Roar!

Happy Halloween! You didn't know lions had pink feet, did you?

Congratulations

Welcome To The World Cobain Joseph! He arrived this morning by c-section and weighs 7 pounds, 4 ounces and is 19 inches long. His mom is Dana, and she is doing well too. I can't see him yet because of this stupid cold, but I will be going to peek at him from the doorway later.

Dana was with me for the birth of my child. I love her very much and couldn't be happier for her and Cobain's dad, Joe.

A Flip-Flop

Oh, and I'm not sorry anymore that I wished Ann Coulter was hit by pies. I don't normally pay attention to what that freak show has to say, but I finally read the following quote:

My pretty-girl allies stick out like a sore thumb amongst the corn-fed, no make-up, natural fiber, no-bra needing, sandal-wearing, hirsute, somewhat fragrant hippie chick pie wagons they call "women" at the Democratic National Convention.

A hint for Ann: If you have to keep telling people how pretty you are, maybe you aren't as pretty as you think.

Hoarse

Just when I was all ready to have a nice fat posting session, I come down with a terrible sore throat. If I can't speak in real life, I probably shouldn't be hanging out all night on the internet. I want to be better tomorrow, so I can go and see The Treats, a cool band, whose bassist was a frat brother of my husband (yes! he was in a frat! as a 30+ year-old student! but they were cool kids, see?). He's a hoot, his wife is even cooler, and the band is pretty good.

I Can Feel The Love

Thank you all for your kind words about my cat. She is doing very well right now, which means there is one treatment she can get, which could slow the tumor growth. We'll start it on Monday.

I'll post more tomorrow, I hope. I have been extra-special tired these last couple of weeks, for no discernible reason, as Peanut has been sleeping very well.

There Are No Words

Reading Cecily's blog made me feel like someone was standing on my chest.

And to Russ Feingold's opponent in this election, the guy who said on TV he was against pregnancy termination even to save the life of the mother because that really never happened anyway, Fuck You.

We're Okay

Does anyone else with kids ever look down at their child(ren) and think, "There is a baby living in our house. How the hell did that happen?"

Liberals Have Bad Aim

I know it is petty and wrong but the only thing I'm sorry about is that they missed.

It's Bad

The test results show her abdomen is full of cancer, so we aren't able to operate. We have maybe a month left with her, probably less. She has a urinary tract infection, so we are treating that because it might make her feel better. I am very sad. It might be a while before I post again, or it might not, depending on how I feel.

I'm Just Not Going To Think About It Tonight

My cat Suki was diagnosed with cancer today. She is getting an ultrasound tomorrow, but it doesn't look good. I wanted to write about her tonight, but I think it will sound too much like a eulogy and I'm not ready for that. So here's a picture. She's about half her normal weight, and her eyes are closed because the camera has a double flash, but she's really beautiful and regal and all those things that make a cat so great. So we'll hope that her vet is as wrong about her as Peanut's doctors were about her.

Envy

I just got my first issue of Brain,Child - The Magazine for Thinking Mothers, and it is really cool. Go look at it online. I wish I could write for them.

Where I Know Things Could Be Worse But I Bitch Anyway

Tonight was the way it is supposed to be:

T. gets home around 5:30 and Peanut wakes up. He goes in and plays with her while I start supper. We all eat together with Ella Fitzgerald playing in the background, and then he takes her and plays some more while I do dishes. T. brings her into the kitchen and dances with her while she smiles and giggles at me. When dishes are done he gives Peanut her bath and puts her to sleep, singing softly to her, while I settle onto the couch and start doing homework for class. He goes to bed early, after having a long and frustrating day at work, while I finish my reading and get on the computer to do my writing. Peanut stays asleep, and I will get to sleep by ten o'clock. Even the cats behaved.

No major crying (me or Peanut), frustration, exhaustion, phone calls from T. that wake Peanut up right after I get her down for the night. No feeling like the day will never end, like I will never ever have energy again, like T. will just always be gone and I will have to do this alone forever. I really hate his job. I hate him being gone so much. I know it got me a house and allows me to stay at home with Peanut and pay the bills. I know that most people don't get to have one parent work nine to five while the other stays home. I know even if we were that lucky we wouldn't always get nights like this. And I know that if he didn't have this job, I would also be working full-time and we'd be working different shifts and I still wouldn't see him much, and see much less of Peanut. It just doesn't seem like it would be that bad if it meant I would get more nights like I had tonight.

I like my husband. I miss him. This sucks.

To The Asshole Who Nearly Killed Me This Afternoon

Yes, you, you total piece of shit. Next time you decide to cross the street in your gigantic SUV at top speed maybe, just maybe you ought to stop READING SOMETHING IN YOUR LAP WHILE YOU CROSS FOUR LANES OF TRAFFIC and maybe you won't come within feet of t-boning a mother of a young baby in her small fuel-efficient car, and she won't have to pound on the gas pedal and pray her four cylinders are enough as she looks out her side window at the grill of your ugly vehicle coming right towards her head as if she wasn't there at all. This is not an exaggeration, you fucking moron. You aren't driving a Festiva, you're driving a piece of machinery that weighs three tons and you have to take responsibility for that.

Christ, I was sick all afternoon from the adrenaline.

What Not To Do

You know, when a full half-dozen people ask me since Peanut was born, "So when are you due again?", it send a strong signal to me that it is time to start Weight Watchers. And while that's all well and good, please, people, don't ask a woman when she's due unless you know for sure she's pregnant. Unless you're looking to ruin her day.

Get Out The Vote

Today, the mail carrier rang my bell because he had a package for me that wouldn't fit in the mailbox. He complimented me on my yard signs, and proceeded to go into a rant on that "fucking idiot Bush", expressing his confusion as to why anyone would even consider voting for him. This from a man with a mullet. As my friend Carlos says, when Bush has lost the mullet vote, there is little hope for him. I hope that is true.

No. Just No.

You know why I never wanted to go back to school to study writing? I'll tell you why. If you study writing, there are two main things you can do with it. One, you can earn a living by writing, which as we all know is not easy. Two, you can teach writing. The problem with that is that you then may have to read a personal essay by a student containing the phrase "immortal essence" or a poem containing the line "scheming, wet, mucilaginous mollusks".

Whatever they are paying my creative writing instructor, they aren't paying her enough.

A Sad Evening

My grandfather is ninety years old. He's a wonderful man, and has been in pretty good shape. Tonight wasn't so good. My younger brother lives with him, but was out tonight. Grandpa had a little too much wine, and tripped getting out of his chair, falling flat on his face. His glasses were pushed into his nose, cutting it in two places and making it swell twice its size, and he wrenched his shoulder. He had also forgotten he had put a pot of water on for tea, and the pot had boiled dry. We went to the hospital to have him checked out, and he's fine. This isn't the first time this has happened, and it always happens after he has had a few glasses of wine.

Nevertheless, I am torn. The man has lived for nearly ninety-one years. He has lived through depressions and wars, survived a flu epidemic that took his father, raised a family and had a successful career, enabling him to retire in financial comfort. And here is his granddaughter, who needed his help just a few months ago to buy a house, having to help him get to the bathroom and scolding him for drinking so much he could have burned the house down. He has to ask for rides to the bank and store now, because he isn't supposed to drive anymore. I can't imagine what this is doing to him. The loss of independence I am feeling now can't even compare. I don't think he is feeling any joy at being alive anymore, and I can't do anything to help him. It makes me very sad.

The good news, which I forgot to mention the other day, is that Peanut has started saying mamamamama. No dadadas in sight. I know she isn't actually calling me Mama yet, but I don't care. Every few months, she does something that makes me so happy that I can't imagine being happier, and then a few months later she tops it. It's truly amazing.

Okay, Okay

I'm going to try to come up with some positives here, so I don't leave with such a cranky post.

1. Peanut is now old enough/heavy enough for OTC cold medicines. Thank God.
2. I got my Kerry/Edwards yard sign today.
3. My mom made dinner and brought it over for me tonight.

And if you haven't watched Desperate Housewives on ABC yet, hoo boy are you missing a good show.

That's it, that's all I've got. I'll feel better tomorrow.

Grump

The Princess is sick, my husband is gone for the week (again), and my team is getting creamed for the third time in a row on Monday Night Football. And Superman died. I haven't felt much like blogging for a few days, and I think that will continue for another day or two. Will you miss me?

Sweetness And Light, Damn It

I was awoken this morning by the lights of a police cruiser. The officer was giving a driver a field sobriety test right in front of my house. To the astonishment of everyone, including, I think, the driver, he passed and was allowed to drive away (yes, I watched, you never know what you might see). Since I was now wide awake, I decided to while away the hours by going online, because I have read all my books and fafblog is funnier than anything I have anyway. Unfortunately, I came across photos from the bombings in Egypt that included both a wounded child and a wounded pregnant woman. So, to counter the ugliness and sadness in the world that I just can't bear to think about right now, I am posting this picture of Peanut. Life can be good too. And now I need to go and give her a kiss.

I May Be Edging Into Terrible Mom Territory

I forget to feed my child because I am instead on the internet looking at pages that say:

Finally, a 21-year old heavy-duty pot-smoking, post-hernia-operation over-masturbator said ' my urinary incontinence is absolutely GONE AWAY... Thanks for your great product Dr.Lin !!' Restoring his sexual orgasm in only 1 month!

You too can have your orgasmic problems solved!

Oops

I forgot to feed her again today. You might wonder how it is possible to not remember to feed your child-doesn't she cry? What kind of mother are you? Well, I have already established I am a bad mother, but I will still explain.

This morning Peanut had a physical therapy appointment at 10 am, and an appointment with her orthopedic surgeon at 10:50. We didn't sleep well last night, because of nose stuffiness (I've tried to explain to her that crying hysterically makes it worse, but she can't hear me over the screaming). So she slept later than usual this morning, and since I spent that free time messing around reading blogs instead of packing her diaper bag, finding her clean clothes, and preparing her food, I didn't have time to do those things once she did wake up, because I tend to forget all of these things are necessary before we leave the house. She doesn't fuss specifically for solid food, so I can just give her an extra bottle (yes, we are doing supplemental formula-my body doesn't cooperate with the milking anymore) and she doesn't complain too much. So that is what I did. After the appointments were over, she was cranky and tired, so instead of giving her lunch I put her down for a nap. When she woke up, I forgot that she hadn't eaten yet, and so it wasn't until seven that she actually had a meal.

This might not seem like a big deal, as she is still only eight months old, and some babies are barely starting solids at that age. But it is a big deal with her. She's been eating solids for three months, and they are important because she needs to put on weight. She is *tiny* for her age, and her pediatrician was concerned enough to encourage me to get her eating solids earlier than she normally recommends. It is also necessary for her to put on weight before she has surgery in a few months. So this isn't just a matter of being a careless mother, it is downright bad when I know it is so very necessary. I blame it on being a stay-at-home mom with a traveling husband, because I have no schedule to keep. These things are never my fault.

The good news today is that her legs are looking good, and when we go back to the orthopedist in January, we'll schedule her surgeries. The first one will involve lengthening the muscles and tendons around her knees and in her right foot. She'll be in casts for four weeks, and then her hip surgery will be done. This surgery will involve bone being taken from her femur shaft and put with the ball of the femur, so it is a longer and more complicated operation, which scares me in a way I haven't been scared before. She'll be in a body cast for six weeks after this surgery, and then she'll be back into a short leg cast for her foot for the final three weeks of the ordeal. The goal is to have her out of casts by next summer. Her doctor is doing a similar surgery on another baby with arthrogryposis in January, so he'll be all practiced for her.

I just realized I forgot to read to her before bed tonight too, though she did get a bath.

One Reason To Live In Wisconsin (And Not The Only)

I ordered one.

And The Not-So-Funny

Yes, Peanut, when you poop in the bathtub, Mama cries too.

Bring On The Funny

I am posting this to fulfill my daily journal requirements. I am working on a longer post, but it just isn't flowing right tonight so I'm giving up for the night. In the meantime, here is a joke, courtesy of Rodney Dangerfield, R.I.P.

A lot of girls turn me down. One girl turned me down, she said she had to go to work in the morning. I told her, "I'll be finished by then!"

Sorry.

Queen Amidala Is A Democrat

Oh, and my brother met Natalie Portman today.

But She Can Touch Her Toes

To make up for the last link. Yes, my daughter is *that* tiny.

Aaaaaah!

Awful Plastic Surgery

Aaaaaaah! [pokes eyes out with sharp stick]

Be A Joiner

For those interested, Laura at 11D has opened up the Work/Family conference on her blog. To participate, just add your comment to her posts. Or, just go and read 'em.

I'm Famous

The things you find when you look to see who has been looking at your blog:

Butterbath

Some people think very differently than me.

Break-Down

In the last week, our (brand new) water heater, vacuum, computer, car, and inside telephone line all decided to take a break from working. They were apparently following the example of our range hood, outside security light, and telephone, all of which have taken permanent vacations in the last few weeks.

It is a good thing I don't work on the space shuttle.

One More Thing

I happen to know I have some very intelligent women, both with and without children, who stop by here (I'm so lucky!), and they have a lot to say and like to say it. Laura at 11D is looking for just those kinds of women (and men too, actually). She is organzing a blog conference on blogging, work and the family for next week, and is has a tentative schedule up at her site, though she is still taking suggestions for topics. This conference will be looked at by influential women in academia and business, who are interested in hearing about experiences being a woman with children working, wanting to work but not being able to, or not having kids because of work or because you waited too long, for example. Single people and men are also welcome to participate, discussing how family issues affect their work too. I believe they are also going to talk about how the internet has changed mothers' lives as well. It looks to be interesting, so maybe we can jump-start our brains and participate.

This is my second post today. I'm rolling, baby!

Ungrateful Daughter

So I was having a bad day the other day. Peanut wasn't sleeping well at night, and that day she hadn't even napped. I had class that night and still hadn't been able to do my homework because she wasn't napping, and had stacks of dirty dishes in the kitchen and piles of laundry. I was exhausted, and also PMSy, which meant that my ability to deal with the stress was seriously compromised. My mother was coming over to watch Peanut while I was in class, and I had called and asked her to come a little early so I could finish my homework. I made this call practically in tears, with Peanut screaming in the background.

My mother is a wonderful woman, usually very kind and thoughtful. She has never been one of those mothers who tell you to get your hair out of your face or ask if you really plan to eat that second bowl of ice cream. She has never told me that I was anything other than brilliant, talented, and beautiful. I love her very much, and am lucky to have her. And you know, she was doing me a favor by coming over and watching the baby. So maybe I am being silly about what came next, but I am pretty sure I have readers who will understand.

By the time Mom got here, Peanut had fallen into an exhausted sleep, and I was just settling down for a frantic skimming of my readings, having forgotten just how much I had to do. Mom came in, took a peek in at the baby, and sat down on the couch. Then she laid down. Closed her eyes. And. Took. A. Nap.

The mothers of babies I have reading here will understand what it is like to watch someone take a nap on your couch when your baby (and therefore you) hasn't slept more than an hour straight for days. For my mother to do this, in the middle of the week when my husband was gone from Monday morning until late Friday night, with the house a shambles...well, let's just say I was not quite fully appreciative of her wonderful qualities.

I didn't say anything. I finished my homework, with enough time left to do some dishes and get cleaned up. I woke her up and told her I was leaving for class. When I got home, I had forgotten to get some stuff at the grocery store, and she ran out for me so I could stay and nurse Peanut. So I shouldn't be worked up about the nap. But I couldn't help it. I am so jealous of people who can just doze off in the evening while reading a book, it is unbelievable.

Anyway, I just had to get that out.

Peanut was difficult because she just started getting her second tooth in. She likes to sneakily grab my finger when I'm holding her and not paying attention, slowly guide it to her mouth, and then chomp down on it, making me yelp. She'll look up at me with a big grin on her face, and try it again. She's sleeping better now, and last night slept from ten p.m. until half past eight this morning. I hope for both our sakes that that continues, because she seems happier when she sleeps like that too.

A Moment of Your Time, Please

I don't care who you plan to vote for in November (well, I do, but that's another post), but I am going to assume that the Americans who read this blog don't approve of government-sponsered torture. After all, isn't the reason we went into Iraq (at least, the one being put forth now) that Saddam was a horrible dictator who tortured his own citizens?

Sponsors of a bill now in the House seem to think that it is okay to allow other countries to torture people suspected of having terrorist ties, and to allow us to send these suspects to these countries, knowing that they will be tortured. Apparently it wasn't the fact that Saddam tortured that was wrong, it was the fact he tortured the wrong people. They've buried it in the bill that implements the 9/11 commission recommendations, one of which was that this particular policy NOT be implemented. Even if you are someone who believes a (suspected) terrorist deserves everything bad he gets and then some, please read the blog post Making Light, which explains what "extraordinary rendition" is, who it can apply to (people with think might be associated with terrorists, whether or not there is proof), and why it is next to useless in the war on terror.

The good news is that Rep. Edward Markey of Massachusetts is sponsering a bill amendment that would remove this provision and outlaw it entirely. However, there are only a limited number of representatives signing on. When you click on the link above, there is a list in the comments of reps who have done so. If yours is not on this list, please write to your respresentative and ask them to support this amendment. If you don't know how to contact your rep, clicking here will send you to the government site that tells you who it is and how to do it. If you are short on time or don't know what to say, there are posts in the comment thread with examples of letters already sent whose authors have given permission for you to copy and/or amend. This bill is supposed to come up next week, so you need to do this right away in order for your voice to be heard. And if yours is on the list of supporters, drop a note to let them know they did the right thing, and it will help them to do the right thing next time too.

I want to be able to look my daughter in the eye someday and tell her that I stood up for her and for our country, and just exactly what that means. I do not want her to think that I approved of torture done in her name as well as in mine. I feel bad that I don't give as much of my time as I should trying to better the world (outside of raising a good citizen), but with two minutes I can do something. This isn't going to go away if we pretend it doesn't exist. Our government is supposed to represent us, and it is our responsibility to make sure it does. When policies like this are put into place, we all look bad.