Poking through

We have a tooth! A sharp little bugger just poking out of her bottom gums.

Ahhh!

I can't stop rubbing it.

I swear! One day soon I will blog more! The move is coming along nicely. Soon my life will be all normal and stuff. I can see friends! I can be a friend! I can clean my bathroom! Soon.

In the meantime I have to write this great event down before I forget.

7 months, 3 days old

She said mama.

Eating breakfast this morning, roasted bananas and pears on her face she says mama. I make my own baby food and man that stuff is good. She already eats blueberries, squash, sweet taters, carrots, pear, apple, banana, green beans, peas, manga, avocado, peaches, rice cereal, barley and oatmeal, cantaloupe but zucchini with onions is her favorite. I've got plum, broccoli, garlic and white taters ready to go. She'll start those as soon as the move is over. I'm sticking to the tried and trues for the next 2 weeks because if she were to have a reaction I can't miss work right now. I got so excited when she said mama I nearly dropped her spoon. I say it back to her. She says it back to me. And then she starts "Mama mama mama mama." When I picked her up at daycare (late because of the move) she is eating dinner in her high chair there. "Mama mama." She smiles and gets excited when I walk in and she sees me. I would love to think this is because she is excited to see me but she has the same reaction to just about anyone she hasn't seen in a few hours. The women at the gas station (she goes behind the counter at Mapco in the mornings with her friend while mom gets a Diet Cherry Pepsi from the bottom shelve and a chicken biscuit from the cooks). She gives everyone she sees a winning smile.

She doesn't know who or what mama is, she just knows that she can say it and I get all excited and happy. We are always playing peekabo to the tune of "Wherrrreeesss Mommy... THERE'S Mommy." I've changed mommy to mama hoping she will make the connection.

She is amazing. Simply amazing. People go on and on about how good she is. She is so sweet and fun. She can be so serious. She watches what people are doing, really concentrates. I'm the luckiest mama alive.

My friend Jason (old pal from elementary school) brought his kids over today to swim. They were still here when I got home so she and I joined him. His girls are 7 and 11 and they had a ball playing with Rowan. Fun stuff. Rowan kicks her little legs and flaps her little arms. She smacks the water and splashes. She starts squealing and clutching on to me the minute we get in (it's always too cold for both of us) but she gets warm and fiesty fast. So much fun. And when she tips forward (closely supervised of course) and her nose and mouth go under the water she just spits it clear and doesn't fuss.

Yes. Lucky. I love her more than sunshine.

And I got to see my big critter this week. He came by work Monday and then came in last night about eleven and scared me shitless. I was dead asleep and he comes in my room to wake me up. I love love love the boy. I hope I can raise Rowan to be as affectionate of a critter as Z is. It doesn't bother him in the least (at least he doesn't shy away) when I hug him a zillion times each time I see him or we hang out arm in arm while we chat with his buddies. Love the boy. Love the WIL for letting me love the boy.

Hell, I love the world.

Now if only I had a new lover.....

Zero the Comfort Kitty

Yes, I am the crazy cat lady but seriously, this is sweet.

I take Rowan to daycare this morning and drop her off. I'm still feeling sickly so I come home intending to nap and sleep off the last of this nausea. Guilt has overtaken me and I'm up cleaning, doing laundry but at least my intentions were good to do nothing.

I lay down to nap. Zero and Nibs (Nibbler... Tripod... The Three Legged Monster) were asleep at my feet. Nibs starts that cat hacking that is generally followed by a nice puddle of warm slime that is the WORSE thing to step in when you stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I swear whenever one of those little shits get sick they do it right in a high traffic area.

I boot him. Gently at first but he wasn't budging. Hack hack hack. I give him a slightly harder nudge and he goes flying off the bed, landing on all 3 legs. Hack hack hack. Pitiful to see. Zero leaps off the bed and runs to him, starts sniffing at his shoulder and then licks him on the head as he is hacking. Ever had anyone hold your hair while you puke? It's a very loving thing. That is what it looked like. As always Zero is the comfort kitty.

Naptime was over. Now it is mop time.

I went to get Rowan out of her crib yesterday morning and she was on her stomach for the first time. My big girl.

Hip Hip Hooray!

I just finished the last of my homework! That's it!

Well... sort of. I still have a 30 or 40 page portfolio to do BUT that will be easy... it's all about me. Essays and such on what I've done, where I've been, what I've learned. I can bullshit my way through that without a problem.

I ended up postponing my last class until the next time it is offered. With work and the move coming up (in less than 2 weeks!) and with my dreadful childcare situation I just couldn't make the first two classes. Since I have classmates that I've become friendly with taking this class, one has agreed to lend me all her homework and notes for when I take it. She has done the single mom routine and knows what I'm going through with sketchy childcare so she's willing to help. The next one should be a breeze. The sketchy childcare situation is my mom. It's a long story but the short of it is that I feel safer leaving Rowan with practical strangers than I do my mother. I've worried so much over that this last week that I don't want to even think about it anymore.

Then I have an online science class to take and viola! I'm a college grad! I was going to start my MBA in September but I've changed my mind. I'll probably wait until Rowan is in school. I've spent far too much time doing homework, taking her to a sitter just so I can do homework and stressing when I'm not doing homework to want to take on more. I don't have to have it, I just want it so I'll wait.

I feel like an entire year of seasons has passed me by. I'm ready to be outside playing! After tonight and after the move is done at work then I will feel like I have so much free time. I can write at night after monkey goes to sleep, something I've been neglecting (as my readers know). I can hand the baby monitor to Char and go play in my shed! I can read a book for pleasure! I can sweep and mop my house! I can swim!

I'm all kinds of excited.

Her personality shines through more and more each day. I'm amazed at how happy she is. It is astounding. She has a new grin. It is a sly grin that just turns up the corner of her mouth. She laughs, oh how she laughs. She gets excited and bounces and waves her arms around. She can sit up in a tripod position on her own. She falls over often, thinks it is funny. When I hold her hands to pull her back into a sitting position she grabs hold and uses her stomach to help. She loves playing with spoons and we spend half the feeding times wrestling over the spoon. Her new favorite thing on the planet is a chunk of ice wrapped in a bandana. She sucks and sucks until her mouth is like ice. She curls up with the bandanas like a blankie, sucking on them and curled around them. She likes to have one handy at all times. She sat on the backporch in her playpen at Donna's yesterday and watched the birds flying around. She had her boppy to keep her sitting up, a plastic up to bang around and an old cell phone to chatter into. She gets so excited when she sees herself on the computer. I pull up old video clips from when she was tiny and the minute she comes on screen she is bouncing around, all smiles.

She loves men, especially scruffy bearded ones. She'll pet and pat a scruffy face. I don't know where she gets it.

She loves to pull on Smutty's ears. He just lets her. I take her in the shower with me (gotta be careful, soapy naked baby is slippery). She squinches her eyes when the spray hits her and smiles. She loves to talk to her toes. She will sit up so straight and big when I'm reading to her and look at the pages. She loves pop-up books. She has no attention span for the Jolly Mon by Jimmy Buffet and I've only gotten 3 pages in before she is over it. So I sing Jolly Mon to her instead and she smiles. The "ABCD" song will hush her when she is fussy. The word "Fifer Fiffer Fef" from the ABC book by Dr. Suess makes her laugh. I say it all sillly and fast and over and over while goosing her tummy.

She has recently discovered putting her hands in and on the faces and mouths of others. She grabbed my nose the other day and tried to yank it off. One of the little girls at day care comes over to her and pats her on the head. All the other little kids LOVE her and play with her. She is "Row Row" and they all start saying it when she arrives and they say it to me when I come pick her up. I love my daycare.

I'm hearing more and more how much she looks like me, something that sometimes I see, sometimes I don't. She has made some facial expressions lately that have her actually looking like the geneator (sperm donor) recently. I looked at baby pics from when I was about the same age and we do look a lot alike in pics. We didn't when she was tiny but we do now. Except those blue eyes and blonde/red/auburn/constantly changing hair.

I've only spent 4 nights away from her. A friend is in town, two actually. GREEAAATTT timing (sarcasm). I have my preference though and if both were free on the same night I know who I'll pick. Hopefully soon she'll be going to the sitter for a 5th night away. I need another night of shed, talk, music, hugs, beer and cement. Cement might come off of clothes and showers and skin better than oil base paint and besides, I want to make some mosiacs. I started a couple of windows years ago and have not finished them. I want to do that soon. I also have some jewerly ready to solder.

That is me up to date. I need to write down more of what she is doing before I forget. I'll have more time soon. More time to write, more time to move, to stretch, to exercise, to cook, to live.

Life is good.

Gerry will be leaving soon. He is apartment shopping. Like so many, he and his wife are not going to work. He tried though, I saw him do it for months and months. It hurt me to watch someone fight for the woman they loved rather than give up after a couple of weeks. He's been here over 3 weeks and I'm going to miss him. I've grown fond oh having him around. Having two houseboys is awesome, especially when they are both easy on the eyes. And Gerry cooks. Char is going to miss him as much as me.

Now if one of them would hurry up and fix the mower.... my yard looks like shit. Wildflowers. I'm tilling the fucker and planting wildflowers next year.

I'm ready to swim! Ready to have a potluck! Ready to sit on my porch with friends, ready to get in the hot tub when it is fixed. In the meantime, work. School winding up. After the first of July I will have so much free time to spend with Rowan, so much time to do some of the things I want to do. I never knew there were so many hours in the day because I was a sleeper. I'm not a sleeper anymore. In bed about midnight, up by 7. I sleep like a rock these days, I've even become accustomed to the crackle of the baby monitor. I'm springier, spryer, bouncier than I've been in a long time.

It is so good to be happy again. Happy with me, who I am, where I'm going. And where I'm going I'm doing it with Rowan. We might pick up a spare one day but if we don't.... well, we don't. I'll just have to have the occassional painter, singer, climber, biker, writer, lover around for adult evenings and entertainment. Not how I'd like to live but how I'm living. I'll enjoy it while it last and look forward to a day it ends.

And about that ending... there is a part of me that longs for a day when I have love again but there is a part of me that dreads the day when I have to give up T. Oh, he's a permanent fixture as far as friendship goes I'm sure. But one day, I'll meet someone. Scarier than that is one day, he'll meet someone he likes better. I have no problem not being the only as long as I'm one of the ones. I'm thinking he feels the same. I'm selfish and hope I get to give him up before he does me because well... it would hurt me. I would miss what we have (as infrequent as it is) and he fills a spot in my life so well. I enjoy what I have with him and it would be hard to replace.

Too fast too fast

I'll have so much more time to write after the first of July. Until then life is passing me by without recording it. I hate that.

Before I forget....

She took her first backwards step a few days ago. She likes to stand (with support) and has been able to do that since she was tiny tiny (I'm thinking 2 months old or younger). Usually she just stands there with her legs locked swaying back and forth grinning. This time she picked up her leg and took a step back. She did it again yesterday. Backwards again but she's figuring it out. She has figured out that she can move her legs when standing and doesn't have to stand in one spot. She realizes that she can pick them up and put them back on the ground.

Drinking water from a glass this weekend while she was in my lap I noticed she was staring at my glass and opening her mouth for it. So I gave her some water from my glass. She put her little mouth around the glass and sucked it down. Gave her a sippy cup last night and while it comes out a little too fast she wanted it and tried for it. She started reaching for her spoon last night trying to take it away from me. I gave it to her and she waved it around in the air.

And to see her face light up when Smutty comes near... wow. He comes over and buts her head with his, she pulls his ears and tries to pet him. I can't seem to get her to understand that she can't put him in her mouth like she likes to do with her tiny pink fuzzy monkey. She gets excited when Smutty is with us and before I know it she is trying to chew on him. He's a patient kitty.

She has never wanted a paci, turns her nose up at it. I've given up on getting her to take one and don't even try anymore. This means that when she starts crawling and walking she'll pick up everything else and put it in her mouth. Bring on the germs I say. What she does want in her mouth constantly is cloth. She expecially loves bandanas. She is the most content when she has one to chew on and she curls up with them to fall asleep, sucking on them. I worry she'll choke so as soon as she is asleep I prise it from her little fingers. One night she had stuffed so much of one in her mouth it was like a magic trick pulling it out. You know the tricks where the magician pulls hankies out of their palm and it keeps going and going and going? That was my little chipmonk monkey.

She is so beautiful. She is so funny. Seeing her look at things, seeing her personality develop is fascinating.

Still

Rowan turned 6 months old yesterday. It's hard to believe.

I took her in for her checkup. She was her usual self. Charming the other moms and toddlers in the waiting room, grinning at the nurses, cooing and talking and just being happy.

She's a wiggle worm. Not as much as she will be, but she is a baby. Telling those creatures to be still is pointless. I strip her down to be weighted and place her on the scale. She lays still, just looks at us and grins. 17lbs 2 ozs. I put her diaper back on and we go back to our little room.

She is so cute in just a diaper. Funny how I can put all manner of adorable clothes on her and she's the most beautiful in nothing at all or just a diaper.

We loaf in the room waiting for her pedi, Robin to come in. She's flips through her chart and in a disbelieving mournful voice like I use she says "I can't believe she is already 6 months old!" This is the same woman that told a nurse in training once that I was one of the moms she didn't have to worry about. Made my day. She remembers me probably because of where I work. Most people do and always bring it up as a topic of conversation.

I'm sitting on the paper covered table cross-legged with Rowan sitting on her butt in front of me, legs dangling towards the end of the table. I'm holding her around her little tummy and she is just moving the way babies do. Robin comes over with her stethescope to listen to Row's chest and Rowan gets perfectly still. I'm talking not moving anything but her eyes, looking up at Robin. She sat straight as a board and put her arms up, palms up like she was doing a meditation pose and didn't move a muscle while Robin listened to her chest from the front, bent her forward a little so she could hear her back. It was amazing. I swear I have a 35 year old trapped in an infants body. The way she understands things is amazing. It's kinda creepy actually. She does things like that all the time.

Robin leaves, I put Row's clothes back on. The nurses come in to give her shots. I feel like such a traitor but on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the worse horror stories I've heard parents tell of getting shots for their kids my experiences so far have been about a 1. They lay her down flat on her back, me at her head while another nurse was at her feet. I kept my hands on her little arms to keep her from frailing about and the other nurse held down her legs. She looked pitiful being held down like that. She's looking up at me upside down, grinning. She doesn't see what they are doing because she is looking at me. She feels the first shot, I see the needle pierce her skin and the drop of blood well up. I see her face go from Rowan happy to confusion to betrayal to pain. Then she screams. It tugs at my heart strings but I'm such a practical sort that I don't get too worked up about it. They do the next two pricks, put little bandaids on her and I pick her up to cuddle her, pop a bottle in her mouth and silence. 15 to 20 seconds of screaming and then it's suck suck suck with tears on her cheeks.

Z came down to visit tonight. When he got here he gave me the best hug. A real hug, not one of those hi how are you hugs. A hold me tight hug round the shoulders hug. I cherish those. Gerry was grilling, more meat was needed so I asked Char if he'd entertain Row while Z and I went to the store. He said yes so Z and I took off. It feels like I haven't spent much time with him in ages. It was good having him here. Nothing changes between us and it makes me happy. After Z left, after the super dishes were washed and put away and after Rowan was asleep, I hugged Char and thanked him. He kept Rowan happy while I spent time with Z.

Z and I are in Food Lion babbling away. I'm telling him about what a dick Char is because he keeps bringing sweets into the house to taunt me. "I'm finally in a good place emotionally and I'm trying to be physically and he is trying to sabatoge me!" "Oh, did I mention I'm OK?" I asked and gave him a huge hug. He understood what I meant. It took 2 years I told him but I'm fine. He gave me a knowing smile. It was one of those life moments, standing in the grocery store with my boy.

Life is just a series of moments. Some good, some bad. Woven together and well... it's my life. I dig it.

We all sat on the edge of the hot tub tonight dreaming of times when it is running. Cheese balls.

I got lucky. Two great kids in my life. I got lucky.

Even if the oldest tells me WAY too much information. We are close, always have been but geesh. I put my hands over my ears a dozen times singing "Jimmy Crack Corn and I can't hear."

I can't wait to work on the Monthly Monkey! So little time.

Phoenix feathers

Life is going by too fast now. Rowan will be six months old in a week. SIX MONTHS OLD!!! How is this happening? So much is getting by me way too fast and I haven't had time to write it down. Gotta change that.

Cuteness today....

All the little kids at daycare get excited when Rowan comes in. "Row Row!" they cry and come to see her. She just grins.

There is a swing that she likes right in the middle of all the action. When I take her in each morning, I put her in the swing, talk to her until she smiles, then I leave. Usually there is a rattle or toy of some sort in the swing for her to tinker with. Today it was empty so I went poking around for a toy. I said outloud "I need a toy for Rowan to play with." One of the little boys (3 years old maybe) comes over to me with a basket of the perfect size Rowan toys. I select one and thank him. This same little boy brought me my car keys today (I just laid them down when I walked in the door) and put the baby wipes up for me. Precious he is.

I go in the kitchen to talk to the sitter for a bit. While she and I are talking the kids go over and take toys to her. I look at Rowan and she is sitting there in her swing with a stuffed cow and two baby dolls in her lap. Grinning, of course. The way the dolls were on top of her it looked like she had 5 legs.

She sleeps through the night now, has for about 2 weeks. No waking up at 3ish then 5 or 6ish to want food or comfort. At first, I thought my baby monitor was not picking up properly or that I had the sound turned down too low. No, she is just sleeping. The last two mornings she is awake when I go into see why she hasn't woke me up yet (she's awake by 6:50 on the dot most every day) and she is just loafing, looking around being chill.

She greets me with big smiles every morning.

Tonight when I put her down (she was almost asleep) she woke right up. Instead of getting fussy because I woke her up, she saw me standing there above her and gave me her best smile. I was so overwhelmed with love I could hardly see her for the tears. I pulled up a chair and read "Someday" to her. It always makes me cry when I get to the part that says "Someday you will hear something so sad that you will curl into a ball with tears" (something like that).

I'm probably hormonal. I realized tonight that I have not cried because I miss my partner from my previous life in a couple of months. I realized this while I was crying because I miss him. She just smiled at me and I wiped the tears, reminded myself that deep down, she was the reason and finished the story. When I left I kept thinking, kept saying to myself and outloud that in the grand scheme of life I felt I was doing the right thing. I didn't understand why I had that overwhelming need (other than the other problems that we had). I just felt that I had to do it, even though I didn't want to and even though I regretted it instantly. I just felt like something was missing, that something good would come from it. After all the pain and sorrow something did. Her.

I have a friend staying with me right now. He and his wife are going through the motions of ending. When this started several months ago, hearing him talk about it, seeing his pain was hard on me. I couldn't talk to him without being reminded of my own suffering and there was a time or two I told him to stop talking to me about it, told him that I was not the person to tell his troubles to because it hurt me too bad. Now... I'm glad to help. I think of that handful of people who were there for me, there from day one. It had to have sucked for them, I was a mess. It's amazing that I've kept any friends at all these last two years, amazing that I kept the ones that we shared because at first seeing them was hard on us all. Amazing that I kept Z because for a long time I couldn't see or talk to him without falling to pieces. He stuck with me. Everyone did. No, I won't not be here for G through this, no matter how much it reminds me. I'm finally strong enough to share someone else's burden and repay my karma like debt for making my friends suffer while they watched my pain.

She's such a big monkey! She has her 6 month checkup next week. Over a month ago she was 16 lbs. She is at least 19 now I bet if not 20. Yet she's not a chunky baby. No excessive fat rolls. She is hefty though, and solid. She is tall. So tall! All her darker auburn hair has fallen out (except a patch on the back of her head) and she now has strawberry blond hair. Still big blue eyes with flecks of green. She is such a happy baby.

My hormones are still out of whack. Still have horrible skin, still itching myself to death (dry skin my ass... I REALLY need to get to the doc and get on some kind of hormone pills). I'm still HUGE and haven't lost the baby weight. Still flabby in places I was not flabby before, still too many chins. But I'm happy. I'm so happy.

It is so good to be happy again.

I realized something several weeks ago... I did it. I pulled through and made it to the other side. The other side of pain, the other side of loneliness. I'm my Sarky self again. I'm the confident, happy person I was BE (before E). The single gal that wanted to love someone, wanted to be loved but that didn't have to have that. The single gal that could enjoy casual lovers (and oh how I love the Artist friend even if Char did cuss me for days because he was the one that cleaned the paint out of the shower). The single gal who is comfortable alone, who sleeps well alone, who goes to eat alone, who doesn't have to have someone. Have to have and want are different things. What I realized lately is that I did it right. I could have jumped into another relationship, a few I've dated would have loved to love me. But I didn't. I suffered. I suffered hard. I went through the months, the years of having most every breath I took make my heart feel it would explode from the pain. I went through the depression, the stages of grief. I did it and for the most part, I did it alone. I faced pregnancy alone. I took the time to heal and I'll be a better person for it and I sure as hell will be a better person if ever I fall in love again for it. I dealt with my issues. I wrote them down, I pissed and moaned and cried and complained. I dealt. And now... now I feel whole again.

Do I still miss him? Oh yes. Do I still love him? Oh.... yes. But am I OK without him?

Yes. Finally.

Has the pain gone away? No, not really. Watching my friend go through this... he sees me now, sees where I am. He wanted to know what it takes to get there. Time I said. Do I still hurt? Yes. I explained it this way... think of someone with chronic pain. Arthritis, bad joints, back pain. The pain that you have always that never goes away. The pain that when it first appeared was excruciating but that over time, you body learns to live with, adjusts so that it is just a dull pain. A pain that sometimes flares up and hurts bad but for the most part is just there, low grade and not on your mind but always, always just on the edge. That is what it is like. No, the pain is still there. I've just learned to live with it.

I have been listening to Pink Floyd lately. I listened to Wish You Were Here last week without a single tear. I've been able to do so many things that before broke me. Small things really but well, it's the little things that would send me spiraling into the dark place. Now, that place isn't so dark.

I haven't felt this strong in a long, long time.

I feel like a phoenix who finally rose from the ash.

Happy Birthday Dear Blog!

My blog turned 5 years old yesterday.

Five years. That is a lot of living. I'll reread it all one day but now... no.

A friend was giving me hell for not editing more... not working on my spelling, grammar, tense. When I reread something before I post it I will take the time to fix things (if I catch them). I told this to a girlfriend of mine and she said this "That's like bitching at a painter for not loading the paint brushes properly. Who the hell cares?"

Since I write for me, I couldn't agree more. Now, when I get my fiction and erotic pages up... I'll take better care.

Matter of Perspective

“Can you fix it or do I need to call an electrician?” I ask my roommate tonight, looking up at the flickering light fixture in my kitchen. It has been dying a slow death for some time, years maybe. “The valance is the least of your worries” he replies in his always happy to report gloom and doom voice. “You need to be more worried about the rat chewed wires in the attic.”

My house has character, it’s just chocked full of it. Built in 1912 and remodeled who knows how many times, it has been added to, taken from, redone, replaced, jacked up and repainted time and time again. Not a single door frame is square, the floor boards are old and scared and the wiring… well, that is another issue altogether.

“I can fix it” he says, mumbling and rattling off what he would need and what he should do first. I sigh, knowing that if it is fixed it will be many months, if not years down the road. I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong. Not many people I know (none in fact) have a live in “House Boy” as we jokingly call him. Without him, I would be lost. He does all the things that I either a. don’t have time b. don’t have the inclination to do (such as take out the trash and mow the yard) or c. don’t know how to do. He’s truly a jack of all trades. He takes care of what, in traditional households, would be the “man” duties. The before mentioned trash and lawn mowing aside, he does many honey -do projects and generally helps to keep me sane. I wouldn’t trade him for the world.

His gloom and doom attitude towards my house got to me tonight. As he goes through the list of everything that is wrong here and why I should sell and get the hell out of here before my daughter starts school, I see dollar signs. There are projects that to my untrained eye I know need to be done, new windows being the top of my to do list. With power bills reaching $300 dollars this past winter it is imparitive that each one is replaced by winter. Dollar signs. I have a pool, a giant bohemith that is great fun when friends are here to enjoy a refreshing swim or a heated game of water badmitton but a money pit the rest of the time. High on the priority list is a fence around the pool before my daughter starts walking. More dollar signs. With these two high dollar items high on my list of reasons I won’t be taking a vacation anytime soon hearing the liteny of other problems that need attention around my house was a complete downer.

Of course, next week Mr. Gloom and Doom will be talking of how great my place is. He is a fickle beast.

It has rained the last few days like a mini monsoon. While it has been lovely and I very much enjoy the rain, the sky, the wind, when rains like this come my laundry room floods. Seeps might be the more accurate description, either of which make me curse should I venture out there to transfer a load of towels to the dryer in socks. I live at the bottom of a hill and from the top of this hill pours all the water from the ridge behind me. The water was flowing so fast and furious today that I mentioned to the roommate that should I ever sell I could put “Beside a lovely, babbling brook’ in the description. To this he goes into how the water flow problem could be fixed with a backhoe, time, and of course, more money.

Thinking about these things tonight while I’m feeding my soon to be 6 month old daughter, I feel my shoulders slump. There is so much to do, so much that needs to be done and so little time and money to do it. It weights heavy on my mind. While contemplating everything that is wrong that makes me tired, she smiles that gummy toothless grin at me. The one that extends to her eyes and raises her cheeks so high that her eyes are suinced together. It is hard to be down when she is around. Reminds me of a James Taylor song…

Something In the Way She Moves
There's something in the way she moves,
Or looks my way, or calls my name,
That seems to leave this troubled world behind.
If I'm feeling down and blue, Or troubled by some foolish game,
She always seems to make me change my mind.
Chorus: 'N'(and) I feel fine anytime she's around me now,
She's around me now
Almost all the time.
'N'(and) If I'm well you can tell that she's been with me now,
'N'(and) she's been with me now
Quite a long, long time
And I feel fine

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning,
And I find myself careening
Into places where I should not let me go
She has the power to go where no one else can find me,
Yes, and to silently remind me
Of the happiness and good times that I know, you know.
Well I said I just got to know that:
It isn't what she's got to say
Or how she thinks or where she's been.
To me, the words are nice, the way they sound. I like to hear them best that way
It doesn't much matter what they mean,
Weh (when/well?) she says them mostly just to calm me down.
Chorus: 'N'(and)
I feel fine anytime she's around me now,
A-she's around me now
Almost all the time.
If I'm well you can tell that she's been with me now,
And she's been with me now Quite a long, Long Time - Y
Yes, and I feel fine

If someone had told me 3 years ago that I would today be a mother I would have scoffed. If they had added that I would be a single mother… well, that would be unthinkable. Yet here I am.

One minute I’m thinking about all I need, all my daughter is missing out on, all I am missing out on by being without a partner and the next I’m thinking about all I have. Thinking of all I have and feeling extremely foolish and selfish. There are so many single mothers out there who are worried rather or not their child will have food for their next meal while I spent the day preparing and freezing several different flavors of baby food in my new food processor. There are single mothers who don’t take their child to the doctor when they are sick because they have no money while I schedule well visits and have taken her when I’ve been over concerned about a cold. I sat there, looking at my daughter spitting apples and pears all over her, the high chair and me. Thinking about the world beyond my front door and how I’m so fortunate. I read recently about how many mothers will dump the solids from a disposable diaper and then reuse the soiled diaper on their infant because they don’t have the money to buy diapers and here I am worried that between work, school and running her between daycare and other baby sitters that I won’t have time to go to Sam’s where I will buy Pampers in bulk. Why Pampers? Because I tried the cheaper generic versions and they don’t work as well. Me, buying Pampers when some can’t even afford the generic brands.

Ours is a nation of excess and I am no different from anyone else, even though I like to think I am. Yes, I am frugal. Very. I hope to instill in my daughter an appreciation for all that she has. Which, like many other Americans, is a lot. Tonight I’m putting away her clean laundry and realize that I have enough clothes for her to change three times a day for months and never wear the same thing twice. Granted, I still probably spent less on her clothes than many new parents. Everything she has from the hand me down crib to the $3 thrift store lamp is second hand. Very few articles of clothing did I give more than a dollar for and other than a therometer and toiletries everything is used. I jhave so much stuff for her that I almost feel ashamed.

I’m very blessed. “I’ve got it going on for a single woman” I told a friend once. In my mind I’m thinking of my independence while my friend (always the practical sort) says “Yeah, you’ve got that tiller.” I do admit that I have a nice tiller but there is more to life than things. I realized today that I am worried about all of the wrong things. Worried about the broken tile in my kitchen, about when I will have time this week to at least put some tomatoes in the ground even if I don’t do a larger garden. Worried that no one will ever look at me with love in their eyes again, that my daughter will never have a father figure. On my commute to work I often pass by a shelter for women and children. Many times I have gotten stuck behind the school bus as it stops to collect the dozen or more kids from the end of the drive. Each time this happens my heart aches. Having spent a short amount of time in such a shelter as a child I have a small window into what those children feel. When there is that much wrong in the world how dare I feel annoyance when the light in my kitchen flickers?

I have a recliner that a friend gave me a few years back. Like new, it had many more miles to rock. Curled up in “The Big Chair’ as I call it tonight, lights low, ceiling fan whirling above our heads, rain falling softly beyond the open window, I tell stories to my infant daughter. I tell her how the world is a big and wonderful place. There is sadness in it. Loss, grief, and despair. I tell her that there is good. There is kindness and love and so much joy. I talk to her for ages, rocking, looking in her eyes, smiling at her as she smiles at me. I told her I didn’t care what she grew up to be… a doctor, a housewife, a teacher, a traveler, a fireman, a lesbian, a poet, a factory worker, a waitress. I told her I wanted good things for her, wanted her to see the world, to learn all she could, to value education. What I want for her and what she wants for herself may not turn out to be the same things. I told her I wanted her to have fun, to explore, to experience and to be who she wants to be. I told her I didn’t care who she becomes as long as she is kind. As long as she is a good person. That is the most important thing I want for her. To be a good person.

With her as my inspiration, I hope to be a better person myself.

Growing so fast!

So much is getting away from me before I can write it down.

She sat in her high chair at Donna's the first time this past weekend. Tonight, she sat in the high chair for the first time at home. She looks like such a big girl! She loves apples and pears but isn't too keen on the sweet taters. I'll try those again in a few weeks.

Actually, I like her apples and pears. And sweet taters. The next time I make food I'm making enough for both of us.

She has a plastic hand held monkey that is part of the fisher price jungle theme stuff. Tonight, I showed it to her and for the first time she seemed interested. She reached for it, put it in her hand and swung it around. The last few days she has taken to banging one arm about and waving it wildly. A plastic monkey in the Monkey's hand is a dangerous weapon. I moved the monkey out of sight and she fussed. I didn't realize that was why she fussed until I gave it back and she stopped. Monkey out of sight.... Rowan starts fussing... Monkey in sight.... Rowan chill.

Keep on Ridin'

I skipped class tonight to be well. This is the email I sent my professor…

I will not be in class tonight. I could lie and say that I am ill but I am actually quite well. Work has been pure stress the last two weeks, my 5 month old was sick last week. She got over that and started teething (did I mention I’m a single mom?) and I’ve been running myself ragged for weeks (months actually) without a break. I’m taking a break. This is a spur of the moment decision but as I dropped Rowan off at the sitter just now I realized that if I don’t take a mental health day soon I’m going to have a meltdown so tonight after I finish my homework and email it to you I’m going to be working in my shed building a stained glass window, drinking beer and listening to music. See you next Thursday.

I don’t’ feel guilty about this at all. If I had one ounce of guilt it would be that Rowan is with my mother and maw Powers thinks I’m in class.

I finished my homework. I haven’t spent much time in my shed well…. In over two years. I’m long overdue.

I walk out the door, beer in hand. Dos Equis is not the best without lime but I’m working with what I have here. It starts to rain. The world smells so fresh, the grass looks so green, the sky so beautiful. I hear thunder in the distance and I smile. Perfect.

I put music in and putter about. The rain gets a little heavier and I turn it off so I can hear the rain on the tin roof of the barns. I remember a time when a hail storm came out of nowhere when E and I were sitting up at the pool. We heard what sounded like a gunshot and by the time we ran to the house quarter size pieces of ice were falling from the sky. The gunshot was a piece hitting the roof of the barn. I remember a small video made with the camera that recently turned pink and died, remembered photos of the large chunks in my hand while the camera flashed. Remembered standing on the porch, marveling at the storm. I smiled at the memory.

I putter some more, the rain slows and I turn music back on. I put in Marc Cohn, a favorite. While walking in Memphis is playing I look out the door and realize the sun is shining, the rain is falling and it is the perfect makings for a rainbow. I go outside, peaceful and content as I walk around my yard in the rain. I must have been a sight to anyone driving by… long tye dye skirt, green as the grass t-shirt (v-neck of course) hair wild about my head, safety glasses perched like a crown on my head, ugly comfy crocs and an African print apron. Just standing in the middle of my yard, looking at the sky, the trees. Watching a bird flitter in and out of a bird house on one of my pecan trees.

I think wow… I live here. I need to start living here more. For the better part of the last 2 years it was just a building. It was a haunted house filled with shadows and ghosts. Recently that veil has lifted and it has become home again. I’ve been thinking of moving to Tennessee lately so I can attempt to put Rowan into CSAS but then realized that I’m stuck for at least 3 years until a loan that is a huge chunk each month (that is paid by the ex) falls off of my credit. No way could I sell and move right now, especially in this economy. I’ve realized lately that I don’t want to move. I’ve been here almost 7 years now and while for a long, long time all I wanted was to walk away and never have to pull into that lonely driveway again, now I want to be here. All the time. I want to be home.

I realized tonight I need to start living here more. I need to not be so confined to the few rooms that I use. I have a lovely living room, cozy and comfy yet I don’t recall the last time I sat on the couch. I have a screened in back porch that hasn’t seen use in quite awhile. Rowan’s room, kitchen, bath, my room. That is where the living is. And the yard? I feel like I haven’t touched it, haven’t looked at it in years.

It’s time to live here again. I want to feel the earth in my hands, play with my pitchfork. I want to dangle my feet in the pool and light my tiki torches. I want to sit around the fire with friends. I want to watch the birds go in and out of their houses. I want to be part of my home again, not just take up space in it.

I have a beautiful place. Looking at it tonight for the first time in a long time, I see the beauty here. Sure, I see the flaws. The misc shit Char has piled in the yard. He recently added an old desk to the fire pit. I must have a fire soon to get shut of the unsightly thing. I could stand to do some cleaning, some minor landscaping (I like a natural look) but it is lovely here. I walked up to the pool. It is clear and blue and after one good brush down and vac will be ready to go. I smile at my barn, at the horse in the pasture next door. At the cats lazing around the yard, licking themselves. I return to my shed.

The next song is “Ghost Train” on the Marc Cohn CD. I’ve listened to it dozens of times but never LISTENED to it. How fitting that this song should be what I return to my shed.

Everybody talks about some fateful day
And I guess that this was mine
I may be here to tell some kind of story
But I think it's gonna take a little time
(That's all right)
See I'm rockin' in a cradle
Down the hall somewhere and I am--
Lost inside a dream
Maybe I am falling
Maybe I am flying
But I know if I am crying she is
Holding me

And then the sky broke up
And then the rain came down
And it washed away everything on the ground
Wash it away
Wash it away
Wash it away

Now baby's got that bottle
Filled up with lightning and rain
He keeps calling out for someone
But she's riding on a train
Riding on the ghost train
And she keeps on riding S
he's gonna keep on riding
Mama keep on riding Keep on riding

Some trains they leave in the morning
Some leave in the afternoon
Some trains they leave here
Right on time
And some they just leave too soon

Way too soon
But I'm gonna keep on riding

It feels good feeling good again. It feels good to be happy. It still feels bad when I hurt, when a memory catches me off guard or when I think of what I lost. But then I think of what I have and I’m overwhelmed with joy.

My rainbow never appeared despite the fact that the conditions were right. That is OK…. I know there is another rainbow at my parent’s house right now, chewing on her fist.

The Monthly Monkey (late as usual)

Mom is seriously slacking on this Monthly Monkey deal. It's been almost two months! She has her reasons I guess. She works, goes to school, does homework. She drives me all over hell and half the world between babysitters. She got sad one day and told Nana that sometimes she feels like all she does is drive me from one persons house to the next and doesn't get to see me enough. It's not fair, really this whole mommy working for a living. But it could be worse, she says. She could be home with me all the time but then we'd not get to do the cool things we'll get to do one day. She likes it this way. Paying bills isn't fun but neither is no power. Besides, I get to play with lots of people and I'm such a social butterfly that I like it that way. I don't meet a stranger and mom is happy about that.


She's slacked on picture taking the last month (well, two months really). She went a few weeks without a camera when the turning everything pink camera bit the dust. She finally broke down and ventured into retail hell (Best Buy) and bought another one and hark! Look at my rosy cheeks. Real pink this time, not bad camera.
Mommy with her morning nectar of the gods (Diet Pepsi) and me with a bottle. She didn't dress us in the same color intentionally but it did make us look cute. Aunt Donna says the true nectar is beer. Mommy agreed.
This thing is called a Bumbo. Mommy says it is the coolest thing ever because I can sit up all by myself. Mommy puts me in this contraption when she is "practicing" giving me grown up food. So far all we've had has been cereal and avocado. The green stuff tasted familiar, like boob. Mom eats a lot of it.
This is the month of the mohawk. I've had one from the get go but it seems like mom got lots of good pics this month.


I'm getting more like mommy everyday it seems. In this photo I'm thinking "Take it off! Take it off!" Mommy can't stand having things around her neck. Ever noticed she is almost always in a v-neck shirt? There is a reason for that.

Sweet? Errrr...
One hand is mommy and the other is the other mommy. Aunt Donna that is. They love me.
Peaking over moms shoulder after a bath.

Back in my bumbo.

This is my big brother Z and his mommy. He's still not sure what to think of me but I am such a charmer I'll wrap him around my finger soon.
This was taken right after mom pointed out that she and the WIL might be grandmas in the next few years. They are far too young and Z better TCOB or mommy will be displeased.
I discovered that rubbing my eyes does nothing but make my eyes red. Well, that and signals to mom ENOUGH. Nap time.



I hate the car seat. He is my biggest enemy. I hate him hate him hate him. Mom insists on straping me into that beast everywhere we go. It is rude I say. Mom says one day I won't need him anymore but until then buck up. She pointed out that like it or not (then she got quiet a minute) I'll have to be in him apx 4000 more times assuming twice a day for the next 5ish years. She does weird math sometimes. Hopefully I'll be be enough by then to leave him behind but at the rate the child safety laws keep making the age/weight older and bigger I'll be 38. Don't tell mom that though, she'll try to do the math.
Aunt Tams got me this shirt. Mom says it's a cute top. She wants to borrow it. She says "Let me borrow the top" all the time. It's my very first music t-shirt. John Prine "Quit Hollerin' at Me." A great song. Mom was singing "Please Don't Bury Me" when she took this. It's a great song to learn my toes, knees, nose and ears to. Mom got me another music t-shirt at a yardsale last week. My very first AC/DC t-shirt. It's pink with AC/DC in diamonds. It will match my mohawk wonderfully.

Mom says the trouble with the "Just you and me kid" way of life is that there are very few pictures of us together. This makes mom sad. She does her best though and tries to take pics of us herself. They don't turn out so good on her part (too many chins) but she'll snap enough and sometimes get at least once that has us both in the picture. My uncle Char loves me. He talks to me and says "I see you grinning" all the time. He'll hold me so mom can pee or cook supper. He even "Took one for the team" as mom put it when a friend of moms came to visit one night. I got to sleep most of the night in uncle Char's room. Mom was very grateful. I was super good so she is hoping Char will offer that favor again and that she'll have a reason for him to offer up such a favor. Mom smiled for days.

I wore this dress to Mal and Gregs wedding today. Mom dressed me up in it to see if it would still fit. It is just one of the many pretty things I grew out of before I got to wear it. I wore it today though and showed my belly when I could.
t
I went through 4 days with my tongue out. Constantly. Mom was beginning to think the old saying "If you make that face it will freeze that way" was true. Seriously, 4 days.



I like to fly over mommy's head. Of course she doesn't like it when she sees the slober falling. I've got her good a few times but she still doesn't mind doing the Rowan press. Says it builds the muscles in her arms and I like it.

I'm a cowgirl in charge!
Next month I'll pose on a bearskin rug. Just as we were getting ready to leave for the wedding today I got sleepy. Mom had just plucked me from a bath, fed me a bottle and wrapped me in this blanket in her lap waiting until the last minute to put my dress on (I tend to spew). She put me in my crib wrapped up and went to put her dress on and finish getting ready. When she returned, I was out.

I smile all the time but the minute I see mom with the camera I put it away. This is making her nuts. Perhaps next month she will have more luck with grins. Next month we will have adventures in the new walker, the new doorway jumper thingie and with food.

Until next time...

The Monkey.

100 questions

These are fun to fill out. If you do it often and go back and read it it is fun to see what you are up to at one point. I filled out one on myspace years ago and when I went back to reread it years later, I smiled. Cried too but smiled.

100 questions

Category: Life

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
From barbed wire. Crossing a fence to skinny dip when I was 14

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
Absolutely nothing. It is the most unadorned room in my house. I love it.
3. DO YOU SNORE, GRIND YOUR TEETH, OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP?
Snore I think. Ask Rowan.

4. WHAT TYPE OF MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
My kind

5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
Actually, no. How odd.

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
My daughter to stay healthy and happy

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?
Lots of little things

8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION(S)?
That is hard. I don't prize many possessions but I guess I'm rather fond of my teeth.

9. HOW TALL ARE YOU?
5'9

10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
Nope. I like tight places. Love to cave. I napped in closets when I was a child.

11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Sometimes but only after nightmares... or if the closet door is open

12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
No one has made me cry in a long time I've done it all to myself.

13. WHAT'S YOUR WORST FEAR?
Losing people I love (stole that from Rachel) and porta pottys.

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
I don't have a preference.

15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF PROPOSING?
Proposing what? (again, stolen from Rachel)

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
Neither. Hot tea, water, beer (snobby beer) or Diet Cherry Pepsi for me.

17. FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Feta, spinach, garlic, mushrooms

18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
That favorite pizza or a Cadbury egg. Oh... they should make white chocolate cadbury eggs...

19. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME?
Gray

20. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?
Buckets. And they were crunchy.

21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU EVER RECEIVED?
A ring from a great aunt when I was about 6.. gold with hears and tiny red stones and I lost it shortly there afterwards and cried and cried. I got a super cool pitchfork and a porch swing once, those were nifty.

22. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?
Not a super fun one but I crush on all manner of folks... fantasies more like

23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
Sadly, no but my stepson is. Freakazoid.

24. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
Anything that is 100% linen

25. WHO IS YOUR FAV FEMALE/MALE CELEBRITY?
Don't have a favorite female but I loves me a Robin Williams.... purr

26. DO YOU HAVE A PET RIGHT NOW?
Way too damned many... anyone need a kitty?

27. WHAT KIND IS IT?
Them. The rotten kind

28. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
Obviously

30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
13. My favorite

31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Both. I like redheads too.

32. FAVORITE QUOTE?
I have so many.... Not all who wonder all lost.... Say what you mean because those who matter don't mind and those who do don't matter... It takes a long time to grow an old friend... I always carry my journal with me. One should always have something sensational to read.....Oh Felicia where the fuck are we?

33. FAVORITE PLACE?
That would have to be classifications. The place I was most happy? The most beautiful? The most peaceful? Many pops to mind but I would have to say Sunrift Gorge in Glacier National Park pops to mind

34. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA?
Yes. Mexico, Canada, Peru and just a toe away from Boliva

35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Food. Draft Beer. Hands. Beautiful hands.

36. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?
Famous to me... Guy Clark, Steve Earle, Jenene Garafalo, Verlon Thompson, ... seems like I'm missing someone

37. FIRST JOB?
Weinee cook at Lake Winnie

38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
Yes but not in my adult life. I'm long overdue

39. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOULMATE?
I know they do and I'm hoping that I'm lucky enough to have two in this life. Keeping my fingers crossed.

40. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT?
Dreading my homework

41. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?
Yes. I had a Ripababyfromme.

42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
My personality in round about ways. Other then that I guess my hair. Used to be legs but ah, I'm old.

43. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?
No

44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
Hmmm... I should start thinking. It's only 9 months away

45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT AND THEIR NAMES?
I admitted to myself today that yes, I'd like to have another... I don't want to be pregnant again but I'd suffer through it. I love being a mommy.

46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
A vampire from some cheesy 70's movie or TV show. Seriously.

47. WHAT IS THE BIGGEST TURN OFF OF THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Small mindedness. Stinky BO. Not all BO, just the stinky kind.

48. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU LIKE(D) ABOUT HIGH SCHOOL?
Skipping it

49. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?
Whatever is onsale at Big Lots that smells good

50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Not really

51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
That elcheapo Carl Budding Beef

52. ANY BAD HABITS?
Too many to mention. Ask my friends, they will tell you my bad habits and I'll not even know I had them.

53. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON
Nope.

54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Absolutely. I like me. A lot.

55. DO YOU AGREE WITH FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS?
Yes and I say the more, the merrier.

56. DO LOOKS MATTER?
To some degree yes. But what I find attractive in someone isn't always what the norm is

57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?
Like Rachel I rant and if I'm really mad I cry. Oh, and I write. Always write.

58.WOULD YOU RATHER GAIN 58 POUNDS OR LOSE 58 POUNDS.
Lose, of course. I'd like to start with my chin(s)

59. WHAT'S YOUR MAIN GOAL IN LIFE?
Now it is raising my daughter to be a strong woman

60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
I loved this little plush log thingie with woodland creatures in it and I have no idea what it was called. I'd love to have one.

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
More then I'll ever call

62.WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID?
He was after my time but Z was. His first word was BeBop I'm told.

63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Who me? Never.

64. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
Both

65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Someone I can talk to, who makes me laugh and who pushes my buttons in the right way. Now if I could find one that does all three at the same time...

66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
The ones I KNOW are Danella (old one), Dee, EPTSS, Evil Cuntess, The Enemy, hmmmm... wonder what I'm missing.

67. FAVORITE SUPER POWER?
I want to fly. Someone asked me recently a. if I would kill myself if I were terminally ill and the road would be a long, painful one and b. if so, how would I do it. a. Yes. Without a doubt and b. I would find a high, high, high cliff. One higher then any in this country and I would jump. I would fly

68. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOWS?
Buffy, Gossip Girl (sigh), Oz, Sopranos, X Files. That is the extent of shows I've ever followed. Who has time for TV?

69.WHAT'S THE BEST WAY TO DEAL WITH YOUR ENEMIES?
Not make any

70. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
Praline

71. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?
For now

72. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM?
In my lap even

73. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?
Doing homework, watching my baby sleep and eventually sleeping

74. WHERE DO YOU WANT TO LIVE WHEN YOU ARE OLDER?
I will live in Oregon one day, even if only for a few months. I also intend to spend time in Ireland and a place that has a tropical climate such as Costa Rica or parts of Mexico. I will live in a foreign country one day, even if only briefly.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Everyone should waste as much time as me

76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
Fans blowing and baby snoring

77. LAST THING YOU DRANK?
Vanilla soy milk.

78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My boss oddly enough

79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Smile. Always the smile

80. WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME?
Other then be with Rowan, work in my shed (ha! None of that lately) and spend time with my peeps at my house doing what we do

81. FAVORITE THING TO HATE?
Electronics

82. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR?
Fall. Then Spring. Then summer. I could live without winter altogether

83. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF CANDY?
Sweettarts. The big chewy ones

84. HAVE YOU EVER REALLY AND TRULY HAD A BEST FRIEND?
Yes I have. I'm more fortunate in the friends department then anyone I've ever known.

85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
Brown again. I think all the red is gone. When was the last time I looked at my head?

86. EYE COLOR?
Brown. Some say poop, I say dark aged whiskey

87. SHOE SIZE?
9.5 but if you are buying me a pair of new Chacos (which Kevin did at the baggage store for 35$ but that evil wench Donna bounded off with them) then I wear a 9

88. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
At the moment KFC. I can't get enough of fried chicken lately. Oh and Moe's is fastfood I think.

89. FAVORITE RESTAURANT?
Most Mexican places and Carrabas.... hmmmm... Carrabs

90. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
Not at all. Too sticky

91. WATCH TV TODAY?
No. Nor the day before that... or the day before that. Seriously folks there is a whole world beyond TV. Why, there is silly ass surveys!

92. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
My birthday. Or at least the day it is celebrated on. I dig my birthday.

93. PLAY ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?
I'm not typing the first thing that came to my head so no, I don't.

94. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?
Would have to say Democrat if those are my only options.

95. KISSES OR HUGS?
Both. And then more kisses and hugs

96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?
Relationships. One night stands just don't hold an appeal anymore

97. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?
A giant stack of books and a birthday present for my artist friend that I hope he doesn't already have....

98. WOULD YOU EVER BE A HOUSEWIFE?
Once I would have said no but now... hell yes. Me, the kid. Cooking, cleaning (some days) and time in the shed? Bring it on.

99. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
Managerial Finance (joy) Public Enemies by Bryan Burroughs. It's a book about the birth of the FBI (seriously, I'm into history lately). Finished J.D. Robbs recently and I'll read bits and pieces of the God Delusion until I can quote it by heart.

100. DESCRIBE YOUR LOVE LIFE:
Nonexistent but there is always hope. If not hope then its always good to have FWB (even though Rachel apparently doesn't agree with it)

Finally Gonna Do It

I've batted back and forth the idea of having a blog devoted to my fiction. Not just my fiction, but my erotic fiction. Problem is, a great deal of what I write isn't fiction. Oh, some of it is but even the fiction has a deep root in fact. I'm going to dig out my old stuff, spiff it up and post it.

I've been well.... inspired recently to write. After such a long famine I've found that recent events are more clear in my mind, more crisp and because of the newness of that, I'd like them to stay that way, even after they are long forgotten. So I've been writing. The artist friend is my own personal muse.

Still not ballsey enough yet. Still working on my confidence to share my fiction, share my fiction that is some embellished fact.

Anyone interested in reading such drivel or should I just keep that shit to myself?

Oh, and if I do this it will be invitation only. I won't link this blog to me, won't have it searchable to be found and traced to me. It will be shit that I don't want anyone who doesn't know me OR who knows me but not so that I'd want them to read my shit. I don't care if strangers read it, would get a kick out of thinking about that in fact. So if anyone wants to read this filth (and make no mistake there will be a great deal of that) leave a comment. Once I start it, I will send you a link.

A. Read alone (or with someone fun)
B. Be prepared to blush (or just tell yourself it is all fiction and you'll never know the fact from fiction)
C. Don't judge.

I find myself with time lately after the Monkey goes to sleep. If I'm good on homework, good on housework OR just not willing to do either of those, I want to start writing. A lot. A few pages each day if I can swing it. My next goal after I finish my MBA is to publish something. Anything, even if just a magazine article. I want my words in print. My actual words, not just words that meet a style or format. My words.

That is my next personal goal that I'm tossing in the hat with the others... good mom, good friend, MBA, good employee, good person.

Good writer. I want to be a better writer. Part of that means taking the time to actually read back over my shit closely. I won't do that much with my personal reflections, with this blog but with my stories written for the sake of a story yes... I'm going to try to be better.

Fixings for a Good Evening

I just spent $32 dollars on cheese, white chocolate and three different kinds of beer.

Here's hoping for a fun, adult evening.

Here's hoping Rowan sleeps like a rock.

Dry the Rain

I dreaded today. Watched it come closer on the calendar week by week, day by day. As it approached, I made plans with Donna to have a cooking day. A distraction, I thought. Just what I need.

As today came closer and closer, I realized I had far too much shit to do to have the luxury of a pity party day. I canceled with Donna and made plans to get my mountains of homework done. I ended up sleeping at moms last night (grrr). I worked until 10 and when I got off tornado warnings were being blasted every which way. I drove to her house to get the Monkey only to find that mom and Rowan had been spending the evening in the hallway. She is terrified of tornados, I think she watched the Wizard of Oz too many times. She's probably worried a house will fall on her.

I could strangle my dad for not being there, I really wanted to come home. Atara (Tazi), Char's stripped cat was killed in the road yesterday. Tazi was his Zero. He is much manlier than I and I know he probably didn't fall apart the way I will when Zero goes to the great litter box in the sky, probably didn't curl up like a human had died as I did the night I took Daisey to have her put down but still... I wanted to come home and hug him.

I left Rowan with Maw N Paw this morning and came home to finish my homework. I was back to pick her up by 1:00 and then had the entire day to play with my monkey. We took a long nap in the big chair, did lots of laughing and talking and rolling around. She had her first food today (other then cereal). Nothing like a green faced avocado covered baby to brighten the world.

I cooked a pot of Mexican chili (his highness Char ate two bowels, said it was the best thing I've ever cooked. He hates my cooking). Did laundry, loafed around the house. It was nice to be home for a change. I love my time on the mountain but it was good to be home.

I kept waiting. Waiting for a wave of despair, wave of sorrow, wave of loneliness, wave of missing and longing and all that has been to hit me, to knock me down. Kept waiting to hear a song or see a photo, kept waiting for it to happen.

It's close to midnight. The pain never came.

I cleaned out a cabinet today. Found a stack of coupons that expired in 2003. Wow, I thought. I've been here a long time. There are still spots in this house that haven't been touched, still things waiting for me to find them, still nuggets and memories tucked away. I found a few today when organizing, getting more and more pieces of my home in order now that so much has been changed and is finally starting to be done. This house is more and more mine every day. No, scratch that. It's been mine for a long time.

The pain never came. It's been getting better, so much better. My buddy K was right... Rowan saved me.

I have a good friend who is Pagan. She is into more earthyness then I, knows more than me. A few months after E was gone she was here for a swim. My house freaked her out. Same thing happened to Crackola. This would have been July 07. They both (different days, they don't even know each other) found my house scary and disturbing. There was a blackness here. Desperation and despair, unhappiness and negative energy. I knew it. I felt it. I lived it. For months. Alone. It was the unhappiest place on earth for me to be for many months.

After that visit, Noelle gave me some sage to burn. She gave instructions, told me what to do. It sat on the microwave for months, untouched. I just didn't have the heart, it didn't seem right. One day, I did light it. Told her about it. Felt almost good, but it was half hearted and I didn't go through the motions she told me to. I did in a room or two but not enough to feel good about it. Even then while burning it, it didn't smell good to me. Smelled off, smelled wrong and while the smoke was in the air I couldn't focus on the happy thoughts. I just thought of the loss.

Rowan is moving from bottles to spoons, storage cups and not long now, sippie cups. I needed a place to put them. I've been meaning to clean out the coffee cup cabinet for ages. So much stuff in there that isn't used, so much just tossed in. At some point the sage moved from the top of the microwave to the coffee cabinet. I found it, pulled it out and smiled.

Char came into the kitchen as I was making my choice. "Do you mind the smell of sage?" I asked, hoping the answer was yes. I give him hell but I don't want to run him off. He likes it. I told him about Noelle giving me the sage, gave a brief story of the blackness that was this house. He remembers those days well as he witnessed the worse of it. He kept me sane, kept me whole, kept me alive during my darkest hours. (And as I typed that, tears welled but for gratitude, not sadness). I asked him if he knew what it was for. "To ward of boogey men" he said. Something like that, I responded. I told him how I wasn't ready before, how now... well, they have been warded off for awhile now. I just wanted to burn the sage and seal the deal.

"He's not welcome here anymore" I told Char as I left the kitchen, headed to my bedroom.

Rowan was asleep in my room. I had a lighter in the top drawer of my dresser, put there just last week with the intent of lighting a candle in my room to set a mood (a candle I never got around to lighting, too distracted). I started in here, going to each corner, thinking happy thoughts as I went. Thoughts of the future, thoughts of my day with her, memories of the past. Good memories.

It isn't that he isn't welcome anymore. The him I knew, the memories, the good. The ones before the pain, the ones before the cruelity, the ones before he hurt me, hurt Z, hurt Tams. The ones before he changed. Those memories are welcome. Those memories will always be welcome. The love I felt, the love I feel still. That is still welcome. But the negative, the hurt, the memories of the pain, the regret, the negative thoughts... none of that is welcome.

Driving home in that downpour last night I told myself I would try not to cry today. Told myself that everything is so much better, wonderful in fact. It was raining so hard, I was going 30 on I-75 and it felt as if I were doing 90. Driving down Cloud Springs Rd in the downpour the thought came to me... I don't have to cry tomorrow, the sky is crying for me. It felt like I had shed that many tears, memories of crying so hard and violently, as violent as the storm came to me. I thought again... the sky is crying for me and at that moment I literally drove out from under the cloud. Or at least I must have because the downpour went from a monsoon to just a normal, light rain. I was almost to the road that turns off to go to Tams house. I had left the storm behind.

A year ago today I was in Mexico Beach. Donna bitching at me for not drinking much (I didn't have a taste for it, felt tired and crampy. Pregnant and didn't know it). I was distracting myself in a place that I had shared with him. Two years ago today... if I thought about it too hard, thought about the words spoken, the words he wrote the next day, the cats behavior, the packing, Kermit, that last kiss on the forehead... no, I won't write of that, won't think about it beyond what I just wrote. And then, 2 years before that, 4 years ago today hand in hand in Mexico drinking drinks by color and smoking Cuban cigars.

A year from today... who knows. I just know that next year I won't need a distraction. I made it through today, dry eyes, happy, light heart and a smile on my face here in minutes when I fall asleep beside my mohawk monkey. She's asleep, hands above her head in a pink fleece sack with a white bunny on it, hair clean and sticking straight up as if she has her hands on one of those static balls.

And my house... it smells so good tonight.

I love the smell of sage.

Another Before I Forget

There is a little boy at Rowan's daycare that has the opposite temperment than Rowan. He's always fussy, always raising hell and jealous as he can be. He will be calm (sometimes) and then see Rowan and immediately start crying and raising hell. He can't stand to see someone else holding her. I think he is about 7 months old. He is as beautiful as he can be but that little dude is never happy.

I take her to the sitter today and she is sitting on the couch with this little boy laying beside her looking up at us. He is calm. I hand Rowan off to the sitter and Rowan just looks down at him with a "I'm too cool for all of this look." He starts crying. She starts grinning at him, looking him directly in the eyes. He starts SCREAMING (someone is being held and it isn't him). She starts cackling. Laughing her little butt off at him. This goes on... him raising hell, her laughing at him.

I told her she is a bully. No wonder the little guy doesn't like her.

I love that little monkey.

Before I forget

This past week milestones...

Rowan has discovered fart sounds. She sits and puckers her lips, blowing bubbles or just making noise. She can get loud, does it often and once she gets started it's fart city. Just as Crackola says... I don't care who you are, farts are funny.

She laughs. Oh, how she laughs. Loud and deep.

She frets some in the night, moving about and such. I don't swaddle her at night anymore, stopped about a month ago. She sleeps fairly well through the night without it and since it has been so much warmer I don't want her to overheat. I've been putting her in zipper style sleepers that are a sack. Perfect for baby snoozing.

When she doesn't sleep on her side, she sleeps with her arms straight above her head. Sometimes she'll get to waving them about and wake herself up. Her solution? She just puts her hands under her head. She looks like she is getting ready to do a sit up.

Love love love my monkey.

Just What I Needed

I don't think last night could have been more perfect. My intent was to work half a day, take vacation hours and come home just to work on my homework. I have a research paper due today that I still have to do the finishing touches on but I have 3 more hours. I have time to blog... I hope. I didn't get to leave as early as I'd hoped os by the time I got home and got started it was already 4:00. Naturally, I didn't get as much done as I'd hoped but again... I have 3 more hours.

I was so jazzed to have a grown up evening. I found myself missing Rowan immensely during the afternoon but as the evening wore on I realized I can do this! I can take a night to myself every now and then and not feel guilty, not miss her so much it is crushing. I also had concerns about how it seems that brain cells die after a baby. Less sleep, less time to learn new things, less time to read and converse about things none poop and giggles related. I was able to be a grown up for HOURS and only talk baby a few times. I feel like I've jumped over a hurdle.

The artist friend (whose company I've been craving like water) called to say he was on his way and making a pit stop for beer. I know him well enough to add at least an hour to his stated arrival time (I can think of one time when he was on time) so I knew I had time to kill. I had taken great care to put away all my homework scattered across my bed and bedside table in my room. Out of sight, out of mind anxious that I should be working on it. I had de-babied my bedroom. Not because I don't love my daughter and didn't want her things around, but because I wanted an adult evening with all baby stuff out of sight. Homework was out. I had already taken a long, hot bath and spent more time grooming then I ever have in the past. I wanted to be smooth, smell wonderful, feel wonderful. For me mostly as I've discovered my feminine side finally at 34. Not high maintenance girlie by no means but I must say I do have some super smooth sexy feet.

The day was lovely and I wanted to be outside. I sat on the porch where I had a wonderful thought.... my shed. I haven't done anything in the shed in almost a year. The last day I worked in the shed I cleaned and organized the hell out of it so that when I did get back it would be spiffy. I had forgotten that I had done that until I walked in and was blown away by how nice it is. Man, I miss it. But so many memories. Memories of just walking from the shed to the house are hauntings of my previous life. But still... it is mine. All mine. I love my space. Doors open, night air coming through, music blaring, sound of scoring glass. I was in heaven and as predicted, he was late. When he arrived I was bouncing around to the Floating Men, singing at the top of my lungs looking very sexy in big ass safety glasses and an apron. I told him the next time we get together will be a shed night. He liked the idea.

He offered to fetch me a beer, telling me the three kinds he bought, asked which I'd prefer. "Bring one of each" I said. I took a swig of mine, he of his then we traded to try the other and then promptly switched back. I only had about 3 beers last night but they tasted wonderful, one of which was Guiness on draft. Ah. Beer.

We made it downtown about 10 and had dinner on the porch at Hair of the Dog. A great place. Good food, good beer on draft and well... porch. We had the best waitress who was fun to talk to and other then one other couple had the entire outside to ourselves. What is wrong with people? Sure it was a little chilly but it felt wonderful. Much better then the smoke filled insides of the place.

We parked in the lot by Big River and walked the short blocks to HOTD, passing Rhythm and Brews. I didn't tell him about things that had happened there on a brick wall. Didn't tell him about all the nights spent there talking of passion, drinking pitchers of sunshine, dancing with cowboys, losing earrings and just plain being happy. I just told him I'd been there. A lot. I made the pretense of looking at the upcoming show posters on the door to peak inside, to look into the window of my previous life, to see more ghosts. Ghosts that I felt last night, were everywhere around me and for one, brief moment felt crushing. But only for that brief moment. The rest of the time, they were just there.

Funny how time marches on yet so much stays the same for me, so much is familiar. It isn't just this house, my job, homes of others, places I go to often. It is the faces on the street, the streets themselves. The other couple on the porch with us, the dude was one that I've seen at every Floating Men show since the beginning of time it seems. He plays locally in a band and opened for the Men once. I don't know him, don't know his name only his face. Sandy, the bicycle riding, flower selling, smiling old man who roams the bars selling flowers was there. I saw him ascending the stairs coming to us and my heart stopped. He walks over, all smiles and hands me a lovely yellow flower. I had no cash, T didn't know him or his story. He smiles at me (I think he got new teeth since the last time I saw him) and goes on to the next table. He has given me a flower every time I've ever seen him and I think I only had cash on me once. The next time I go downtown I am going to be sure to take a twenty with me and I'm giving it to him. I wonder if anyone has ever written a story about him, if he has ever appeared in any of the local rags. I'd love to talk to him, to hear of his life, to put it into words. He is such an amazing character to me, as part of all of my downtown nightlife experiences as the air itself.

I don't know why seeing Sandy and that other guy should haunt me, should be ghosts of E. They were part of my life downtown before he came along. The dark haired guy was there singing along at the shows before I introduced E to the Men. Sandy was there 10 years ago at the Pickle Barrel every night on that porch rather it was nights with Gerry, the first meeting of Michael, groups of friends or just Crackola and I. And the Stone Lion, always there. Yet seeing them, breathing that night air, walking those bricks down the street reminds me of the previous life, not the life before it.

Even with these ghosts that still linger, I'm happy. I was happy last night. I was bouncy when he got here. I don't think he has a concept of how happy I was to see him, to be with him, to just be a woman and not just a mom. To stand in the yard outside my shed under the stars in a hug. On a mental level I connect with him more so than anyone I've been with since the split. I have no delusions about him, no visions of a bright and happy future with hearth and home. None whatsoever. Yet I care about him a great deal and know without a doubt that he is a permanent fixture in my life. We talked about that last night, about how some people are jealous and can't handle their honies having old lovers as friends. That is one of the many good things about E is that he never let it bother him and if he did, he never showed it. They became his friends too. I made a promise to T. If that lucky day comes and I have love in my life again he'll still be in it. He knows that and I know he'd keep me as well. Long after the physical is gone, long after the attraction and lust for someone is gone, I still can love them and be close friends. I'm blessed that I've kept who I have and I have so many and it seems that in my search to find what I lost, I'm accumulating more.

I had moments of shyness which is out of character for me. It is a side effect of the famine, over 30lbs of baby weight gain that is still hanging around and so long without someone to hold. I got over it fast because he is so comfortable to me. It was nice having a warm body to curl up to that is over six feet tall as opposed to 2 feet. It was nice to be petted, to be whispered to, to feel sexy and giddy and goofy and happy. I've missed that, I've needed it and being with him well... it is a good fix.

In talking about love, life and the pursuit of cheese last night we talked about being alone. He's been alone so long, never had what I had with E and is just generally a selfish person with his time and unwilling to ever be so involved with someone that he has to always involve them that it's hard to imagine life any other way. I'm there. I like to think of love, to think of dinner plans and yard work and movie watching and just general life with someone. I don't think it is that I miss as much as the person I miss. I could have that with someone if I really wanted just that. I've dated a couple that would have given me that. I want that again, but without the love, the deep love I just can't picture it. And since I can't picture that deep love with anyone I can't picture someone in my daily life. I can't see an image of someone here with me when I put Rowan to bed each night. Can't see the image of family gatherings with someone at my side, can't see the image of the things that couples do when they are together every day. I just can't picture someone in my space. Funny that I can't picture it when picturing it is what tortures me to no end when I'm in my low moments. I just can't picture it with someone new. I also realized last night that if and when that happens what I'd be giving up with T. I'll give it up when the day comes but since this July will be two years that he has been a fixture in my life the intimate way he is now, the thought of him not being here from time to time, smart, funny, lean, muscled, soft and warm makes me know I'll miss that with him. He's just good people.

I survived my first famine and it made the drink all the sweeter. Bring on another, I can handle it.

And since I wrote way longer then I intended and at into that 3 hours, I'm not proofreading. Not one bit. My life, my words, my mistakes. I'll read this years from now and cringe at the typos as I always do but ah, fuck it.

Still Me

The first night I spent more than a couple of hours away from Rowan was December 17th when she was less than a month old. I had to go to class that night, absolutely could not miss it. I dropped her off at maw n paws with a backwards glance, yes but not with near the amount of anxiety I thought I'd feel, not near the amount I've heard new moms talk about for years. Same thing as the first day of daycare. I teared up, got a little sad but the first day wasn't that hard. I've had some harder days since then but for the most part leaving her with someone else isn't near the stress I thought it would be. I don't think this makes me a bad mom, not at all. I think it is important for her to be comfortable with other people, not just for her sake but for other people's sake as well. I'd hate to spend all my time with her and then one day when I HAVE to have a sitter the poor sitter have demon baby to deal with. There are a few kids at Rowan's daycare that are that way. One little boy is nine months old and just started daycare, just started being around other kids a couple of weeks ago. Everytime I've been there be it drop off, pick up. End of day, middle of day. Early morning, later afternoon the kid is not happy. There is another little girl who just started, she is about 2 and a half and has no clue how to interact with the other kids and spent her first week crying her eyes out everyday. I think about these things. Me? I have no choice but to turn over so much of her upbringing to other people. It makes me sad when I think of how little time I have with her each day, some days it feels like only minutes and she is growing oh so fast.

When I got in the truck that night and pulled out of maw n paws driveway I put in some music and turned it up. Loud. I cruised down the road, singing at the top of my lungs, thinking about my life and feeling happy. Not just about Rowan, but just about life. I thought of things she and I would do together, sure. Many many things. But I thought of other stuff as well. About how I couldn't wait to get on the river this summer, something I couldn't do with her. Thought about my birthday that was about a month away and how much I couldn't wait for food, fire, friends. Thought about spring and warm weather so I could steal a few hours here and there in my shed, something I'm desperate to do. Something hit me that night driving to school.

I'm still me.

I see it all the time. I see it in so many people I've known. Over and over again. That complete absorption in their children that they no longer have themselves. Am I absorbed in my child? You betcha. Big time. I'm sure everyone around me is sick of hearing about her every move, her every smile and development. She is #1 and I think/talk/feel/breath The Monkey all the time. But yet... I'm still me. I still have hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams for me. Yes, they include her and everything I do from now on will be centered around making sure she is happy and healthy but they are not all about her.

I made the decision this past weekend that at least once a month I'm going to have her spend the night with someone else. Not just for me, but for her. I want her to have her own adventures, to feel secure enough to do so. To see new places, wake up in different rooms, have different arms holding her and different faces smiling at her, playing with her. I've only spent one night away from her and she is almost 4 months old. For my sake, I need to be a grown up, need to be not just a mom but a woman, a lover, a friend. Whatever the night has in store. Sometimes I may just need to be a student and do homework. Whatever the case may be, once a month I'm packing her a little bag and sending her to someone else. I'll miss her something fierce and likely kiss her skin off when I drop her off and pick her up, but I think we'll both be better for it.

So this week, she is going home from daycare with one of the ladies that works there (who loves her to pieces). She'll get to laugh at her, have tons of attention from her 8 year old daughter. She'll have new scents and new sounds. And me? Mommy will have dinner with a friend (hopefully he'll cook). I'll drink beer, maybe watch a movie. I'll talk about Rowan, sure. But I'll talk about lots of non-Rowan things as well. I'll shave my legs, take a long bath. I'll get tipsy, flirt. I'll get a long stretch of sleep (or if I'm lucky very little sleep) and cuddle with someone I enjoy being with (immensely) in the dark. Even if this were not the case, even if this friend were not in town, even if he cancels I'm still sending her to the sitters. I'm still me and I need me time. And Rowan? She hasn't met a stranger. She loves everyone. She is comfortable with people, comfortable in her own skin. I hope that she stays that way.

Strange How My Mind Works

I count things. Always have. I've never once in my life walked up steps and not counted them, even if only on a subconscious level. I count street signs all the time, count letters in words. Group them together in multiples, always trying to make the letters come out in even numbers, sometimes counting the dots on the I's and the periods. Driving to an island once (I think it was Jekyll, perhaps St. George) E asked me how many poles we had passed. "122" I said. We laughed.

I blame this on my father. I can remember playing tons of number games with him when I was little. I remember being in the car and talking numbers. I don't remember the games, don't remember the puzzles but we did them often. I'll have to remember to ask him if he counts stuff too. I know he is OCD about numbers. He keeps a spiral bound notebook with every freecell game he has played. Listed are the game numbers in rows, in tiny print page after page after page for years with little tics beside the ones he lost. He does the same thing at the flea market, fills countless spiral bound books with what he sold down to the quarter.

Dad said "I've got something I want to show you" and came and sat beside me on the couch tonight. He has NEVER gotten up out of his recliner to do that before. I've never even seen him sit on the couch. He had found a tiny spiral bound notebook, the kind that I've seen reporters, cops and photographers keep in their breast pocket to jot down names. He bought a gray Dodge van in 1987 and recorded the mileage and how much it cost to fill up the tank every single time he got gas. It cost 21$ to fill up a 29 gallon tank in 1987. He was fascinated by this and left his recliner to come show me.

My dad likes to do the suduku puzzles. So do I. I do numbers in my head all the time. I think my last blog had how many more hours of class I have left in it. All figured in my head. I've added up how many days old I am before, months. Weird shit like that to keep my mind busy.

I used the time tonight after Rowan went to sleep to clean her room. I've been using it as a dumping ground for laundry, books, things from my old/new/old again/new again bedroom while it was being painted. Just stuff. I heard her fussing so I came back to bed, lay beside her and watched her hungry little mouth open for my breast. Beside her, stroking her hair I did the math on how many days old she is. She is almost 4 months old and the words "less than four months" has been said by me, thought by me so many times the last two years that I instantly thought of the time frame. I added up in my head. She is 114 days old today. Less than four months old. I did other math in my head, counted forward from the end of March until the middle of July. 114 days.

114 days is not a long time. My daughter, she has changed, grown so much in such a short time. But she is an infant. My mom was talking tonight about how time goes so fast. Four months old now and "Before you know it, she'll be 33" mom said. "Mom, I'm 34" I corrected her. She said same difference but that I change every year. Yet I don't think I've changed much in many, many years. Not like an infant. Adults, they just don't change that fast.

Strange the things I think on days that I think them. Of all the days for me to count how old she is.

Strange how my mind works.

Feel Like a Number

I'm a one in fiver.

Hot damn.

One Year Ago Today...

This time last year....


I'm about 99.999% positive that Rowan was conceived one year ago today. If not tonight but a year ago this weekend. Looking at the time, I know exactly what I was doing a year ago right now. Afterwards, I was so sleepy. I'm like a man in some ways.... make me happy and I immediately want to go to sleep. But that night was different. I remember being so tired, so worn out after just a quick romp. I literally passed out. I felt different. I'm glad I wrote about it because if I said that now people wouldn't believe me. But I did feel different, immediately.

I'm glad I wrote about that weekend in such detail. Glad I recorded how I felt about Trav and his kids, about kids in general. So strange how much of what I wrote hasn't changed. I still feel the same way about E, even if I don't cry as much anymore and even if my life is OK. More than OK now that I have Rowan. Oddly enough, I still have warm fuzzy feelings about Trav too, despite what I wrote a few months ago when I was hormonal and peeved at him. He and his kids came in the store a few weeks ago and it was so good to see them. I miss them. Not enough to change anything but it is all well... very unfortunate.

Also what is funny is that I wrote about Char painting. Ha! Today is his birthday and when I stopped by the house to pick up some things to bring with me to the mountain, he was finishing up painting my new/old bedroom. Bye bye baby shit green. Who the hell holes up on their birthday every year and paints?

AND what I wrote about sugar... that kinda makes me feel better about the state of my diet right now. I'm wondering if my addiction is seasonal, as I'm feeling horrible about myself because all I want to eat is sweets. This must stop. I'd look back at the other years but my heart still can't take it. One day maybe... but maybe not. As I write that, I realize I have read very few things I wrote in a previous life the last two years. Other than grocery lists or I love you post it notes and such I still find round the house, I haven't read anything E has written since his birthday last year and even that was the first time in many months. Time is a funny thing.

I laughed today. A manic, goofy laugh. A laugh I haven't laughed in a long time, a laugh that was not mine but E's. As it poured out I felt wrong. It is like I'm stuck in some time warp. Memories won't fade. The culture, sayings, thoughts, stories, so much that was part of our daily lives won't fade. I envy him that in a way yet pity it at the same time. A new house, new family, new wife, new job. Nothing, NOTHING in his life to remind him of me. I wonder what music he listens to? Does he just skip all that I introduced him to, or listen without a glimpse of a memory that it came from me? I have the same everything. The same friends, same clothes (or at least the same style, forever v-neck solid colors for me). The same linens, same furniture. Same cats, same kitchen, same bathroom and dining room. Very little has changed. It hit me the other day that when we move to the new store that finally there will be a place in my life that I go often that he doesn't haunt. Hell, I even pass the home of one of his friends where we attended the wedding of one of my friends each day taking Rowan to daycare. When we move to the new store, I won't see us the last day I saw him in the Children's room just before and after his face changed after he said "I'm sorry baby." I won't see us in the checkout line sometimes, being silly with the cashiers, pinching butts when no one is looking. I won't see him in the stacks, won't see him walking my way when I'm shelving. Won't remember the day he came down the storage aisle, sorrow in his face with red around his eyes and the words "We need to talk...right now." Won't think of us hugging and sobbing in front of the microwave when I heat up my lunch. A new place.... finally.

I went on a date on Valentines Day. Like so many others nothing came of it and like so many others that is fine with me. Just a first meet. Nice guy, lots in common, could be pals but... no cigar. He told me his version of his divorce story and then asked about mine. "If we become friends and you stick around" I said "I'll tell you. " he protested that it wasn't fair, that he showed me his. That is the bad thing about getting to know new people. Eventually the stories have to be told and well... I don't care to tell them anymore. Don't care to talk about it really. Sure, thoughts will come to mind (like tonight after reading that blog) and I'll pour it out for myself but other than that... no desire to talk about it.

What I hate, what I really hate is how so many things in my life remind me of him. So many things. When people talk about their partner doing this that and the other, I have a memory or story of him. When someone notices something quirky about me, I think of what he would have said about it. Over the years, that shit piles up. You know someone so well, they know you so well that you don't realize how engrained they are in who you are until they are gone. It has been 2 years now and none of that is erased for me. Even though there are others in my life that I have a resemblence of this with. The artist friend... each time I talk or see him, it is comfortable. I know many of his quirks, know him fairly well. Know his scent, his breathing patterns, the kind of shoes he likes to wear. It's strange to think he hasn't always been around. I think in terms of how long he and I have known each other now and as a friendship/occassional lover, he is "old hat" and now a part of my culture, yet E never knew him. I have a handful of new people in my life that feel as if they have been around for ages, like they were around then but obviously, they were not.

The summer time gang (TJMax, Rach & Marshall and B, M & S) we all went to Longhorn last night. I showed off Rowan to an old pal of mine who has worked there for years but really, she was an old friend of his. I went to the back to say hello. She'd been told she had a visitor but hadn't had time to come out (busy Friday night at a restuarant). Something was said about the large group I was with and I told her it was the friends I got custody of. We laughed. I would much rather (for his sake, not mine) have gotten joint custody of them and I still have hope sometimes but at the same time I feel selfish. The love in me wants to share but the part of me that knows there is no love for me says the hell with him... they are mine. So many emotions.

I have realized something lately.... I'm ready. I'm ready to love someone again, ready to love someone. I'm ready to have someone else in my life, someone else that can be a part of my new culture, that can build on who I've been and who I'm becoming. Who I'm becoming is a mom. I'm kinder, I think. more patient, more appreciative and more observant. But while I'd like to have someone again I'm not looking. Part of me feels that I am waiting and thinks I'll be waiting a long time. I still hold to the belief that I'll never have 'that' again but.... I'd like to.

I'm listening to the Twilight Series. I read them on maternity leave but listening to them is much better. The second book in the series was hard for me to read and it was hard to listen to as well. The way Bella suffers when Edward leaves... the way that loss and pain is described. The way she clutches her chest, the way she feels that she can't breath. I understand that and listening to it was hard. But there is a scene when she is about to let herself love Jacob, let Jacob love her. She compares it to Romeo and Juliet. What if Juliet had survived? What if she had loved Romeo forever from the bottom of her heart but... he was gone. Dead. What if Paris loved her, really loved her and well... made her happy. No, never as happy as she'd been before. Bella realizes she'd never love Jacob as much as she did Edward but for a moment, she is there, almost there of letting herself be warm, loved and happy. Not the 100% happy that Edward gave her, but enough to make life better. I worry that this will be me but at the same time, I think I'd embrace it. I think about things. Although I haven't thought about John much (haven't talked to him this year, still proud of me) I have thought... what if he'd have said OK... you've got me. Then what would have I have done. I loved him a great deal, wanted the chance to love him even more but.... I would have that hole still that was left behind by E. I could never have stayed with him because he didn't see me. I need someone who sees me.

Trav saw me. That makes it all the more sad.

If another Trav comes along... if someone else who is good and kind. Loving, that sees me. I won't let myself be sad over what I lost with E and shut them out because they are not him. I'll take my Jacob, my Paris. Do I regret Trav and I not working out? Not exactly, there was still too many issues that wouldn't have been resolved. I do regret that he didn't come along now. Now that I want to love again and be loved without the shadow of E in the way. That shadow is still there but it isn't in my way anymore. I've got too much to give, too much I want to let that shadow stand in my way. I'll never find a love like that again but I won't let that stop me from not loving and not allowing myself to be loved.

No, I don't think I'll ever have anything like that again. But I can hope. I can hope that I have something even better.

Then, there is my Rowan. Asleep beside me, mouth open, snoring slightly. Hands together in front of her face, mohawk sticking up. Crashed out under a brightly colored Mexican blanket in a onesie with little cowboy boots, horseshoes and horses on it. Her at Aunt Donna's sleeper. I love her more than I thought possible to love anyone. I know if E and I had stayed together I'd never have had a child, never have wanted one. When the entire breakup seems unreal, still seems irrational and just plain wrong, I think of her and know that she is why. Yet even with her I sometimes have a touch of sadness. I see couples with their infants, men with their children. I see toddlers on strong daddy shoulders and infants faces peaking over manly arms all day long at work. I see Tim talk to Max, guide him and hold him. See Bill help Gert with her homework, see Marsh pick on B. I find that I get jealous sometimes of the people who have someone to share this with. I imagine how it must feel to gaze lovingly at a child together, the closeness that must come from that, the love. If I have love, if I have someone that will love me, love us one day, this small, precious tiny little girl time will have passed. I'll go through her infant, then toddler and then perhaps on into her teens or hell, longer without having anyone to share the small wonders with. I have Donna and so far she's the closest thing to having someone to love her like I do with but still... it makes me sad that I'm alone.

(And I was going to end on that note but the evil cunt walked in the door while I was half-ass proof reading. Walked in her room, tried to fart and was denied. Then she said "Ahh.... look at her" referring to Rowan, distracts me by making sure I gaze lovingly at my child then comes and farts on my head. I love that rotten bitch).

Whoaaaa.... I ain't ever satisfied

Of course, I hate my hair. I'll be wearing a fussy bun for the next month while it washes out. It looked good last night when damp and in soft light but by day I just look like a 34 year old aging fat ass with bad pale skin, cheap colored hair and too many chins. But the smile on my face is wide, my eyes are bright, even if a little dark underneath from being tired. The box says comes out after 28 washing. I'll probably take two showers a day and see if I can cut that down to two weeks.

On a brighter note, my feet are smooth and sexy again. Every pedicure from now on will never be as satisfying as the first two. The first two had them sawing on my feet for ages, skin flying so fast and furious that if you put the tiny Asian woman doing the job in a bubble it would look like she was in a snow globe. Now that I maintain them it doesn't feel as good afterwards but it is how they feel when I know it is almost time... they feel much better. And oh, so cute with their little pink tips.

No, I won't be getting over my sexy feet anytime soon.

And yes, I took my kid to daycare and went and had a pedicure. I kept her home Monday to take her back to the doctor. She is one ounce shy of 13 lbs so they gave her meds this time and she is much better. Normally I have her all day Thursdays until time to go to school but since we skipped daycare Monday I took her today. I woke up (on my own with no fussing from her, no alarm) at 6am this morning and started getting us ready to go, intending to take her to daycare about 8 so I'd have the entire day to get things done but well... she's too damned cute. She wanted to grin, to play. After her stinker bottom was replaced and she was fed, she got sleepy. I got sleepy watching her get sleepy. She was so warm and cute, so snuggly. She smiles so big and gurgles in such a precious way that I just didn't want to give her up. Housework and homework be damned. So we kicked back in the "big chair" as it is now known (the recliner that DH gave us) and went back to sleep until 9. Then it was up, more snuggling, more play and on to breakfast at our local Huddle House (which is awesome) and we finally made it to daycare about 11:30. I started to just bring her on home, not bother. Thinking of the time and gas I'd save by not having to get back out in 3 hours, drive to East Brainerd, drive to maw and paws, then drive down own but seeing as how I can get 10x more done without baby around then I can with baby around, I went ahead and took her. I placed her in the swing at daycare and hoovered for about 10 more minutes, laughing and looking at her and interacting with the other littles ones as they came over to be sweet to Rowan. She was giggling and so happy, I didn't want to leave her but I know she is in good hands. Finally one of the ladies shooed me out the door.

I want a nap. I want to mop my floors. I want to move back into my old bedroom (or the closet at least, surely it is done enough for me to put clothes back in the closet). I want to work on Rowan's room, get all the tons of stuff out of her crib that was in the closet so that she might can sleep in the damned thing. I want to go through her discarded baby clothes (already two huge diaper boxes full) and tag them for the consignment sale. I want to go for a walk, sit on the porch, rake leaves. But instead I'm dicking off with this quick blog and about to start my homework.

Rowan makes my world go round.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the "genenator" as someone called sperm donors recently. I think about him often actually, haven't really stopped. I miss him. Not in a forever and ever kinda way, not in the I'm in love with you, come with me to France kinda of way. Not in the way I miss E. It doesn't hurt when I think of Trav, doesn't hurt when I think of things we did together. I don't avoid thinking about him like I do E. But I do miss the man and while I still think it's better this way for Rowan and me (not so sure about him) in the long run, I miss him. If he hadn't been the genenator he could still be in my life, still be my friend. And he is on a superficial half ass keep in touch level. I guess it is just thinking of the upcoming date, knowing that she was conceived a year ago this weekend that has me missing him more, has me wanting to give him a hug. That and the fact that because of him I'm the luckiest mommy alive. Wow. A whole year.

And in other aspects of life, almost 2 years... it still doesn't seem real to me.

Marketing calls..... Ahhh..... only 294 hours left of attending class before I will be done with my MBA. That doesn't count the homework, but who is counting?

And Another Thing

I have red hair.

I've had an overwhelming urge to go red lately. Can't explain it. So I did.

I have a theory about my new found girlie ways... the sexy pedicured feet, the shaving of my legs even though no one is about to benefit from the smoothness, the giving the 70's their bush back (they have been calling for years and always I wouldn't give it back) the dentist to save my teeth, the worries about my wrinkles and skin and my attempts to fix some skin damage and the urge to color my hair... I think it is biology. Evolution. Not only does my body know it has been a long time without certain.... things in life. Affection, sex, snuggles, etc. But my brain, the chemicals in my body know it as well. I think that some sort of chemical is being released that is making me more girlie. Perhaps it happens while breastfeeding. Know how some birds put on a big display to try to attract a mate? Mammals do scents, bugs do funky stuff too. Well, I think my body is doing that biology thing and trying to attract a mate despite my lack of time to even fool with looking or spending time with someone. Despite the fact that I'm finally pretty much OK with the lack of those things in my life. My buddy P went years once without someone in his life. When I said I didn't think I could do that (when what I was really saying is that I didn't think I could go that long without sex) he said that after a certain amount of time, you don't think about it anymore. It becomes less important. After awhile you lose interest to even masturbate. This is a new chapter in my life, one I've never went through, not for long at least. I'm finding I don't mind it so much. It gets easier and easier every day. Odd really the changes in me. I do wish I could break this addiction to sugar, it is killing me. I could eat nothing but sweets all day long and be perfectly happy. I'm huge, HUGE and I hate it but I can't seem to lay off the peanut butter eggs and cadbury eggs. Fucking Easter Bunny, bring me the ears of that fucker. I'll mount then and put them on the wall like dear antlers and then hang my scarfs from them.

So anyway... I have red hair. Getting my monthly pedicure tomorrow. Shave my legs for no reason other than it feels good all the time. If I pick up a mascara wand I expect my friends to launch an intervention. I'd do it for you gals.

OK as a Mom but a horrible friend

As a friend I'm seriously slacking these days. I don't call anyone. When they do call me I don't think to call them back until I'm already in the dead zone that is my house. I never remember to put the phone on the charger so the house phone is often out and besides, it only works at the other end of the house. When I move back into my old bedroom soon (which Char has painted to cover that baby shit green and it looks wonderful) then I'll be able to talk on the phone more. I love TJMax. Miss M&S and feel like I haven't spent time with them in centuries. Mal and Greg are getting married soon and I haven't even taken Rowan to meet them. I've seen little of R&M. Z and I have talked of dinner plans several times and have yet to do it and I'm REALLY missing him. The only person I see often is Char and Donna. Donna, bless her is the most awesome creature. Without her help I don't know what I would do. She keeps Rowan for me, takes her while I actually eat a hot meal sometimes (meaning hers is cold when she gets to it). Comes by and entertains her for a bit so I can shuffle laundry around. She has done so much for me and keeps giving more and more and more. I don't know how I'll ever repay her. Of course, she is totally in love with Rowan. It does my heart good to know that should she ever have to receive the huge ass life insurance policy I took out on myself, Rowan will be loved and have a good momma #2.

I have had so many things to write about, not all baby related. Just writing. Things I think of, stuff I want to talk about. Songs I've heard, memories I've thought of, conversations, observations and just general drivel. I could make time after Rowan goes to sleep but when she does there is homework. There is clothes and sleeping myself. I could be organized. I could get more done than I do. But every waking moment (her waking moment) I want to spend interacting with her and I do. I never noticed the passing of time like I do now. 5 minutes is a long time. You can get a lot done in 5 minutes if that is all you have. I treasure each moment with her and when not with her, or when she is snoozing, or when she is chill and happy to be in her bouncie seat after I've taken a shower, I steal a few minutes to get something done.

The next two months are going to be hard. I have two a week for the next month, thus rearranging my schedule, thus double the homework and one less night I get to spend with Rowan. Then the month after that I will have some seriously LONG days because we'll be moving the store I work in to our new location (I CAN'T WAIT!!!) I haven't slept longer than 4 hours staight in at least 6 months now. All sorts of things are different about my life. I'm happy. I love being with her, love being a mom so much. Who would have thunk it?

Oh My Roommate

Char just popped in my room....

Char: Remind me... I'll put such and such virus protector on your computer. I can add up to three computers.

Me: (Tit in Rowan's mouth reading CNN) OK

Char: (Starting his rant mode voice) The government spends billions of dollars trying to find terrorists... fuck the terrorist. They need to track down the sons of bitches that put addware and viruses on computers. (And the rant goes one).

He cracks me up. I love living with Char, I really do. Other than E and Z and of course, my parents I've now lived with Char longer than anyone else and we get along just fine.

And in other news.... mom was sick so Rowan went to stay with Brooke, Rachel and Marshall tonight. When I arrived to pick her up (less than 4 hours after I dropped her off mind) the little Monkey already only had eyes for Rachel. She was gazing so lovingly up at Rachel when I arrived that I had to stand on my head in a pink ape costume to get her to even look my way. Rach said "Thanks for letting us keep her" before I could say "Thanks for keeping her." I told her I'd offer to pay but I knew she'd just be insulted. She just piffed me. I then asked for my 20 bucks for letting Rowan stay with them. Teeheehee.

And as I'm about to hit publish post, Char walks back in my room with a jar of Jiff peanut butter in his hand. "What is wrong with this picture?" he asks shaking the jar at me. "The half on lid" I say and of course, that was his point. I'm lid challenged.

Cause He's an Asshole...

Dennis Leary is coming to Atlanta.

Had life been different right now, I know that is a show I'd be going to.

I miss him for many reasons. Some sappy and some like this.

Of course the asshole song has taken on a whole new meaning about average white suburbanites.

The Monthly Monkey

Mom likes feet. She does not know why.
Aunt Donna said "Hide Rowan!" but Mommy won't let me tell you why.
I've just recently started noticing that there are furry creatures about the house that are about the same size as me. Mom seems to like them, especially this one. She talks to him in that same silly high pitched tone she does with me. More than once I've heard her reassure him that she loves him too but I know he's no match for me.

Mom hasn't warned me against kissing boys yet. Who am I kidding? MY mom warn against kissing boys. Yeah, right. This one gets to kiss me all he wants. He sends mom a text almost daily to say he loves us. He was there to witness my escape from her wretched womb. Other than the funny looking people in cloth clothing that didn't know my name, he was the first person to hold me, long before mom even got to lay eyes on me. He says they put me under a french fry lamp. Surely I didn't look like a tater. How sad for mom that she didn't get to see me for about 2-3 hours. Of course, if she had seen me she would have thought I was a candy cane or something. She was "tripping balls" as I've heard it said. Silly Mommy. Even I know not to trip over balls.
This is my Nana. She is absolutely over the moon about me. I think that finally, after all these years it has sunk in to her that she doesn't have to talk to mom 17 times a day. She knows she'll see us two times a week because I have to go stay with her one day when mom goes to work and on the evenings mom has to go to school. She thinks I'm a fussy one and I can sense her weakness so... I fuss when I'm with her. She needs to take a chill pill.
Now THIS dude.... he's chill. This is my Pawpaw. Nana overheard him talking to me the other day telling me how much he loves me. Mommy got all sniffly when she heard this. He was scared of me at first, thought he was going to drop me. He still hands me off the minute I start getting grumpy but since that doesn't happen as much when I'm in his lap, we just talk. And talk and talk and talk. He puts me on his knees so I can face him and he makes me giggle. I spy Mommy down the hall a lot, watching us with a sweet, sad look on her face. She worries he won't get to see me grow to be very old and it makes her sad. Of course, if he gets his wish (and he is coaching me very hard) and my first words are "Go Vols" she likely will kill him with her bare hands. Mom humors him and dresses me in Vols clothing but honestly she could care less about sports. I don't know who this Sandy Claws is yet, but I'm told that is who Pawpaw looks like. Mom had a come to Jesus meeting with him recently about his obsession with his yard. If anyone so much as sets an inch of a tire into his yard he goes into orbit. She told him to make the $%*& turnaround in the driveway bigger or get over it, she was driving in the #$%& yard. She had that thing in the center of her forehead when she said it. She gets it when she is mad. So far, she has never aimed it at me but my day will come. He told her there was plenty of room. One day, mom parked so that when he got home he'd have a hard time and guess what... he did. Didn't change anything and mom says when we get in the car "I bet you Pawpaw is standing at the window watching, counting how many times we have to forward, reverse, forward, reverse just to get out of the &%$* driveway.
This is my first day wearing a dress! Three months old and finally she puts me in a dress. The no dress days wasn't intentional. Mom realized one day I just don't have many dresses. She's going to make an effort to get more dresses for me because she thought I looked adorable. Personally I liked the tights.
Aunt Donna ran and grabbed the camera while Mom was checking her email. She said we both had the same expressions on our face. That was before she took the pic because as soon as she got the camera out Mom and I tried to ham it up but aunt Donna told us to do what we were doing a minute ago so... we did.
The first Saturday of each month Goodwill has everything half off. Mom picked up this beauty for about .50. Oh how she and aunt Donna laughed. Mom has a thing for tie die but when she saw this she was thrilled. Mommy doesn't drink much because well... I don't cry much. She had to wait for HOURS to get me to even make an unhappy face just so she could snap this picture. I am that good. I think she poked me in the eye with a stick to make me cry. Nah... just kidding. She wouldn't do that. Not on purpose at least.
Bath time is either great fun or terribly tramatic, sometimes both. Often we start out well. I'm warm, it is cozy. Then she washes my hair and hmmm... I'm not as happy. I like being in the tub with mom because she sings our bath song but the sink is a lonely place.

Mom says that Johnson and Johnson has that new baby smell patented. At home we use Dr. Bronners and Aveno Lavendar. This is our at aunt Donna's wash.
Everyone keeps telling mom I look like her. FINALLY she sees a picture of me and says hmm... I can see it. Jabba the baby. It's all about position and camera angle... at least that is what mom says when she sees her chins in a photo. Mom says her chins come and go and one day she hopes they will be gone for good. I brought them back. That's OK, she says. I'm worth it.
Practicing my right hook.
No mom! Please don't beat Zero within an inch of his life!!!! He'll stop knocking on the door when he can sleep with me in my room, I promise!
Somewhere mom has a picture of herself doing almost the same thing with the same grin but as a grown up.
Laundry. So.....much....laundry. This is how mom has justified 9 sleeping bag type sleepers, dozens of pants, dozens of onesies, eightteen pairs of socks that stay on my feet (she found them at Fred's) and all manner of bibs, burp clothes, diapers, blankets etc. She can go for almost 2 weeks and not have to do laundry. I wear a lot but since they are small they don't take up much space. At first we only had 3 of the sleepers she likes me to sleep in so it was laundry every other day. She whined and moaned. Now she can go ages which makes a happy mommy. This is a picture of me helping.
She thinks I'm beautiful.
Mom is amazed that I am so beautiful. She knew that she would think I'm gorgeous, she has to. That chemical kicks in that makes her think I'm the most awesome thing on the planet. The biological reaction that keeps humans from eating their young, she says. But the fact that I actually AM beautiful astounds her. My sweet nose, my LONG eyelashes, my pale and rosey complection (I have both). My big blue eyes. I wow her. She can't stop looking at me.

Climbing Boob Mountain. The brown is Mommy. When I get to the top I'll drink until full then roll back down.
What is a camera doing at the bottom of my Boppy?

All clean and dry after a bath with mom.
Sometimes I make sad faces which are just as cute as my happy ones.


Mom loves to play Rook. She says aunt Tammy always calls trump Blue. I don't know my colors well yet but I didn't see a blue card. Mommy says when aunt Tammy calls trump blue she does so through beer tinted glasses. Mom says we are keeping this set of cards forever and ever. She says that when I am a grown up that I can sit and play Rook with my friends and tell the story of how mom used these cards with me in her lap. Some traditions are precious. She had a set of Rook cards that she loved very much. She misses the feel of them, the smell. The way they felt between her fingers and on her cheek. She lost them. She misses them. But now she says we have started our own tradition.
After a walk in the fields to see the horses, donkeys and ducks I was tuckered out. Mom covered me with her jacket and let me rest.
She still hasn't gotten a new camera.... color is way off.
I want to live where the sunlight lights....
I'm ready for a nap woman!
Mom tries to pretend I was laughing but really I was getting my fussy on.
I'm a big girl but yet I'm so tiny. This woman loves me so very much yet she doesn't seem to know my name. She still insists on calling me Monkey. First it was Coconut before I arrived, now Monkey. From a fruit (is a coconut a fruit?) to a primate. What is next? She'll call me Chair. Or Gravel. She's an odd one, my mommy.
These are my mommas. And my pappas.

Out of the Blue

I'm a bigger fan of Myspace then I am of Facebook. Facebook may be more for grown ups while myspace is for bands and kids, but I find Myspace easier to use so I post more there, check my messages more often and as a general rule would rather only have myspace. Unfortunately, many of my pals are only on facebook and these social networking sites are a great way to keep up with pals.

I looked at the pictures my buddy Noelle uploaded of her wedding from 06 tonight on Facebook. She looked so beautiful, I smiled thinking about how lovely everything was. Smiled thinking of the wonderful dinner we had at the Bald Headed Bistro afterwards. Of feeling tipsey, of having a good time with mostly strangers. When looking through the pics, a crowd shot caught my eye. As I had just seen something else that had my partner from my previous life on the brain, that one quick glance gave me pause. A snapshot of a moment in time he and I shared together that was completely unremarkable. Not the event, but the snapshot of us. Just husband and wife, side by side, blank expressions in a crowd but still.... it has been a long time since I've seen his face. A long time indeed. Everything that has his reflection in this house is buried away. I opened a link Rachel sent me several weeks ago from a trip to the beach and while I looked at him for a moment, I closed it quickly. I have not gazed at his face in a long, long time except in my mind and even when it appears there, I look away.

I avoid. I avoid many things that make me think of that previous life. I skip songs on CD's, skip places, skip roads and even skipped seeing some people for quite awhile. I still feel it is getting better all the time. I saw something tonight other than that photo that put him on my mind and still no tears escaped. They welled up, threatened to spill over but so far have not. Why? Because I'm simply trying not to think about it, yet that only goes so far. Thinking about next week, about the reason I always remember when Crackola left for Texas, me in tow. Thinking about Z, although the relationship I have with him is removed from the relationship the three of us had together in the fact that when I see Z I don't see E anymore. I just see my boy and sadly, not enough of him these days.

I avoid. Coming home, being in this house isn't the haunted place it once was. Funny I say that... where my bed is now, I look at the ugly glass cube window that goes in the kitchen. Two nights ago, I was sitting here chatting with a new friend online and looked over and for a moment, felt that ghost. I took a moment to picture this room as it was. When there was a print of Walker County Courthouses on the wall to the right of my bed, Playboys on a shelf just in front of me by the lightswitch. Stained ugly carpet on the floor, an old stereo to the left of the window with a Zero on top being molested by Smutty. A recliner in the corner that DH gave us (that now lives in Rowan's room) with a rainbow knitted afghan thrown over it. And as for the left corner... I can't picture what was in the corner. Ever. I know there is a picture here somewhere. The last night we were in the house at the same time, we took pictures of each room before he started packing. I remember that night so well. The calm as we walked through the house together, dividing up our lives. My soul screaming no no no and his screaming yes yes yes as he already had someone else. This house is a better place to look at now. With the exception of a few places that need repaired (such as the Mexican tile that is on the rise of the steps leading to the kitchen) it is a much more attractive home inside. More rooms painted, no carpet left. Rowan's room, once a closet is now so cozy and warm to the soul. Soon, new windows in every room. The ghost doesn't linger like he once did, but when I sat here two nights ago looking around the room, I saw him in my mind while picturing what it was like then. His back would have been to me while he was at his metal desk, the glow of a flat watery Mac laptop screen. Music would have played from somewhere. No TV would have been on, ever unless a movie or series was being watched. There was simply more important things to do than watch TV, as there is in life everyday. I could picture him there, PJ bottoms, misc Gonzo shirt, a sunray metal candle holder on the wall above the cubed glass with a wonderful straw hat hanging on it. That same candle holder now is often home to the scarves that I often wear not just for warmth but to hide my wet clothing in a pinch should my breast-e-ses leak when away from Rowan.

Seeing our faces in the crowd of that photo... I smiled. No tears come. He was in blue. I can't see what I was wearing, but I know what it was. I had on a long, flowy denium skirt with a patchwork flowy batik style shirt on. I loved that shirt. It had huge holes at the seams and strings hanging from odd places by the time I finally retired it to be a rag for my shed. Seeing that picture, I remembered other weddings we attended together, watching friends share vows. One of those weddings pops to mind often, as I pass the location of my buddy Sloans wedding on the way to Rowan's daycare everyday. I just realized we attended a shit ton of weddings together. The first I remember would be my pal Nikki's. That one sticks out in my mind because of the fun we had in our backyard on a lawn chair while the sun set over our pond when we got home... a fine memory, almost makes me blush and I'm not the blushing kind. My buddy B's wedding, kissing him and squinching up my nose because he stank, smelling like a guy I work with who smokes the foulest smelling cigarettes known to man. The smell of this man made me gag when I was pregnant and was the times I came the closest to vomiting. I avoided standing close to him for months. Funny thing was, he had just borrowed a cigarette from this guy. (Who I'm proud to say that hell has truly frozen over... I had a child and that particular person, the biggest chain smoker I've ever known is trying really hard to quit. I'm very proud). The infamous high dollar wedding that has great tales such as the exploding toilet, scenes from a Mexican resturaunt, forgotten credit cards, lap dances, barefeet, waffles and the bachelor party in Tunica prior to the wedding. Him being the fall guy and "All in." So many weddings. The tedium of attending such events but then the fun and connecting with friends that comes from the actual attending.

I'm looking forward to Mal's and Greg's wedding this coming April. Old friends, together again all at the same spot. Good times will happen.

Seeing us in that picture, I was reminded of the reception. I rarely drink a lot, haven't for years. To hear me talk and blog sometimes you would think I'm a raging drunk but anyone who knows me well knows that I don't drink much. When I do, it is about once or twice a year exceptions, my birthday parties and that long ago Hootenanny comes to mind as well as live shows. I never finished the hootenanny story... I think I'll do that soon. I like to drink a beer for the taste but rarely do I get drunk. Not the doing shots type of gal. Ten to fifteen years ago, sure but not in the last decade. He used to be amazed at how I could chug down pitcher after pitcher at a Floating Men show (or the time I drank myself under the table at a Maura show in Atlanta) yet when at home, the neck of a beer and my face and neck were flushed red and I had a buzz.

At the reception, I drank quite a bit of wine, something I rarely drink. I didn't realize until later in the evening when it was time for us to prepare to drive home that he had too. We had a spat. We rarely argued, rarely said harsh words. The few times we did it was more annoyance with each other than anything. I rememembered being annoyed, feeling that it was unfair. He always got to be the drinker, me the driver. That was normally OK as he drank more than I did but I thought we had agreed that I was to be the one who got to drink, he the driver. Apparently not, so long after everyone else had left the reception, the bride and groom whisked away to cheers and love, we sat on the back patio, just us. And did what we did. We talked. Despite my annoyance, it ended well. We had that time together and I remember it. A forced time for both of us to just sit and be together. I loved being with him so much each and every day, even on days when it hurt me because of well... it's all been written.

I hate stumbling across things unexpected. I hate those little slaps in the face. Hate to open and root around in a junk drawer only to find some little trinket left behind. For a long time a newspaper clipping that had been taped to my computer at work was in my top desk drawer. When the split happened, I took it from the monitor and put it in that drawer, meaning to take it home and add it to a wooden box. I'm not at my desk much at work and when I am, I rarely have to root around in drawers. For the longest time, I would open that drawer to retrieve something; paperclip, highlighter, hairbrush, etc. and that clip would be staring up at me. Long fuzzy hair, funky Hawaiann shirt, long braid and kisses. Hearts surrounding "I Love You Dawnia" published in the paper for all the world (or the county) to see. Sitting at my desk this past Saturday, thinking I should check my teeth before I left work to meet my Valentines date (yes, I had a date) and I remembered Valentine's gifts past. Pitchforks, teapots, hearts, chocolate and cheese. I wanted to see it. Actually wanted to not avoid the clipping, wanted it in my hands, wanted my eyes on it. I threw open the top drawer before I lost my nerve, rooted around with a panic in my heart. Where is it? Why isn't it here? I calmed myself, telling myself that it was OK. If I could just think back and remember the year, I could go to the paper office, make a copy. But no, not necessary. I remembered after a minute of searching that my last day of work before maternity leave I emptied my desk of all personal belongings, just in case (as one of my co-workers put it) I "died in childbirth." It is safe, tucked away in a wooden box.

I remember the blue shirt he wore in the photo of the wedding crowd. I remember another evening with these same friends, just the 4 of us sitting in their meditation room. I remember Noelle giving him a stone to help him with something he desperately needed help with. Something that although he threw up to me later that he gave up in his new life (to which I'm very proud of him) I know it wasn't my fault that he didn't give it up before. I know that and don't give credit to anyone else but him for finally kicking it to the curb. I don't agree with the spiritual beliefs of these friends, not entirely. I relate to many aspects of their beliefs much more so then other belief structures, but I didn't discredit the power of what she gave him that stone to do. I believe in the pull of things, the power of the earth to heal us. If I didn't, I wouldn't feel healed as I do by water.

Blue. Blue is a color I've had on my mind lately. I've noticed it on people, on book covers. On houses, on toenails. Blue seems to be everywhere I look these days. My favorite colors have always tended towards earth tones, particually gray and brown. Yet lately, I've been drawn to blue. Dressing Rowan for bed tonight, I chose her blue sleeper because of the color, before seeing that photograph. Seeing that blue shirt in the crowd made me smile. Seeing the face there beside mine, not doing anything but being a face in the crowd made me remember. The two are not connected, this new affection I have for the color and the man in the blue shirt. Not connected at all yet at the same time, it is all connected. Everything. The sky, our souls, our hearts, our minds. Memories old, memories yet to be made. Mistakes, regrets, longings. Happiness and joy. It's all connected and although time passes, although time marches on, there is still always a connection. Even when, try as I might, I avoid.

Blue is said to be good for healing. Perhaps that is why it has surrounded me, everywhere I look, popping to mind often.

Weeks after we split, my buddy and later lover J was a comfort to me. He understood the pain of divorce, cared for me for nostalgic reasons and he listened. He held me while I cried. He was who I turned to for comfort and he gave it. Just weeks after the split one night I was on the phone with him, crying. Upset over how it was happening, upset over what I was doing, upset over what E was NOT doing, just upset. Worried about the future. He asked me to get a piece of paper and and pen. "Write this down" he said. "I, DP will call JTP on March 1, 2008 and tell him he was right." I was to tell him he was right about everything being OK. I was to tell him he was right about being on my feet, about everything just being OK. I called him on March 1, 2008. I called him and asked for an extension. Everything was not OK, far from it. I was still hurting so much. I had Trav in my life but he didn't fill the hole. I had new friends, old friends. I had family, home and work. My bills were paid, time marched on. Little did I know that my body was healing itself and in just a weeks time I would conceive a child. But I was not OK. I asked for an extension and he said I could have one. I fully expected to call him in a few more months. Fully expected that once a full year had passed that I would be able to call and say you were right, I'm OK. But the year came and I still wasn't OK. A year and a half, still not OK. A second summer without him. Nope. More holidays, more anniversaries, more dates of note. Nope. Still not OK.

The statement of OKness J had me write that day is still on my fridge. When the time came that I was OK, he said, I was to put it in a frame and hang it above my door. I've never even bothered to look for a frame, still so unOK in the OKness. Just before my birthday party on January 17, I pulled out a rubbermaid container of picture frames that live under my bed, looking for the perfect ones to put her little face into. I set aside a few 8x10 frames even though I didn't have any 8x10s that I wanted to put in the frames. Subconsciously I think, I was selecting a home for that written statement.

Shortly after my birthday, one day in the shower it hit me... I'm happy. Happy 24/7? Not exactly. But happy with me? Happy with who I am? Happy with my life? Yes. I'm happy. I miss him, I miss what was so much sometimes that my body still aches and I can't see through the tears or swollen eyes, can't breath around the pain but still... I'm happy. The dreams haunt me when they come but still... I'm happy. It is a wonderful feeling. I can miss, I can still have sadness in my life but it no longer keeps me from being happy. I can be lonely, unloved and unlaid but still be happy. It makes all the difference in the world.

I will be calling John on March the 1st this year. On a day that will be an 8 year rememberance. I will call him and tell him that he was wrong about the year but right. I am OK. When I call him, when I talk to him and tell him this (and I'm already hoping I get his voicemail) it will be the first time I've talked to him this year. I believe that part of my happiness has come from not seeing him anymore. Avoidance. Hanging on to hope for him kept me from happiness. Unlike with E, when something pops up that makes me think of J, I feel nothing. No hard feelings, no regret. Annoyance perhaps but nothing else. No desire to go back, no desire to pick it up again, no desire at all. That isn't saying I wouldn't if he said the word, but they would have to be the right words this time, not just a hint of the right words. I won't be holding my breath.

My first long post in a long time. I believe having the warm body of Smutty curled up at Rowan's side has kept her asleep for so long. That and sheer exhaustion from her cough, sheer exhaustion from listening to mommy hack and wheeze for two weeks. Rowan... when you read this one day, I'm grateful to you for sleeping through me writing this. I needed to write, needed to write. Thank you for letting me.

"Blue skies... shining on me.... nothing but blue skies.... from now on" (Gotta love Willie)

Not entirely true but the blue is beating back the dark. Finally.

And all this, all these memories, all these images, all these words. Not a single tear has fell tonight. Not one. I'm not foolish enough to think they are gone forever. I believe, I really believe I'll love him until I die. Love him like I've never loved another, love him more than I'll ever love another. But I'm learning to live with that and it doesn't feel so bad anymore.

I thank my little girl. My pal Keith was right... she saved me.

The Firsts

There are so many firsts in this life. The first kiss, the first airplane ride, the first job, first car. There are first that we face alone and the firsts that are witnessed by others. Like the first time Z drove away in his car alone after receiving his drivers license. I remember how I felt the first time I did that but I never knew how a parent felt watching until the day I watched him pull out of the driveway for the first time he was licensed and alone. I was excited for him, nervous and sad too. It was a first and I stood facing it alone.

Becoming a parent, a full fledged mommy from the first pregnancy test that ever came back with the extra credit line that meant my world changed in an instant has led to my firsts. The first stirring of love I felt for the parasitic creature nestled in my womb, the first flutters, the first kicks. Her first true smile, her first laugh. So many small firsts pass me by each day and while I'm not sharing them alone, she is right there providing the entertainment still... I witness them alone.

She had a first today. A bigger first to me then the first time she raised her body, first time she held her head erect. A big first for me and I'm glad, so glad I looked back and realized what she was doing. For the first time, she looked out the window. No, it wasn't her first time at a window. She can sit and look out the window while being held, or in her swing, or in a bouncer everyday and she has from what feels like the beginning. This was just watching the world go by. This was watching the trees float past. This was small person being content to watch it all without being prompted or directed. She generally looks towards then inside of the truck when awake and in her carseat. Today, she chose to look the other way and judging by the fact that she stayed awake, alert and not fussy all the way home, I'm believing she liked what she saw.

I remembered a trip to Mexico four years ago next month. The trip from the airport to the resort was about an hour drive. On the shuttle bus, we rode through small town after small town. There were familiar sights such as McDonalds and Sam's clubs to be seen, but there was graffiti and street art and scrubby bushes too. Dirt and broken windows. Plants and dry earth and people everywhere down side streets. Small stores and vendors selling all manner of things. I watched it all, soaked it all in. I looked at my companion, ready to strike up a conversation about all "we" were seeing and to my astonishment, he was reading a book. A book! I exclaimed. I encouraged him to put it away, to look around. We would never see such sights again and if we did, they would be few and far between. He thought there was nothing to see. Much of it was bleak. Much of it was dirty and run down and sad on the eyes. But it was something new, something different, something beautiful in the difference of it. I didn't understand how in a situation like that someone could just let the world pass them by without a glance. The book would remain but the street vendor with missing teeth, the civic pride shown by the blink of a passing town in the care of short trees in the center lane, well manicured and taken care of. The passengers in the other cars, crammed into small vehicles belching black exhaust or workers in the bed of a truck. These sights, these images were brief and would never be seen in the same way again. I will never understand.

Today, I watched my daughter stare out the window in silent interest. Some would say she doesn't see much being so small. I know it is blurry, unfocused colors and images she sees but still... she is seeing. We followed a truck hauling giant rolls of hay for several miles and if we got above 20 miles an hour I'm a monkeys uncle. (I'm no monkeys uncle, I'm a monkeys mom). I was in no hurry to pass, as the slow pace allowed me the opportunity to spy on my passenger sitting silently in the back seat in her rear facing car seat, her little face reflected in the plasctic mirror that hangs from a rainbow stripped monkey on the back of the seat cushion. I was able to observe her observing the world. Watching the trees slowly drift by, the other cars, the houses.

I believe so many people go through their life unseeing. From the poor kid who rides in the car watching a movie rather than look out the window or gasp, have a conversation with a parent to the adults that immediately close the tiny window shade at their seat on the plane and never once look out the window at the clouds and the earth. I've always been a member of the easily amused club, true. I feel no shame in this because there is so much that is common place that is amusing. From making up stories about the people in the houses rolling by or the child standing on a corner in Mexico, life shouldn't pass us by unobserved.

Today, my daughter gazed out the window. Observing. I'll do all I can to ensure that she always has something to look at. Even when everything around her looks the same.