By Request Only

A friend of mine suggested I devote a post to internet dating, but the very thought of it depressed me. Why? Because internet dating depresses me. The whole thing is sad. There are hundreds of thousands of people out there, wonderful people, with lots to offer. Good cooks, great lovers, wonderful parents; men and women who, given the chance and right circumstances, would make a terrific partner for some lucky person. So they sit themselves down and do their best to sell themselves in so many words or pictures, then sit back and are judged on their likes and dislikes, their income and weight, and their spelling and grammar. Some people lie, and some people neglect to share important bits of information about themselves, and some people are covered head to toe in tattoos and are recovering meth addicts who use to weigh 490 lbs. But most of them are just lonely, and hopeful, and a bit desperate to be happy, and I hate being one of them.

However, since I was sent an email today with a rather innocuous-looking collection of photos of single gentlemen, I figured there was no time like the present. Plus it meant I could sneak in another post today. Check me out!

So here. Let’s look at my latest offerings. Luckily I did not have to weed anyone out immediately due to an unfortunate hat (cowboy, top, or crown), hand puppet, or inclusion of latest kill in their profile pic.

I only trust two people out of all these guys. Can you guess which two? No cheating. Write down your guesses on a piece of paper before we begin. Look, it's like a little game, how exciting. You didn't think you'd get all this from my blog now, did you. If you don’t have a piece of paper, feel free to use whatever’s handy. Old receipt, dirty napkin, used tissue, I’m not particular. And now you’re starting to understand more about why I’m using online dating.

Alright, ready? Let’s break it down, starting with Top Left.

First of all, we’ve got Non-Smiler, Slightly Angled. He is trying to show he’s serious, but a little wacky, I guess. He dropped out of a PhD program and hasn’t found much more motivation since, apparently. He lists his favorite shoes. He shares a foot fungus story. If you are wondering why his main photo is one where he isn’t smiling, well, the photos where he IS smiling are worse because he looks like a serial killer. He plays guitar (DEATH! Why do guys on internet dating sites think this is hot to girls?! Is it 1962 again?!). Let's move on quickly, the foot fungus story was the highlight here.

Next up is My Future’s So Bright, My Face is Eating My Sunglasses. He wants to know if you are ready to submit your “flight plan” (his air quotes, not mine). I give him kudos for having the balls to list the Spin Doctors under his musical faves, but then take the points away because now I’ll have that shitty song in my head for the rest of the weekend. I take more points away because he lists ‘the smell of a woman’ as one of the things he couldn’t live without and I went ‘ewwwwwww’ in my head. Obviously he doesn’t know what a woman really smells like. He has a realistic age range, so he got points back, and we actually had a fair amount in common as far as TV shows and that kind of stuff. I was searching his quiz answers, wondering why he was hiding behind the shades and therefore setting off my alarm bells when I found the answer – this dude does NOT like the fatties. No ma’am, not one bit. Therefore we shall keep going.

Finishing off the top row with a snazzy black and white photo op is Mr. GoodFellow. Mr. GF does not realize how many guys online have online profiles where they are nicknamed ‘GoodFellow’ or variations thereof. The worst ones are the ones like ‘Ilovemykids’. You know, I didn’t call myself ‘BigTits’ or ‘WillHelpYouMove’. Ugh. Bait. I hate bait. So anyhow, Mr. Marketing Himself here with his Glamour Shots photo is 40, but looking to date someone between the ages of 32-39, so sadly I’m out of his age range. He’s a short, balding Christ-fearing man who does not drink. Quite the catch, George Costanza, I’ll be crying into my drink all night over the loss. With my gorgeous, luxurious hair.

Moving to the middle row and Dude with Dog – Now, this is a good one. Innocent-seeming enough, 43 years old, Research Scientist, likes playing World of Warcraft. Married. Polyamorous. Looking for some more friends to play games with. I just knew something was off with that one. If you picked him for me – SHAME ON YOU. SHAME!

Ok, Mr. Middleman. He’s one of the two I trusted. Ummmm... yeah. I have nothing bad to say about him. I would propose to him tonight if I could be sure I could get him on the phone. I'll work on that one. I even like his shirt.

Phone Dude – He looks like he’s in an AT&T commercial for Unlimited Nights and Weekends. Look how happy he is, talking all he wants, free from worry about paying for those nights and weekends. In his profile he talks about how he likes to ‘smile at babies’ TWICE, just in case you missed it the first time, so you know he’s sincere. He’s a lawyer, so the high-maintenance catalog-looking photo may be real. Says he likes chick flicks. Mentions his 3-lb Maltese an awkward amount. Uses the word ‘metrosexual’ and you can hear the pride in his voice. My lifestyle upset his lifestyle just by reading his profile. I can't even be angry. Look at him! Sell me something!

Bottom Left is the total opposite. This is the other dude I trusted, 41, looking for women 28-42. He’s a Jew who loves his 5-year old little girl and has a couple of dogs. He makes a decent salary. He’s a bit of a schlub but I respect that. Not a lot there for us, but at least he’s not going to try to vacuum me with a dust buster, or make me give him a blow job to the Spin Doctors.

That brings us to Bottom Row Middle, and I just have to heave a heavy sigh when someone’s profile starts out with, ‘I am a paradox in many ways’. In his other pic he’s wearing a Superman t-shirt. He’s 40, looking to date women 25-40. Scratch that, not looking to date, looking for ‘activity partners’. *sigh* again. I bet most of you would have picked this one for me, right? Kinda nerdy, you thought you had this one pegged. Nope, I knew this one was trouble. That smile is too eager, it's dangerous. Guess what – he also likes DESSERT! This type would shyly ask you if you wanted to take a shower with him, then you’d turn around and he’d have an empty beer bottle in his hand. True story. Horrible, true story.

Aw, Grandpa! Hurray, I’m in his 40-53 age range! This is a great example of the kind of guy who is always messaging The Ta. The old dudes LOVE The Ta. Sadly, his profile has been updated that he is currently dating a cute blonde, so he is off the market. Of course. See, all the good ones are taken. He’s so precious. His profile says he’s trying to learn Crystal Reports, and that he likes fresh tomatoes and biscuits. I seriously giggle when I get messages from guys like this because it feels so wrong. I’m like, 28 in my head. That is just gross. Then I sober up and want to die, and look longingly at the profiles of the 22 year old dudes, and realize I better meet someone before Jenny starts bringing boyfriends home.

In the process of writing this, I was messaged by a number of guys. The danger of accessing your online profile is that it refreshes, meaning, it shows you are online or active. I received a very tempting email from a Fabio38. No lie. Fabio is in town only a short time. He knows we probably don’t have a whole lot in common, but thinks we’d have a lot of fun together. I at least like that there’s no pretense, that he is upfront about not wanting anything more. I don’t think he needs to sign it ‘hugs’, I would prefer he be honest and sign it ‘roofies’, but hey, whatever.

I did get mad enough to go back through my old messages and find a semi-decent guy I’d ignored in the past, and sent him a scathing message practically demanding he meet me for coffee and a lap dance. I figured it’s been a while since you guys have been entertained with a good blind-date story, and I want to prove that I really am not totally closed off to dating, and so picky and particular that no one is good enough, despite my incredibly harsh review of the Island of Misfit Toys above. So I’ll let you know if the poor unsuspecting victim bites. Or just nibbles gently.

Much Ado About Nothing

I know, right, ANOTHER post from me this week! Can you tell it’s a really, really bad work week? Let’s all say ‘procrastinate’ with Jellybean Mama, ok? Pro-cras-ti-nate. Because, you know, that HELPS get all the nasty work done. I was tagged earlier in the month by a lovely blogger over yonder. The Rules Are:

Rule #1: The tagged person must write their answers on their blog and replace any question they dislike with a new question formulated by themselves.

Rule #2: Tag 4 people to do this quiz; they cannot refuse (OK, so nothing bad will happen if you don’t participate but I would love to see your answers). The tagee must state who tagged them.

1. If you have pets, do you see them as merely animals or are they members of your family?

Nemo is NOT a member of the family. Nemo is a fish that, based on my track record with fish and the fact that Jenny loves to hug things, I thought would most definitely be dead by now, enabling me to have a nice discussion about life and death with Jellybean, having a respectful grieving period, then moving along in the chain in a year or so to the next repulsive adorable pet she begged me for.

2. If you could have a dream come true, what would it be?

Husband, more kids, stay home.

3. What would you do with a billion dollars?
I was actually thinking about this on the way home from drop-off this morning, because I would love to put a hedge maze in my backyard. It’s just so darn big and barren. A hedge maze would be awesome. But then, so would a pool. And a pool would be more realistic, and better for resale value. But since I’m going to move anyhow, doing either would be kind of silly. So I’d do what anyone else would do – pay off the debt, invest, get lipo. Then I’d take my mum to Costa Rica, open a children’s bookstore, and hang out there when I wasn’t in the Caribbean. I might throw some at charities and other family members/friends also. If they suck up accordingly.

4. What helps to pull you out of a bad mood?
Hearing about other people’s misery. The spa. A really good meal. Good news.

5. What is your bedtime routine?
Watch TV after kid is down around 8:10 while checking email etc. on laptop with Salt & Vinegar chips. Bed around 10:30pm. Bo-ring.

6. If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your significant other? If you aren’t, what have you tried in the past few years to meet someone? Don’t like this one. Sick of talking about it. Hmm, a new question…

6. Name something that has surprised you this week about motherhood.

The mistakes I make over and over. This week I both a. Tried to rationalize with a toddler and b. Positively reinforced negative behavior. It doesn’t matter what you know – when you’re tired or off your game, the little f’ers can get you. I knew sooooooo much before I had Jelly, and always stood by my convictions. Now I have to let myself be much more flexible in some ways, but in others, remind myself to be firm when it matters.

7. What kind of books do you read?
Ugh, none, anymore. Since getting pregnant I haven’t had the attention span. I read Entertainment Weekly magazine, and Parents. The occasional book if my mum says I’ll die if I don’t (like the Hunger Games trilogy).

8. How do you see yourself in 10 years?
Back in Canada, probably at this same company if not in the same role. Oh gawd, Jenny will be a teenager. Scratch that, I’ll be in the loony bin. Mental assistance facility.

9. What’s your fear?
Laid off. Injured at home on a Friday night and Jenny is alone all weekend and no one realizes something is wrong til late Monday/Tuesday. Something happens to Jenny and I am expected to live the rest of my life without her. My mum gets Alzheimer’s. Something happens to my parents and one of us needs to take care of my brother.

10. Would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to see outer space?
Weird question. I don’t think so. I like chips an awful lot, and it doesn’t really define how long you’d get to hang out in space for, or what the conditions would be like. Like, if chips would be served.

11. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?
Pee. Then I go into Jelly’s room and crawl into bed with her. Since the time change, I’m having to wake her up, and I’m finding it’s easier if I set an alarm and wake up a little earlier and wake her up very, very slowly. So I do a little ‘snuggle time’ in bed with her before I start poking at her. Then we get up and start the day.

12. If you could change one thing about your significant other, what would it be? Or, if you’re single - if you could choose a significant other who looked like anyone in the world, who would it be?
Jake Gyllenhaal

13. If you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?
I would keep my name, but I really wish people would call me Cate. I love that.

14. If you had to choose between six months of sun or six months of rain, what would you choose?
SUN. I think I have some mild seasonal/weather depression. The rain. Sometimes it gives me the blues. Do people really pick rain? I guess some people choose Coke, so stranger things could happen.

15. If you could only eat one thing for the next 6 months, what would it be?
My first instinct was bacon, but my stomach clenched at the thought of 6 months of bacon. Blergh. Probably PB&J is about the only thing I could face that long. Which is technically three things. So then, rice.

16. What is the thing you enjoy about blogging the most?
Gettin’ it all out.

17. Do you prefer salty or sweet foods?
SALT. Did you not see that whole chips thing?

18. What items are in your purse right now?
Wallet, Kleenex, used Kleenex (JR's), parking passes for various Myrtle Beach hotels, Burt’s Bees, Goldfish crackers, a Mickey Mouse purse, an empty sippy, camera, Flip, sand, sunglasses, child’s sunglasses, pad, pirate bead necklace, cookie

19. If you had to choose between vacationing at the beach or in the mountains where would you go?
Oh, do I even need to say it…

20. What do you watch on television that you know you shouldn't?
I shouldn’t watch any of what I watch – Law & Order SVU, Hoarders, The Soup, it’s all crap. But oh, I love Raising Hope. Watch that damn show if haven’t, it’s great.

But now I get to tag so would love to hear from:

Scattermom

Jen

Bun in the Oven Please!

Dannie A

Tuesdays with Jellybean Mama

I had played through the scenario in my head many, many times. Different versions, different angles. Different locations. His parents’ reaction upon discovering they had a grandchild they did not know about. In my head, of course, it was always like a Hollywood movie. Their house was always spotlessly clean. Jellybean was always clean. My hair was brushed, and I was wearing something other than yoga pants for once. For some reason the TV wasn’t blaring, and there were fresh flowers on the table. No one was fighting, and they were unexpectedly at home when we showed up on their doorstep.

I don’t know why this time was different. What in the scenario had changed. For some reason I was thinking about his sister. Maybe meeting her for lunch, and how nice that would be, for Jelly to see her Aunt R, another real flesh-and-blood local relative. And then I was thinking no, that would not be nice. That would be an immense burden. She would probably call and want to see Jenny, and I would be busy, or she would want to go someplace awful where I wouldn’t want to go, or she would make me drive all the way out to see her and it would be horribly inconvenient. She would be obnoxious, and I would be irritated, because that’s how R. is, and that’s the reality of family.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. But that’s how family is. You love them because you have to, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can be friends with them and also like them. I am lucky, because I do like several members of my family. In fact, I’m very excited that I just booked the Easter trip to Cincinnati again this year, largely because Jelly has talked about NOTHING ELSE for ten months straight, but also because I adore the Cincinnati cousins so much. They’re good people. Hilarious, sarcastic, and take-no-crap. That’s what I come from. No shock there. My Cousin J, Jelly’s substitute local aunt, is another great example of all those things.

However.

As soon as I had that thought, that whole ‘I really would not want to hang out with Quiet’s sister after all’ thought, this huge weight lifted from my shoulders. I kid you not, the car swerved a little bit. Honestly, I don’t know why I had never thought about it from that perspective before. That it wasn’t just my family that sometimes might be a teensy bit annoying. That his family wouldn’t be all fresh baked cookies and smiles and hugs and extra presents at Christmas. Family means obligations and burdens, and doing things you don’t want to do. Family is inconvenience. And especially now, at a time when I’m getting ready to potentially move to Canada? Can you imagine what this would be like if there were all this other family in Jellybean’s life and I had to tell them? It would be horrible. Omg, I would never hear the end of it. It would be awful for them, it would be awful for her. It’s hard enough with The Ta. Just the thought of it is exhausting. How grateful am I at having avoided THAT?!

I don’t know if that’s part of what he had the foresight to avoid, or if it really was just for his own self-preservation; either way, I’m just glad that now I can finally, if not fully, let go of it (because there’s always going to be a little bit of the ‘what if’). But I don’t think there’s going to be that crushing heartsick pain of it that I’ve carried for such an embarrassingly long time. Which is good, because that means I’ll be better prepared when Jenny starts to ask the tough questions. I wish I could have come to it sooner than, you know, FOUR YEARS into it, but to have come to it at all I guess is good. Like, before she was 18. And now I can worry about more important things. How to knock down that kid at soccer without getting caught. I mean, what the heck I’m making for dinner.

Hello, Darkness

You know how it is, the first few days go by. You’re nervous, hesitant. You’re still on guard.

Where is it? Your hands tumble past bottles. One crashes to the ground, but you don’t even care for once that you might wake up the sleeping toddler. Where is it? There’s not enough time, you’re already too late, you know your attempts are futile. You look anyhow.

The days turn into weeks. Do you dare hope? The weeks turn into months and you get really lazy. You get lax in your ways. You forget the old, scary routines. The things that were once so second nature. The things that were always in sight, always in the same place, get shuffled around. Get misplaced, pushed to the back, pushed underneath, packed and never unpacked. You just don’t need them anymore. It’s such a sweet relief. Who knows when you’ll need them next! Will you ever need them again? Who knows! You’re so carefree.

Your hands knock random toiletries into the sink. Hairspray. Perfume. Toothpaste. That’s not it, that’s not it. Where was it? Where could it be? It took it to Boston. I took it to the beach. Was that it? Was that the last time? When did I last see it? A sob catches in your throat. Don’t cry! You hiss at yourself angrily. That will just make it worse, don’t cry. But you cry anyhow, unbidden and unwanted.

How did it come to this? You know exactly how it came to this. You started messing around with your dosage. You thought you knew better than the nice doctor who wrote your prescription. You figured things were going pretty well, other than that whole little problem. But was that one nasty little side effect worse than this? To be fair, non-stop diarrhea is pretty lousy. But was it worth this? Was it worth the chills and the shakes, the pain and the aches that you’ll have tomorrow, the time that you’ll lose, the lack of sleep and ensuing irritation that you’ll have with Jelly?

You finally stop yourself. Just stop. And think. You close your eyes and try to remember where you saw it. Your dresser. Your messy, messy dresser top. Strewn with clothes, toys, jewelry, a plastic toy baby bottle. You run to the bedroom, but you know it’s already too late. You stand there for a moment with the pill bottle in your hand, one brief moment of success, then turn around and run back to the bathroom, the bile already in your throat, the dinner you just finished eating less than 20 minutes ago ready to escape. You crash to your knees and heave into the toilet, splashing vomit into your hair like it’s the first time you’ve done this.

You heave until nothing else comes up. You wipe your mouth, your forehead, and crawl down the stairs. You repeat the familiar old process that you haven’t done in so long. Hands shaking and teeth chattering, you force yourself to go through the motions, reminding yourself that doing it now will make all the difference later. You pour yourself some ice water, drag the almost-forgotten electric blanket from underneath the couch, dim the lights, quiet the television, and curl yourself into a ball. The headache is roaring now, an angry monster. You can’t believe you didn’t recognize it earlier, at Jenny’s first soccer practice. Maybe you just didn’t want to.

The good news is, this time it’s not as bad. It doesn’t seem to last as long, or be as awful. You tell yourself that no matter what the side effects are, to go back to the regular dosage immediately. You are NOT a doctor.

And now –

SOCCER.

It's the socks. They do it to me, too

She's so sporty! She gets that from neither her mother, nor her biological father.

Mostly she was just happy to run around, which is why I signed her up. Yay!

That kid in the pink and I are going to have a fight. She kept kicking her own ball onto the other side, then would take Jelly's instead of getting hers. She's also a whiner. I think she might generally just be an a-hole, her parents certainly seemed that way. She's going to get accidentally knocked down one of these evenings. Not that I would ever do that to a four-year old. Nope, not me.

One quick note. This is soccer skills. I am not one of those crazy people who puts their very young child in soccer where they are expected to compete in games where a coach screams at them to ‘Get their head in the game!’ and that kind of thing. Although I did totally screw up right out of the gate, because I didn’t realize they had mistaken Jellybean for a four-year old. Yes, a FOUR YEAR OLD. So they kind of had some high expectations for her at the first class. But she did great, and will have even MORE fun at this week’s class because, you know, she’ll actually do two-year old stuff.

Also, I believe this qualifies me as a soccer mom. Please send me bumper stickers, for I am officially true evil. Srsly, you should have seen some of those other parents. I'm not ready for that.

Raise Your Glass

The problem with a totally awesome event like the Choice Moms Workshop last Saturday is twofold. One, it was SO DAMN EXHAUSTING. Omg. So tired, still. And on so many levels. First, you meet all these totally awesome woman, so if you’re like me you are talking for basically 8 hours straight. And you have your kid there, so even though she’s with the fantastic Miss D for most of the time, you’re still popping over to the neighboring conference room to check on her and sneak Miss D Diet Cokes and brownies, and then drag the kid out to see the pretty dirty lake, and then go out with all the lovely ladies for a late dinner. And also, it’s emotionally exhausting, because at least 17 times during the event you burst into tears for VERY GOOD REASONS. Like, you meet very nice people who haven’t had their Jellybean yet and they start to cry, and they introduce themselves right after you introduced yourself all gloatily, and you realize you are a terrible, horrible, smug single mother, and that not all the people there are happy endings. Yet. And that makes you really, really sad, because there are some terrific people out there who should have a Jellybean, already, damnit. Just let them have one!

My happy ending. Effing adorable. Eating 114 lbs. of raisins while I'm in the workshop. A total rockstar celebrity, most people recognized her from the blog before they recognized me. Must post more pictures of me. In make up. Maybe get Glamor Shots done.

Two, you listen to a very nice speech from the very nice man from the California Cryobank. And he talks about how far banks have come, and the women talk about how reasonable the rates are, and you meet other absolutely adorable little donor babies, and the nice man gives you a free light-up sperm pen, and you meet another woman who has two kids on her own and you let yourself think – hmmm. Two. Light-up sperm pen! How can I argue with that! Seriously! If I moved to Canada, I’d get Canadian maternity benefits. I didn’t even THINK about that before Saturday. And that whole closer-to-my-parents-thing, right? Right?

Gah. It still doesn’t magically take 5 years off my almost-40. I don’t think 60 is a cool age to be fighting with a teenager, I think 60 is a cool age to be done paying for college and going on cruises. It’s interesting how people who have more than one are so hardcore about how important it is to have siblings; it’s just yet another parenting decision that can really split the camps. I would love to have a sibling for Jelly, but I don’t think she’s going to be a lesser person or worse off without one, and while I admire those who are able to do it, I shudder at the thought of feeding and bathing two small people without any help. Especially if Jenny is going to be three for a whole year. But oh, man, was it ever tempting to take one of those damn flyers.

See, I don't look almost-40, right? Ugh, I was tired already and it was barely 1p, who am I kidding.

So it was great to finally meet Mikki, one of the founding mothers of the Choice Moms movement and a terrific inspiration and resource for single-moms-to-be. There’s not a whole lot out there for us, or at least there wasn’t 10 years ago when I first started looking, and one of the reasons there are now Meetups and movies and reality TV shows (yes, there are several in the works, we’re told) is due to the work of tireless women like her, who travel around talking to women about what they can do in their lives and their communities, helping them find the strength and the resources to make their dreams come true. How many people can say they do THAT for a living?

Mikki is the one standing up. She's awesome. Go buy her book if you or anyone you know is considering the single mom path, or just to confuse people.

I have to admit, though, that as great as the workshop sessions were, my favorite part of the day was the dinner event, when over a dozen of us hauled our brood to a local eatery and blocked every safe exit with a variety of strollers and musical instruments (you don’t mess with single moms, we are very busy and very hungry). I am pretty sure that one of my dining companions hollered ‘live action sperm roll play’ or ‘orgasm’ pretty much every single time the waitstaff came near us – I adored her, and wanted to hang out with her forever. And the lovely English girl, raised by a single mum, now on the single mum path herself. And the woman across from me, watching country after country close as she tries to get paperwork completed to adopt…

Yes, Jellybean makes me insane. Yesterday, driving home from The Wal-Mart, where she made me buy $150 in flowers for the front yard that she then refused to help me plant, she asked what was for dinner. I told her we were making delicious Thai Drunken Noodles, which she loves. ‘What in dat?’ little precious asked. ‘Um, peppers and onions and noodles and chicken?’ I said cautiously, aware I was walking into a trap but unsure what it was. ‘Ohhhhhh I don’t like chicken! Too yucky!’ sobbed Jelly hysterically. ‘YOU ARE A CRAZY PERSON!’ I screeched back, totally unhinged instantly, ‘You LOVE chicken! You LOVE Drunken Noodles!’ She proceeded to cry. So I turned on the radio, which is my new thing when she has a tantrum in the car, because it just makes her more angry since she knows she’s being ignored. Of course they were playing ‘Raise Your Glass’, because my favorite radio station is apparently sponsored by Pink, so I cranked it and sang along very loudly and poorly while Jellybean screamed and bawled at the top of her lungs and I occasionally hollered in the direction of the backseat, ‘You are crazy!’ until she eventually said, ‘Ok, I stop cwyin’, mama’, very tearfully and somewhat angrily. And then asked for seconds at dinner. BECAUSE SHE IS CRAZY.

But I love her very, very much. And I tell her so every single day. And I am grateful for her every single day. And Saturday’s event was a nice reminder of that, you know, in case I was tempted to forget.

Crazy.

Happy Single Mother's Day to all you single mothers out there, no matter how you got that way. Happy Single Mother's Day to all you single ladies who are trying to be mothers, considering being mothers, or are on your way to becoming mothers.

Here, here.

Gone But Not Forgotten

We are still here. Just, ah, suffering.

Jelly kindly shared her ick with me. Then I took it to Boston, to corporate, to share it with others. Then I came back to an explosion of spring, which meant allergy season was upon us, and a whole new level of sinus pain and suffering. Also, I haven't yet found something that plays nicely with the Topamax, so I'm kind of all over the place with a variety of headaches and weird out-of-body experiences, which would ordinarily be kind of interesting, but with my current workload just has me kind of panicky and waking up at all sorts of hours from stress nightmares because I can't focus, and thinking makes me throw up. So. There's that.

But the good news is, Jenny had a check up from her tube surgery last fall, and she's doing great - the doctor said that she should come back in another four months, and they'd probably be out! Kind of crazy and short-lived for surgery (cough, expensive), but I guess the way The Bean grows that's just how it is. She's up to 44 lbs (yes, the size of your average 6-year old), and is almost as tall. People who thought I was out of my mind for buying 5/6 sizes for a 2-year old at the last consignment sale aren't laughing any more, and she's hitting yet another growth spurt. The first thing she asks every morning is what we're having for dinner. Gal is going to be tall! I'm amusing myself by considering signing her up for kiddie soccer to work out some of the energy - there's a 10-wk program starting in a few weeks extremely convenient to the house at a really good time. I think it would be hilarious.

I'll try to get my crap together to post some pics and get a decent post together soon - lots of stuff coming up. Big St. Patty's Day parade this weekend (our favorite one!), then the following weekend I'm pretty excited about a Choice Moms Workshop that will be held locally for the first time. I'm helping moderate, so should probably pull something together for that. I'll get to meet a longtime penpal and terrific author for the first time, plus some other moms like me, so it's pretty cool.

Hope everyone else is surviving the changing weather, or winter's last hurrah in some cases.