Where DO babies come from?

How do I answer this question? As a child you are, at some point, taught that babies are made when an egg and sperm come together and that the baby grows inside its mommy. When it is time to come out the momma pushes the baby out of her vagina. So what do you do when that isn't true? You can't tell your kid that babies come from gaping holes created by stangers to remove babies quickly, efficiently and sterilely.

So what does one say? Most babies come out through the vagina? But you didn't? Some mommas are lucky and some aren't. Sometimes doctors need to help mommas get their babies out and then they are miserable for months and months and can never forgive themselves? How do you explain this to a child when you can't even explain it to yourself? I have to work on this because I know someday my kids will ask and I will need to know what to say. I need to know what to say to myself about it now.

How do you get over the fundamental truth of something being proven wrong? How do you change thousands of years of history to accomodate your crappy experience?

More another time.

The Boat

I am waiting for my older sister to give birth to her third baby, a boy, any day now. Did you hear me universe? ANY DAY ... NOW! She is a week and a half overdue and that is exhausting for her. Plus she has a head cold. However, I too find myself anxious for her to pop, as it were. Dearly Beloved and I will become host parents to her other two kids as soon as the big event begins and well, I am tired of being on hold. Me, me, me.

In other news...
There really isn't any. We are gearing up to find a new babysitter. Our current one is leaving at the end of next week. We only need someone for about 8 hours a week so that I can keep my business on life support at a minimum. It is such a struggle to believe that the business is worth continuing with. It comes in spits and spats and everyone loves the idea of it. But when it comes to actually selling stuff, it is a challenge to keep it up. I think the big issue is self-promotion. I need to advertise, connect and stay current.

But I also need to eat, sleep, shower and tend to these wee people who seem to follow me everywhere! So I guess that is why I need a sitter even though technically I am a stay-at-home-mama. I don't know why I let myself feel so guilty about it. I am not using the time to get my nails done or shop for shoes. The time is spent working. (Well- some of it is used for reading mommy blogs and "researching" craft sites...)

The baby is sick. She has a little fever and a runny nose and really doesn't want to do anything. It is so sad when a baby has the sniffles. You can't really do anything but give them tylenol for the fever and discomfort and then nurse, nurse, cuddle, nurse, nurse, cuddle. It is a good time though to fall in love with your baby all over again.

This blog may very well falter. I am putting that out there now so that the universe is aware of my minimal expectations. Wow. I have mentioned the universe twice now. It almost sound like I am someone who has faith. Anyway- I don't know what to write here and how much of my life to divulge. It will be a sort of public learning curve.

So my little boat of a blog is in the harbor but I am waiting to call it launched until I have some more posts under my belt. Metaphors- mix 'em if you got 'em.

The Start

What's this? Another mommy blog? Is there room for one more? We'll see. I think so or I wouldn't be venturing into this. So who is this particular mommy and why do you care to read about her?

Good question. I am a 29 year old mother to two wee babes. A son who is almost 2.5 and a daughter who is almost 8 months. They are 21 months apart. I have been pregnant and/or breastfeeding since July 2003. Wow. That kind of says it all right there.

Anyway- I live outside Boston but as the epitome of urban flight, I rarely venture into the city proper. I am married to a handsome man who still cracks me up after 6 years of marriage. My family (as in Mom, Dad, and my sibling peeps) are as crazy as yours and maybe even crazier. Most days I am a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) but I also run a small indie crafts business when not chasing babies. It is a hard balance to strike.

Oh- and I used to be cool.

That is probably the one thing that I wish more people knew about me. I haven't always been the gal with the clean house and polite kids. I never used to spend time on mastering quick bread recipes or sewing dress-up clothes. I used to smoke and drink and actually leave the house when it was dark. Often that would be my first outing of the day. I used to like music and movies and know a thing or two about a thing or two. For real.

So now I am reaching out into the blogosphere because I want to examine this mommy-ness I have and learn to integrate my old self with my new self. Maybe they will even like each other. I want to write again the way I did when I was twenty and bent over a notebook at 2am in a diner near South Station, wishing that my hand could move faster. I want to have that sense of self-examination that comes with the copious spilling of thoughts.

So now I guess I wait, and hope that the right words come. I am going to try to be honest about my life because, well, why not? That means that most things are fair game- my days, my nights, my past, my terrors and joys. So it goes.