It's Been One of Those Days

The kind with new friends, who come over to your house and make themselves at home.

When comments like, "I'm just randomly going through your stuff to find what I need," make perfect sense.

The kind of day when the roar of 11(!) kids from nine months to four years old and all those musical instruments you were so excited for your girls to have suddenly turns into background noise while you and five women hang out.

How is that memory peaceful even though it's only from a few hours ago?

It's been the kind of day where homemade heart cookies and frosting colored with beet juice made it all even sweeter.

Enough

I have just given up a friendship.  I am sad and mad and upset, but mostly I am fine.  It was both sudden and not.

This friendship was an important one to me.  We met while expecting our babies, who ended up being born on the same day, just a few hours and rooms apart.  I had dreams of our kids being lifelong friends.

It's one thing to be friends with other parents of newborns, but trickier once the kids get a little older.  Maybe a year ago after I listened to yet another story about the screaming match she got into with her not quite two year old and the nit-picking of her husband's faults*, Tom and I agreed that maybe they are not "our people" after all.

*Not that we haven't all complained about our spouses now and again.  These stories often took venting to new levels.

Then there were the two years in a row when they were invited to our house, confirmed, and then ended up at a different friend's home instead.  And that other friend?  Lived about the same distance from them that we do, only in another direction.

More importantly, there was that call I made to her last year around this time.  Struggling and feeling like I was drowning, I turned to her.  Told her what I was going through and didn't quite buy it when she said she couldn't hear me well and ended the call.  A month later she wrote to apologize and I just let it go without comment.

This friend had a second baby two months ago, a daughter.  Some of the stories I heard several weeks back... the last time I called, because I am always the one who calls... reminded me of our own Mad-A-Girl.  The independence, the determination.  I laughed and said, "Sounds like you've got your own Madelyn!"

Are those bad words?

Because when we spoke today she said her husband was upset that I would say something negative, you know, about his baby.

"But I told him you didn't mean it that way, in a bad way."

"And then there's the fact that there is absolutely nothing wrong with my daughter."

Sometimes in life I have overreacted and/or been too quick to react.  It's not a mistake I like to keep making, so I let the conversation end itself naturally (not before listening to how she can't relate to other moms who have a second baby because she's just so darn sure it's worse for her than it is for anyone else.  Really?!?).

I spoke with Tom and I spoke with Nancy.

If it were just the stupid comment about my girl, I'd probably attribute it to sleep deprivation and extra hormones.  But all in all, I've had enough.

I contemplated writing a lengthy email detailing my exact feelings (this is the Reader's Digest version, in case you were wondering), but instead decided to call her back.  I got their answering machine and left a message.  I wanted to say that I loved her kids, but I didn't.  I just said I couldn't be friends with someone who thought comparing their child to my own was hurtful, upsetting or offensive (all words that were used, can you believe it?) and that I would just enjoy the memories of when I thought we were friends.  And that is it.

And it is.

Or it will be once I get over it.

Can You Keep It Straight?

Today my girls and I went to a cookie exchange.  We took cranberry pumpkin bread that I learned how to make because of Bossy Betty.  So yummy.  Especially if you realize you didn't add sugar before popping that last batch of mini loaves into the oven.  *In our oven, the cranberry pumpkin bread (second recipe in that link) took about 34 minutes for four mini loaves.  We're just under the 3000 feet above sea leave mark, so I'm not sure if that's the difference.

To avoid minimize potential problems, I didn't tell Madelyn that it was a cookie exchange or even that cookies would be involved.  I said we were going to see friends.

These friends?  They're from an online mommy group that I just couldn't bust into last year to save my life.  This year?  Not to brag (seriously, I'm just grateful and kind of in awe), but the cookie exchange was changed from yesterday to today so I could go.  I'd only met one of the women in real life before, but it wasn't at her house.  The rest were friends waiting to be made.

As far as Mad was concerned, she was already friends with everybody.

As I pulled her from the car seat, a woman came out to greet us and see if I needed help bringing everything in.  Mad went up to her and said, "Hi, can you call me Rocket?" and then ran into this house we've never been to before.  Went straight in and found the kids in a back room of the house.

Eventually she came back to the front, where another little girl was playing.  Mad walked over and said, "Hi.  I want to be called Rocket.  Can you call me Rocket and keep it straight, please?"

And then I was forced to reveal that Mad's real nickname is The Director.

Home. Friends.

This is the post I almost believed I'd never write.

Sorry I've been getting so far behind on reading blogs.  I have been busy.  Making friends.  Smiling.  Laughing.  Planning.  Happy.

That mommy group I could never meet up with for activities?

I've been meeting.  I've been active.

In the past three weeks I have:

Learned to make and can jalapeno jelly and strawberry jam.  Turns out it's so much easier than I would have guessed.  And fun.

Ordered tutus from one of mommies for the girls for Fynnie's birthday party.  Mad's will be pink, yellow and purple.  Here's a (blurry) picture of Fynnie's that I snagged.

The blue piece in the center above the bow is a flower for her hair.

Taken a belly dancing class.  There was another one this morning, but I couldn't make it.  I'll catch the next one.  It was fun and a good workout.  Made even better by the fact that I had Fynnie strapped to my body during the whole thing.  Madelyn?  She was busy playing with the other kids or running over to try out our moves.  Oh!  And remember that one miserable trip to the breastfeeding support group when Fynnie was a couple weeks old?  Remember the mama who gave me the blow-by-blow of the last 11 weeks of her pregnancy, labor, delivery, recovery and the status of her relationships with the medical staff at the hospital where all this happened? She was there.  She's been my Facebook friend for a few weeks, but I didn't know until she walked in and started talking.  And talking.  She struck me as nervous (I don't think any of us had met before, except for me and the host... who'd been at the canning party).  I think that 11 months ago she must have really been (understandably) traumatized by the circumstances of her daughter's entree.  And I have to say that I kind of like her.

Supported a mom's endeavors to avoid having her son selling discount cards at the grocery store.  I bought four of them and, along with all the discounts, was thrilled to get a 20 minute photo shoot for my girls.

The girls and I met again with the photographer mama and her girls.  At the mall.  For pretzels and lemonade and to get my CD of photos, but we hung out for almost an hour.  We may start getting together to walk in the mornings.

Applied to host a couple of young women from China for about two and a half weeks.  I think we're in.  They arrive on the second.

Tomorrow I'm hosting a canning "party" of my own.  All I did last time was cut up some strawberries and jalapenos and then fill up and label a few jars.  Neither of the women who are coming tomorrow were at the last event, so I'll be the "knowledgeable" person.  Bahaha!  One of the ladies who is coming is the same one we were able to help out a month or so ago.  The other one is just coming because she's interested.

I've still been going to the gym regularly with my pal, Jennifer.  I did miss two weeks because we were fighting off sinusitis.  Yuck.

And aside from all of the fun and frivolity, there have also been trips with the girls to the local farmer's market and the farmer's market from a neighboring town.  Tom and I took Mad to a cooking class the other night (more on that later).  We're getting out more.  And "out" no longer means just the grocery store or the park.
Tom, Madelyn and I painted that orange wall.  It looks great.  Tom's very happy.  Making such a bold statement started off as just following through on one of our "some day" conversations.  But as the girls and I went to choose the paint, it occurred to me:  Making this dramatic change is akin to transforming our house into a home, something that stalled out a couple of months after we moved in.  (It has also led to a discovery:  If one paints a wall, the first thing one does is stand back and appreciate the new color.  The second is to notice that the other side of the wall really needs to be painted, too.   Still no decisions regarding the niche, but we'll get there.  Maybe I'll ask the ladies tomorrow what they think.)

Oh, what's that?  You want to see pictures from the photo shoot?  Did you think I'd pass up a chance to share my sweet girls?  Feel free to check out the rest of the pictures here.

Mad and Other New Frog

Fynnie Fynn getting ready to crawl away

Could she be any cuter?  No, but does anyone else see that look in her eyes?  The one that says, "Hey, I wonder what your shoulder tastes like!  Mama's tastes great and she makes this awesome sound every time I bite her.  Will you make a sound?

Doesn't she look sweet?  Our photographer friend is amazing.  This shot was taken while Mad was doing the most hilarious slo-mo roll around the floor, arms and legs up in the air.  It reminded me of some old SNL episodes with Molly Shannon.

First Friend

Tuesday Night I Had a Date. With a Girl! Nay, a Woman!

And I liked it.

Mm-hmm, that's right.

Sure, Tom and I had a date night scheduled for last night (our first since out anniversary in November).  But I have needs, people.  Needs!

If you've been hanging around for a while, you know that I have not been able to make any friends since moving up here.  Not that I haven't tried.  You can catch a small sampling of my struggles here.

Recently, the alleged mommy group from Facebook went silent.  I don't whip around on there as well as some people, so it took me a  while to realize I wasn't hearing about yet another event scheduled when I couldn't attend.  I looked into it only to learn that "my" group was pretty much defunct and a new group had taken it's place.  The name was almost the same, but with the word Christian added.

I am not Christian.  I am not anything.  In fact, the best descriptor I've heard for people like me is "good for nothing."

I have nothing against Christians (well, except for that hate group that travels to the funerals of dead soldiers... I have a lot against them) or any religious groups.  I am aware that my lack of religion makes people uncomfortable.  (My stance is that I will not attempt to convert you; please do the same.)  And I suppose that the opposite is also true to some degree.  So I'm probably not going to be joining a group with any religious affiliation in the title.  Especially if the group has just been narrowed down from something for all.

I hadn't yet figured out how gotten around to withdrawing from the original group.  About two weeks ago it was suddenly blowing up again.  Yes, there were group activities I couldn't quite attend (an hour before the end of the workday before I go on summer break? really?!).

One woman posted a desperate plea for diapers.  On Monday evening, I met her to give her a box along with some wipes.  It was nice and fits well with my Pay It Forward philosophy.  She's my new Facebook friend and I like her.

Did you know that Tuesdays are "my" night?  Tom's night is Thursday (and apparently also Sunday morning).  He plays tennis.  It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I feel desperate enough ready to have a night of my own and leave putting the girls down to him.  I had gone to the gym three weeks in a row.  There's a fun looking dance class that I've watched each week.  The more I didn't go to it, the more I knew I wasn't going.  By last Tuesday afternoon, I realized that the possibility of going to that class had been a major draw in getting me to the gym at all.  But my motivation (the Achilles heel of my exercising life) was plummeting.

Connecting with Kim the night before emboldened me.  I posted on the mommy group wall:

I know it's late notice, but I'm looking for a Tuesday night workout buddy. I have a membership to 24 Hour Fitness, which is great, but I'd really love to do something *with* someone. Could be the gym, walking/extremely slow jogging with lots of heavy breathing and possibly some grunting coming from your partner (I'll try to keep the cursing to a minimum). I'm available any time after 6:30, tonight or future Tuesdays. My ideal partner will generally be able to resist suggestions like, "Why don't we just go to Starbucks and hang out?"

Thirty seconds later and the group that had been humming along was silent.  Dead.  It was all my fault.  I killed it!  My use of the word grunting probably turned them off.  Or that I only said I'd try to keep my mouth under control.
 
All of a sudden there was a response!  A woman was available to work out with me.  At the end of July.
 
And another woman was up for something.  After she heals from an upcoming surgery.  How about the middle of July?
 
*sigh*  Does it seem like I am cursed to never make friends up here?  I thought so, too.
 
But then it happened.  *cue the angels singing as clouds parted and the sun bursts through dark ominous clouds*
 
Someone was available that night.  And she's a member at my gym.
 
And she, Jennifer, arrived on time!
 
And we have the same workout stamina and style!
 
Did you know that half an hour on the elliptical can go by lickety-split if you're chatting and laughing and acting out Bossy Betty's elliptical story?
 
We had so much fun while building muscles (except for that one arm device... that was an instrument of torture) and toning our butts.  Well, my butt.  Thank god I didn't look at Jennifer's Facebook profile or I would have realized I was going to the gym with a pretty, young, thin woman.  I am shallow and easily intimidated sometimes, I'll admit it.
 
For the first time in my month of working out (plus the *ahem* four years before that when I did not go at all), I stayed at the gym an entire hour.  We left laughing and looking forward to next week.  And that class that I've been not attending?  Jennifer is willing to try it, too.
 
When I got home, I couldn't believe all the responses I'd gotten.  No fewer than six people want to get together.  With me.

Bad News/Good News

Fynn is finally starting to be less boobiefied.  She'll even stop at night so Daddy can put her to bed instead of nursing off to dreamland.  I'm happy letting her nurse as long as she wants (pretty much), but it's also exciting to have a bit more freedom.

Yesterday I called my local parks and rec department and left a message saying I'm interested in teaching a sign class.  Mentioned that I'd taught down the hill for 13 years.

Today a woman called back.  Her name was familiar.  She said that the budget cutbacks have hit parks and rec; they are cutting classes, not adding them.  We agreed that this is utter nonsense since the cost of hosting my class is essentially paying someone to type my info into the online community guide and paying someone else to pay me periodically.

So that's the bad news.

The good news is that the woman's name was familiar because she was the person who hired me 15 years ago.  She said, "I'm familiar with the quality of your work and I'd love to have you.  Please fill out a contract and I'll let you know when something opens up."

That made me feel pretty darn awesome.

And the not being able to teach a class up here just yet?  Well, I consider it one more roadblock in my path to making friends up here.  It's almost entertaining at this point. 

Tom and I did a bit of home market research.  The countdown is well under way.  All we need in order to move is 11 months and a down payment.  The time part is taking care of itself quite nicely (although I was devastated yesterday to learn it was only Tuesday morning and not Wednesday afternoon).  The down payment part?  Well we're saving.  At this rate it'll be about six(ty) years before we're able to afford the area where we want to live. 

Maybe by then my classes will be established and I'll have made some new friends.

Party Planning

Tom decided he'd like Mad's third birthday party to be WordWorld themed.  Or The Wiggles.  I have never really disliked a kids' show until seeing a few episodes of The Wiggles.  Granted, they have some catchy tunes, but they also... okay, they're just weird.  And they're not my kind of weird.  Ugh!

More importantly, do we have to have commercial themes?  We did get her a musical Elmo balloon last year (the music piece lasted five or six months longer than the balloon itself... an excellent investment in Mad's eyes), but are we really the type of people whose parties match up with television shows?  We may as well shop at WalMart, catch Bieber fever and start teaching Mad that Hannah Montana is an excellent role model right now.

*sigh*

Margaret and I did a little birthday decoration reconnaissance Monday night.  Stopped at a home decoration store rumored to have butterfly nets for cheap.  When you're looking at a dozen kids, they weren't that cheap, and for some reason, the more appropriately sized small ones were twice as much as the large ones.

Went to the dollar section at Target and found the small ones for a buck.  Along with some frog slippers and a frog magnifying glass.  Have I ever mentioned Mad's unswerving adoration for frogs?  I do find it ironic, since my dad insisted on calling me Froggie from age 11 to probably 19 or 20.  It was cute for about three minutes.  People loved to gift me with frog statuettes, stationary, stickers specially printed with my "name."  Beginning at age 22, frogs were given away, donated or tossed with every move.  I moved four times that year alone.

It's probably inevitable, Mad's frog love.  She also loves ducks.  They do not have quite the same luster as fwogs, rather they are fwogs' pond buddies and, as such, held in a position of esteem.

Behold part of her collection of frogs and ducks:

Allow me to introduce you to some of her friends.  Back Row: Duck, New Frog, Backpack Frog, Other New Frog.  Front Row:  Another New Frog (sometimes known as Fynnie's Frog, which Mad reclaims as often as possible), Little Green Frog (AKA Original F.R.O.G., this is the dude that started the craze... ahem... for Tom... before Mad was born), Duck and Frog Blanket.  (Not pictured because she's sleeping on him right now:  Big Green Daddy Frog and a collection of fuzzy and rubber ducks, but no, not fuzzy rubber ducks.)

The other morning on the drive to Grandma's, I asked Mad, "What do you want to do for your birthday that is coming up?"

"I need chocwet."

"Yes, honey, that's because you're my daughter.  What do you want to do?"

"I need chocwet and white."

"You want chocolate cake?"

"Yeth."

"And white cake?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you want a cake or would you rather have cupcakes?"

"I ravviveler have cupcakes!"

"Chocolate cupcakes and white cupcakes?"

"Yeth.  I need chocwet cupcakes and white cupcakes.  And a spoon.  And ice cweam."

One thing I love about my girl, that ability to separate the needs from the wants.

Today we made more progress in the party planning details.  There's a cupcake bakery that recently won Cupcake Wars.  Margaret pulled the address for me so I could check 'em out.  I asked Mad if she had any particular decorations she wanted on her cupcakes.

"Yes, ummm... I want fwogs."

"Anything else?"

"And ducks.  And fwogs and ducks."

In case that wasn't clear, this evening she explained the whole situation to Tom.  Covering her bases, don'tcha know.

Tonight Tom made invitations that feature a frog who is a complete unknown in the world of children's television.  Or probably any television.  Printed on duck yellow paper.  Has some cute wording.  I gave it a fun font.  More of a garden/pond feeling than a theme.  At our house in the desert.  All is well.  (Yes, I am dying to go all "ducky" here, but a modicum of restraint, people!)

Good Times

I added the link within gadget to my blog.  I have enjoyed using it on some other blogs to read or re-experience stories.  Turns out I like it just as much on my own blog.  I initially started this blog (a bazillion years ago practically) as a journal.  This was back in the days when "comments" were titled, "poseurs" and there was nothing I could do to change it (oh, except learn coding).  The stuff from way back in the day is pretty badly written.  As one of my friends said, "Um, I'm not sure where you were going with that.  I read it and I was like, WTF?"  (Hello!  I was going for mysterious and subtle.  So I'll take your WTF as a sign of my success, whoop whoop!)


It's one o'clock right now, and not really unusual for me to be online.  Mostly I can't type because it's one-handed, in the dark fumbling while hunching over my daughter that makes my back hurt.  Tonight I've been following links from one part of my past to another.  I'm mostly pleased.  Yes, I'm willing to accept sleep deprivation and elevated hormones as reasons I find it fun to go through.


But as much as I've enjoyed reliving some of my own memories (which sounds strange even to me, but hey... most of my stories involve my kids), the comments have been equally great to re-read.  For those of you commenters who are still around, thanks again!  Much love and happiness to you.


And now, the fact that I've had both hands free for 20 minutes or so means I really need to get myself to bed while the getting's good.  Sleep sweet all!

No Cigar

Today is a couple of things.  It's one month since Fynnie's birthday.  It's Mad's first trip down to Grandma's on Tom's way to work since Fynn's was born.  It's back to school night for Corey.  It's that mommy group meeting.  Typically Tom stays late down the hill on Wednesdays for training, but he took Mad so I could go to the group.


Fynnie and I both managed to get bathed and dressed.  I was running too late (thanks to someone's explosive behind) to put on makeup, but I mostly don't wear any these days anyway.


The meeting is 90 minutes long, 20 miles or so away.  We headed out to the car seven minutes before it started.  So I was going to be late at best.  Then I discovered that the carrier base had been removed from my car.  Yes, we do have a second base.  It's still in the box in the garage.  Seeing that I was already running late... and Fynn was shrieking her displeasure at even being in the car seat to begin with... I decided to throw in the towel.  This was my last chance to go since I'll have Mad on the rest of the Wednesdays.  Chances are not great that I would have met a new friend there anyway, right?  I mean, last time I certainly didn't. 


It's not a specific person that I'm missing here... it's that there was a chance I'd meet a kindred spirit.  Earlier this week I found three other mom groups, not just in my area, but in my city.  I was so excited until I learned that each one has disbanded.  I don't have any ideas of where else to turn, but I need to find friends up here. 

Reason 1,428,982 Why I Love My Coworkers

The kids and I* went down the hill for a chiropractic appointment today.  When we arrived, Corey walked over to my mom's house.  This time he'll be gone for the weekend.  I love taking Mad to these appointments.  Once we're in the room, she helps me change the face paper (why don't people do that before they leave?) and raise the headrest.  While I'm laying there waiting for the doctor, Mad uses the foot levers and puts her hands up over my arm to "help fix Mama's back."  I usually get lots of smooches, too, which makes her adjustments significantly different from what Doc does.


The chiropractor is right around the corner from my office, so we stopped in to say hello before heading to Grandma's house.  We took the long way to my desk, so we could drop by as many people as possible before getting to the nuthouse section.  Since it's Friday and the middle of summer, almost no one was there.  Perfect!  (Mad's less shy than she has been, but she's also more cranky lately, so I'm not being sarcastic... this time.)  Only three people (out of 10) were in my area.  We were all happy to see one another, and they loved seeing my curly-wurly.  She didn't love them quite as much and decided to sprawl out on the floor to avoid any touching from the possibly slightly overly affectionate Aunt Jill.


As I went to rescue her pick her up, Jill started talking about how great I look.  In particular, what a fine ass I have while pregnant.  She called over another person who concurred.


Okay, I've seen what I have and it really ain't pretty or fine, but they made me smile.  And I might have checked myself out when I used the restroom before heading off to Grandma's.  (And I might have confirmed what I already know, but I love them all the more for being sweet... in our typically inappropriate fashion, of course.)


*I've only begun using that phrase, "the kids and I" in the past few months.  I kind of like it.  Makes me sound like I've got more than two kids.

Support System Down

When Madelyn was able to come home from the hospital, we were advised to take her the next day to Healthy Beginnings.  It was part of the hospital's services for new moms and babies.  In addition to the best baby boutique anywhere, they offered breastfeeding and newborn support.  You could deliver anywhere and still get free services.  One of the coolest things was that they had this wand to check bilirubin levels, whereas the doctor's offices in the area all do blood tests.  Considering that my poor baby had to be heel-pricked no less than four times a day for monitoring of the meds she was on while in NICU, I was relieved she didn't have to go through that again.  Mad and I ended up there several times a week for a while, because we had so much difficulty establishing breastfeeding.  Although she started out at 8 pounds, 3 ounces (slightly above average), her weight quickly had her in the 20-25% range for weight (and 95th for height... probably the only time in her life she'll be called scrawny).  Once she was six weeks old, we switched from newborn support to a breastfeeding support class.  Those weekly group meetings were a lifeline to keep up the effort as my milk supply limped along.  Advice was offered and taken.  I took herbal supplements and increased my water intake.  I nursed-pumped-bottle fed.  But it was not militaristic.  When the recommendation was finally made to supplement with formula, I sobbed.  The lactation specialist, Jeri, held me in her arms and whispered soft words about what a good mother I was, and all the benefits my baby had gotten from all of my hard work.  She talked about a study she'd read that said babies who get four ounces of breastmilk a day still appeared to reap all the benefits.  "A full baby is a happy baby," I was told, and I knew it was true.


Mad and I attended that group until she was about a year old.  If I had questions about sleeping or solid foods or milestones, I knew I could go to Jeri for guidance.


Even though we're so far away, it has been our plan to use their services with Fynn, too.  I mean, hopefully we'll get to start nursing right away, and nothing will hamper our chances for success.  But to whatever degree we need, we've planned to be there.


When Tom and I attended the early pregnancy class, Pamela mentioned to us that the grant used to fund Healthy Beginnings was in jeopardy.  After we took the refresher course for prepared childbirth a few months ago, she said things would likely not be free anymore, and she didn't know what would be offered until the grant was finalized one way or the other.  One of our good friends, Dayna, recently took her newborn daughter over to Healthy Beginnings because they have a woman who does the most adorable clay handprints.  This woman mentioned that services are no longer free, and that they don't offer all the services anymore.  Dayna mentioned it to me, so I went to investigate yesterday before my checkup.


The first thing I noticed were the hours of operation.  Tuesdays and Thursdays used to be their long days.  Now the clinic area is only open until 1:00.  When I went in, my beloved receptionist, Sandy, wasn't there.  Why do I love Sandy?  Because for all the women and babies who've been in there, and I must have met 60 or so over the time we were going, Sandy always knows who I am.  She never calls my daughter Madelyn, she calls her a nickname she made up based on our last name. 


Phew! Turned out she was just off for the afternoon.


The stand-in receptionist explained the new fee structure to me.  It's not horrible but, along with the commute, it will add to the reasons we (hopefully) won't go as much. 


Breastfeeding support group?  Gone.
Postpartum support group?  Gone.
Moms Supporting Moms (the mommy group where we met Madelyn's first friends) that Pamela ran?  Gone.
Pamela?  Gone. 


Well, in her case it's all worked out for the best.  Her older daughter is in Washington and her youngest just left to Utah for school.  Pamela and her husband had talked about moving out of California anyway, I guess.  So they put their house on the market, sold it after a bidding war three days later, went to Utah and found their dream house the following weekend, had a short escrow and have been gone for a few weeks.  Utah is a very lucky state these days.


The good news from that recon mission?  Jeri was there.  She explained that the hospital had stepped in to keep the center open when a new grant was not forthcoming. We spent almost an hour catching up and talking about the changes at the center.  We talked about our sons, who are very similar.  I was there so long that I was almost late for my prenatal appointment.


I had already looked into mommy groups up here.  My backup hospital has one.  Since it's a Catholic hospital, I'll be calling to find out if it's a religious-based group or not.  Hopefully they'll take a heathen and her baby.  If that works out, it could be just the thing I need to start making good friends up here.

From Learning To Sit Up To Learning To Sit Still

Mad, Zach, Jovie, Luke (Heather) and Samantha (Valeria) in October, 2008:

And again in the same order yesterday.

Yeah, that's my girl screaming her head off.