BALTO! *UPDATE! EDITION

We are all sorts of a twitter around here. No good reason. Boyfriend is hanging Christmas lights on a tree in the front yard. I think this has something to do with it. . . also, it is snowing and Boyfriend got the day off on account of it being Veteran's Day and he works for the government at all. I'm halfway surprised he doesn't get the whole week off since we all know how much Sarah LURVES herself some military.

Right now I am thinking about how absurd it would be for me to call this a 'job'. No matter how much I would like to transform this little blog (god, I have always REALLY hated that word) into a paying gig, I currently find myself on a borrowed computer, sitting on a stool at my parents' kitchen table while my child and my father watch BALTO and I get ready to figure out once again what the hell to make everyone for dinner. (I'm feeling like the leftover lasagna and a Cesar salad...did I mention the SNOW?) At any rate, to say that I'm 'working' right at this moment seems a fairly ridiculous thing to claim.

Here is what I did today and got paid equally poorly for:

2:30am Wake up.

4:00am Wake up, finish argument with Boyfriend. More or less resolve argument. More or less.

5:00am Still awake. Make up with Boyfriend.

6:30am Daughter awake...everyone awake.

7:30am Get Daughter dressed for school, get Father ready to leave for work, get as much damn coffee down my throat as is humanly possibly while every fiber of my being begs to go back to bed.

8:00am Explain one last time to Boyfriend how to get to Father's office (via the espresso bar). Boyfriend does not understand exactly. Also does not loose my car so everyone arrives at coffee and office in tact.

8:15am Explain to Boyfriend how to get from Father's office to Daughter's Pre-School. Boyfriend does not understand exactly and raises his voice. I drive off. He does not get lost.

8:30am Drop Daughter at school. Am again amazed that The Glorious Pre-School Teacher is so together and calm and awake at 8:30am.

8:50am Arrive at Service Center. Deposit Father's truck for service (leaking wiper fluid, no functional horn, needs oil change).

9:something-10something am Eat breakfast downtown with Boyfriend. Realize that Father's credit card is missing. Fret and argue a bit about this. Run into my favorite congressional candidate of all time. Am so sad that he he is loosing and that it will take another month before anyone knows anything that I donate another fifty bucks to his campaign when I arrive home later in the day.

10:45am Talk to Father who has missing credit card (which is his in the first place). Drive back to Father's Office. Get card. Boyfriend is introduced all over office as "Our Daughter's Friend". Awesome.

11:00am get car washed. Go to Sears to find the little emergency key for the treadmill which has magically disappeared. Awesome, redux.

11:something Go to Barnes and Nobel with Boyfriend to track down some Joesph Campbell books that his son has requested for his birthday. Find BALTO on dvd for Daughter who has been begging for movie. Should probably be a better parent and save it for Christmas.

12:20pm Pick up Daughter from Pre-School. Immediately tell her that we purchased BALTO.*

12:45-1:30pm Shop at Costco with Daughter and Boyfriend. Try very hard to not kill Boyfriend for his entirely adorable if they were all alone in the store cart derby antics.

2:15pm Unloading groceries. Snow falling heavily.

2:45pm Pack everyone back into car to pick up Father from Doctor Appointment.

3:30-Present Watch/very slightly assist or attempt to assist Boyfriend as he hangs aforementioned Christmas lights. Am snapped at for being critical. Awesome to the fifth goodandgoddamned degree.

Snow continues to fall.

Tempers continue to flair.

Fuck yeah.

Leftovers it is!

On top of all of this I have to watch BALTO. So Awesome I can no longer contain myself and am going to pour a glass of wine. Its a holiday!
___
UPDATE!*
Because, I am sure you wanted this day to continue just as much as I did.

UPDATE!**
In which I caught the house on fire!

UPDATE!***
Just Ugh. Seriously. Ugh.

*
I did reheat the lasagna (which I spent three hours preparing last night. It is one of those primo lasagnas. Okay? We aren't talking Stouffer's, OKAY?)

Boyfriend hung all the Christmas lights on the big tree outside, in the snow. And they look lovely and he got cold. And the damn tree has GROWN and we need more lights.

That is all I have to say about that at the moment.

**
In addition to the lasagna, I made a salad. It was really good. Green leaf lettuce, leeks, yellow bell pepper, three roma tomatoes, goat cheese, and Newman's Own Light Italian Dressing.

Well, there was this leftover sourdough bread from original lasagna dinner last night. And I can't eat it, but I didn't want it to go to waste, so I did what I have done literally 200 damn times and made croutons. cubed it, tossed it with EVOO, a couple of spices, some parm, some salt and pepper. When I pulled the reheated lasagna out of the oven, I tossed the croutons in. I set it to Broil and went to toss the salad. Now, in the 200 damn times I have done this previously, in the time it takes the oven to heat from 425 to 500 the salad gets tossed, the lasagna gets cooled, and the croutons get toasted perfectly.

Today, when the buzzer went off and I turned around, well, the oven was ON FIRE. FIRE! FLAMES! And then I opened the door and it was like fucking BACKDRAFT or something. and then we all did that like three times or something before I hit the whole thing with the fire extinguisher. Which, I'm pretty sure, more or less ruined the oven. Sweet Christ! Also, the entire house filled with smoke and not a single smoke alarm in the house went off. Not one. Like a cloud of smoke in the house and NO ALARM. That is comforting.

So, I blasted the flames while Daughter was dancing around singing I Love Fire! I Love Fire! Boyfriend was going on about how it would die out. Father was just progressively more agitated.

Which leads directly to ...

***
Ugh. Just. Ugh. Is this damn day over yet?

You don't even want to know about Dinner. Or Post Dinner. I promise you. You don't want to know.

on feeling jinxy

So, tomorrow, there is something happening tomorrow...I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know there is like an event or a thing or OH! WAIT! The ELECTION!

As I have already noted (here) I voted a couple of weeks ago, so tomorrow is more about doing some volunteer stuff, hanging out with Daughter, and getting my hair done than actual work for the first time in a looooooooong time. Also, Boyfriend arrives late tomorrow night and we are staying in a hotel for the night downtown on the off chance that we decide to stay up ridiculously late and socialize with other hyped up political types until far to late in the evening/morning.

I've got to tell you, I don't really feel like it. I don't really want to go wave signs tomorrow morning (at 7am). I don't really want to go to the party and watch the first returns come in with my favorite congressional candidate of all time and his loyal supporters. I really don't want to go to Election Central and see everyone. I really, really, really don't feel up to heading over to the bar after Election Central to watch the rundown on the televisions there. I really don't feel up to it.

I do feel like getting my haircut.

I do feel like dropping off my kid, picking up some sushi, and curling up in that hotel room with a remote control and eventually a man I haven't seen in a month.

I don't feel like I have a place out and about tomorrow night. I don't feel like I've earned a spot at the party or a seat at the bar. I haven't actually DONE anything this time around. I put up some yard signs and staffed some tables and a couple of events last summer. I've consulted on a race for the past year in Sitka. I gave a lot of money I didn't really have available to a bunch of candidates, but I haven't been busting my ass to try and get anyone elected. I haven't been putting in the unbelievable amount of time that all these others have and I'm embarrassed. I don't want to have to talk to anyone.

I don't want to stumble over what it is I am DOING with myself these days.

The truth is, I'm not doing much and it is really hard to come up with an answer that doesn't make me sound like a total drop out from society.

I encounter this problem fairly routinely. At the grocery store, at the gym, at the coffee bar, at wherever it is I find myself where I run into someone I know/have known/went to school with/is friends or acquaintances or colleges of one of my parents... I'm really not doing anything. I'm living at my parents' house. I'm taking care of my kid. I'm serving as my parents' personal shopper, chauffeur, and caterer. I'm waiting around to see when and if my Boyfriend will arrive. I'm totally out of money. Totally. I'm freaking out about money. And about having to get a job. And about the time sacrifice that is going to mean to my Daughter. And about how much she really truly needs me around right now and more than that WANTS me around right now. And how even though she sleeps at her Dad's house three nights a week I'm with her everyday for at least a part of the day except every other Sunday. I sacrificed a lot of time with her for the first two years of her life. It wasn't exactly voluntary, but I made choices and those choices did not often allow for us to see each other everyday of the week. I don't think I could survive that again and I know it would be hard on her. I know that, at this point, any "Mom Time" that falls by the wayside because of a job is going to affect her and not for the better.

The guilt of knowing that something is going to have to change soon is overwhelming and paralytic.

There are some bright spots.

Boyfriend's job has been transferred up here for the rest of the year, so he will be here, living here after tomorrow. That was a major obstacle that I've been waiting out since last summer and I'm relieved that its over now. Of course, the next step is just as hard; now we all have to reintegrate back into the relationship and its been a couple of months and it is never easy. But, he came through. He stepped up and is relocating his life to be here with us (IN. MY. PARENTS. HOUSE. nonetheless...at least for the time being) and he even made it five days prior to my emotionally distraught deadline, so, there is hope.

We have tickets to travel at Christmas. Boyfriend, his Son, Daughter, and I.

The damn election is almost over and Sarah damn Palin might just loose and that would be such a sweet, sweet victory.

I get to go to Seattle at least once and maybe twice this month. That pleases me to no end.

Daughter will be here, with us, for all of next week as Her Dad is going to be away on a business trip.

These are all good things. These are all hope filled things.

Goddamn, I don't want to jinx anything, (Internet, you have no IDEA how TERRIFIED I am of jinxing this thing) but there is a really good chance we could elect Barack Obama President of the United States tomorrow. Tomorrow! I think that would be enough to carry me through for awhile. I need something to believe in, something to have a little faith in, something to point to and say Hot Damn! Everyone does not in fact suck. And so, I sit here typing with fingers crossed and vote cast. Trying to squelch my inner cynic. Trying to give myself until Wednesday to figure out what to do with my life.

It is snowing outside. Just a little. Maybe it will keep coming down and everything will look pretty again. Maybe come Wednesday the world will actually be a little bit prettier of a place.

file this under things that will break your heart and make you cry uncle

When Daughter and I returned to Stripmallville from where we had been living she jumped headfirst into an entirely new family. Her Dad and his Girlfriend have two little boys. Her son is going to be two this weekend and they had a baby together in September about a week before we arrived.

On the whole, Daughter has been handling the whole thing like a superstar. No big fits. No big DRAMA! No open resentment towards her Baby Brother or her Little Brother. The two toddlers have had a little give and take and adjustments to living together in a house that she used to share solely with her father.

She has had two tell tale signs of early big sisterhood though. Number one, she has almost completely stopped using the potty. Even at my house. Which is annoying to me since we spent SO. MUCH. TIME. THIS. SUMMER. Doing the whole potty training thing.

Number two is the bottle. She wants to have a bottle all the time instead of sippy cups or big cups. We still have a bottle laying around that has, for months and months, been reserved for EMERGENCY COMFORT PURPOSES ONLY.

Today, she was bargaining for the bottle. Promising to use the potty for the rest of the day if she could have her soy milk in a bottle. And she's tired. And I'm a pretty easy pushover. And, so, I agreed.

And after I handed her the bottle she tucked it under her arm and lifted her arm up to me and said "Up Mommy. Pick me up." Which I did and then she instructed me "Now we sit in Papa's rocker. Now I get MY snuggle time just like Baby Brother." And she nuzzled in like a nursing baby and laid there in my lap while I rocked us back and forth for three straight bottles.

And my heart swelled and broke for her.

But I enjoyed the snuggle.

hi ho, hi ho

Yesterday I went to work. In an actual office. With actual make up on my face at 7:45 in the morning and then I sat in front of a computer that was on a desk (rather than my lap) and wore my glasses and didn't read any (ok, many) blogs. I even managed, somewhat magically, to stay out of the constantly popping up political conversations about that governor who bought a house's worth of clothes on someone else's dime.

No, I didn't get a job.

Ha!

Its funny that you thought that.

I have been applying for jobs, but nothing has stuck yet.

I was at my dad's office. Hammering out his expense report that he has failed to get done since February when they changed the system.

It was kind of nice to be around adults all day. No one asked me to help them go potty or cut their food for them and at no point did I have to get down on my hands and knees and pick up blocks. And to top it all off, I got to wear my cute shoes.

I could deal with a little office time. I'd like a part time gig. Like in the mornings when Daughter is at pre-school. In my fantasy life you can get a job where you get to dress like a grown up and only work M-W from 8am-Noon.

I'm sure that job will be falling in my lap any day now. Any. Day. Now.


But for now its back to Clifford and blocks and yoga pants.

Daughter is with her Dad this weekend and I will be finishing up the report for my father.
Perhaps I will even get to socialize with people my own age. Like go to dinner, with a friend. How novel. I've also got to seriously figure out how to make her Halloween costume. I'm thinking Velcro and super glue. Damn, I wish I was crafty.

Also, I went and signed up for NaBloPoMo. So I need to figure out what I'm going to write about for 30 days straigt. Or go find a bunch of memes that I can use as filler. . .

A little bit brutal, a little bit rock and roll

Today was a little bit brutal, a little bit rock and roll.

Daughter had a really rough handover at Dad's House. Half and hour of clingy "I want Mommy-ness" that ended in a tear and holler fest. Which left me, in tears, in the car. Because there wasn't really anything I could do to make it better. And I don't live there. And I had to leave. And she wasn't going to stop crying as long as I was there. And I desperately didn't want her dad and I to start snapping at each other. And I it all just felt like shit.

With a side of FAIL.

We were a little bit early (ten minutes I think) and Daughter had fallen asleep in the car. She woke up when we arrived, but was in good spirits until we got into the entry way where she tossed her jacket on the floor and refused to remove her arms from around my neck while starting to whimper. I did not want to leave her dad's girlfriend with two kids of her own, dinner in the works, and my kid freaking out, so I offered to stay until she was comfortable. Her dad didn't get home until almost 5:30. I was there for about 25 minutes. It was ok. We mom chatted a little. The little boy is adorable. The baby is HUGE, in the most gorgeous 6 week old, fifteen pound baby sort of a way.

(I want to go on record as saying how lovely it was to spend 20 minutes watching her "mother" today. She's a pro and so calm and confident and able to seamlessly break away in all the ways that I struggle with. I just wanted to say, we can talk "Mom" and she is a genuinely fabulous mother. If ever comes the day when they are reading this most random of random websites. I wanted to say that. In all of its pith and anonymity.)

It feels a lot like a no win situation for me over there. Its just weird. I know my eyes catch on stuff that used to belong to me or remembering the painting or the toy that I bought that is sitting outside with a 12pack of beer on the porch or how hot it is. Maybe its just my personal discomfort.

Anyway Daughter, who I thought would be thrilled as usual to see her dad and get over the clingy weapiness in pieces when I passed her off to Dad. She was crying and hollering and just in despair. And it was awful. And painful. And she was still totally loosing her shit when I passed her off to Dad. And she was still totally loosing her shit when I put on my shoes and said goodbye to her most adorable, nearly two year old brother, and she was still loosing her shit her shit when on the porch and the other side of the door I felt the tears well up in my eye.

I drove around the corner before really loosing my own personal shit because my car was parked where she could see it from her bedroom window.

I spent five hours with Daughter today and we had a blast. We danced and did art and played blocks and decided that she would dress up as a Bella Kitty* for Halloween.

She is at the most adorable point where she can hear a song once and know all the words. She danced (DANCED!) her heart out to all the Enchanted songs while picking up her blocks and tool truck toys from the living room floor.

Good god. I just love her so much and am so devastated by her genuine wanting tonight. I spent five hours with Daughter today and have spent six hours writing this post.

And I'm just so sorry.

I'm just so profoundly sorry that she has to juggle two houses and Mom Day and Dad Days and School Days and Girlfriend and Boyfriend and brothers and everything all in one life.

And, Daughter, I'm just so sorry. Its not so bad really. There are all of these people who love you so much, but I'm sorry that the simple story, the easy choice, wasn't a feasible option. Its not worse, the choices that we made. It wouldn't be better to go through a divorce now, or five years from now. It was the right choice. It was the right choice. It was. And most days everyone is happy. And everyone loves you. I love you more than you will ever, ever know. And I am so deeply sorry for all of your tears. I am so very cut to the core. You, my perfect, darling baby are my one true thing and someday you will realize that your mother has truly failed you in a whole lot of ways and I will never, ever forgive myself for any single one of them, but I do honestly believe that you will thrive in your life and goddamn, I'm not going anywhere. I won't break that promise.

Oh, Winter. . .

I am not ready for real winter to be here. I realize that I have mentioned this before. It seems that we are really in for it this year.

Daughter and I had a good time with the new saucer sled in the backyard yesterday. She was better decked out in winter wear than I was and would have stayed out a lot longer if she had been given the option.

I swear, I really am trying to make the best of it. Seriously. I am. I had a very in depth discussion last night (by discussion, I mean gchat) with a friend of mine who is a serious skier (here, which I did not know is not in Vermont) and got some good tips on getting skis and who to talk to at REI to get cheep stuff that will work for my beginner self. I already have boots. That's a step in a direction if I do say so myself.

It isn't as though I haven't done winter before. I've lived in Alaska for 17 years. (Whoa.) Winter keeps coming back around every six months or so. Its the way it works. I understand this. I'm not surprised by it.

I just do not enjoy it very much.

And this year it is much, much earlier than it has been in quite sometime. Which means that we are in for a long haul and I am trying to make peace with that. I am trying. I am trying. I am trying.

I think that, in addition to the winter being early there are a lot (A LOT!) of loose ends and much uncertainty floating around in my life at the moment which is making me crabby and anxious. What is that, Internet, you would like an accounting of the things that are making me buggy. Well, if you insist:

1. I am living at my parents' house for starters. I'm not just 'staying' here. I'm LIVING here. Which I swore (SWORE) I would not ever do ever again. It looks like Daughter and I will be here well into 2009. I am daunted by this prospect. I am disheartened by this prospect. I am really tired of my parents having a great deal of power over my life and being oh so generous with their opinions. Yes, I sound like an ungrateful ass. Noted.

2. In addition to living at my parents' house, I am driving my dad's car. Which means I am doing a lot of chauffeuring and asking permission to go places.

3. Boyfriend is still living where we used to live, instead of here. He has to get a job here before he can move. The apartment where we lived is in a building that has been sold and the new owners are moving into his place on November 1st. Which means that he will still be there, but doesn't have a place to stay. Its all very up in the air and stress inducing and frustrating and really frightening. I'm really concerned about the level of stress that we are operating under, long distance, indefinitely. Its not good. We have spent a tremendous amount of time apart since we got together. We were seeing each other for about 3 months before I left town. Then apart for three months. Then I was staying with him, but out of town a LOT for four months. Then my dad got sick and I was here for three months. Then we moved into the apartment together in May and Daughter and I moved back here the first week of September. I would say we have spent as much time apart in our relationship as we have spent together. And that sucks. And I'm really, really tired of it. And really, really ready to settle into a life together. And I have a really, really short fuse when it comes to a lot of these things and that is not at all helpful.

4. It is campaign season. This generally increases my mental stress load tenfold. Of course this happened. So I would say my blood pressure is right up there with Dick Cheny's these days.

5. I don't have a job and I need to get one and getting one means that I am going to have to sacrifice time with Daughter and that breaks my heart into 47 pieces (I've counted them) and I just don't know what to do.

6. I am not sleeping well.

7. It is possible that I have a lingering medical condition that I am choosing to ignore which is based in part due to my lack of medical insurance and in part because I don't want to deal with it.

8. There is six inches of snow on the ground. I mean, seriously.

I think that eight is enough, don't you?

Toddler Hilariousness, Vol. 1

Hilarious things Daughter has said in the past 24 Hours:

Me: "Where should we take Papa for lunch today?"
Daughter: "Mom, let's take him to the sushi (suuuue-she) place. Do you like sushi, Papa?"
Papa: "Uhhh, no."
Daughter: "Oh, but Papa! You are BIG!" You should like sushi! It is very Sophisticated. I do not like sashimi (sash-eeeemeee) now, but I will when I am BIG!"*

--
After pouring her hot chocolate:
Me: "Here you go. May I have some of your hot chocolate, too?"
Daughter: "Just be patient dear. Mommy, you are a dear."

After spilling her hot chocolate from her teeny tiny tea cup onto the counter and then being caught finger painting:

Daughter: "Whoops-e-daisy!"
Me: "It's not a whoops-e-daisy if you pour it on purpose."
Daughter: "Oh, you're right, its interpretive dance."**

*She considers "getting sushi" to include a bowl of miso soup, a cup of rice with 'spicy (soy) sauce' and maybe a bite of fried bit from a roll.

**We are BIG into LILLY BOOKS around here.

59:59

Well, I'll be damned.

I ran a full hour yesterday. Voluntarily and everything. I am bursting with pride in myself. Sorry, but I totally am. I didn't know that I could do that. I totally kicked ass.

I out ran the stopwatch function on my running watch, which only goes to 59:59.

I went running on Saturday on the trails behind my high school do do a little hill work and got lost. I wound up running for 55 minutes, rather than my usual 40 and I felt pretty good at the end of it, so I decided that I would shoot for upping the ante to 60 minutes for my Monday, Pre-preschool pick up run.
(Reader's Note: I was not a runner in high school. I used to hang out on the side of the old gym at the head of this trail system and smoke cigarettes in the dark before school, so I know where the START, but not where the GO exactly.)

My weekday runs here are almost all exclusively on this trail. It is pretty and not super hard. It is fairly well populated, so I am not nervous about running alone, but it is not overcrowded when I run as pick up is 12:30. I mostly get to run there because of its proximity to pre-school. I can get back in the car and be at the front door in anywhere between 30 seconds and 5 minutes depending on where I am parked along the trail.

In preparation for the NEW! LONG! RUN! I decided to treat myself to an updated iPod play list and new earphones. The ones that I bought last summer have been royally sucking lately and requiring significant mid stride readjustments to keep them in place. To much hassle. I settled on these and they ROCKED.

Running is just about the only time I get to rock out to loud music anymore and I cherish that about the time. I'm a little afraid that I can be seen mouthing the words to The Boss by most everyone I pass by, but I can't really be bothered with those types of details.

Anyway, I parked perfectly and added exactly ten minutes to my outbound time. Which meant that I hit the 30 minute mark at my turn around point rather than 20.

I am pretty slow and have become a fairly steady runner. Thirty minutes out means 30 minutes back. I was concentrating on going slow too, so as not to burn out before I hit my goal. Anyway, long story short and with much help from Bruce and the Badlands (repeated three times between minutes 42 and 52) I totally hit my time and I overshot just a bit at the end. I also had the pleasure of passing a bunch of people including no fewer than six other runners (well, three and a group of three) and seeing two sets of walkers twice. The new headphones were a smash success and although I should have had the sense to wear gloves when it was still frosty out at 11:20 when I set out, I did not get too cold.

I have no real idea of how far I went, but I would figure it at about 8 minute miles which would make for a 7.5 mile run.

I had an actual appetite for the first time in a long time.

I feel better today after the much longer run than I usually feel after the 40 minute runs. Perhaps I was going slower? Or I got into a better stride over the longer distance? I don't really know what the deal is. Feels good though. Strong.

I want to be able to run 10 miles by my birthday (Dec. 14th. . . you can send me a Wii or an iPhone if you insist...or a house...or a new car...you know, its the little things that count.) And I want to run a half marathon while we are on vacation in March in SoCal. (Yes, yes, I KNOW about the Disney Princess Half. No, no, I will NOT be doing that one.)

Anyway, it is not often that I am bursting with personal pride. So I relished this one a little.
---
In Other News:

I was hauled out to a fundraiser this morning at seven am. Seriously, seven am. No, I don't know why I agreed to go. Yes, it was sort of nice to see some of those people. Also, I got a lead on a job that I would possibly enjoy very much.
-
Daughter is still sick and did not go to pre-school today. She is still surviving on a diet primarily composed of popcicles, 'taco chips' (READ: Half a hard taco shell. We were out of tortilla chips.) , storybooks, and The Lion King.
-
Also! Boyfriend has meetings in town Thursday and Friday so he is flying up tomorrow and staying until Sunday night. Sweet!

Happy Tuesday!

Cough, Cough, Gag, Barf., Repeat . . . Otherwise known as Good Morning, Mom!

You know that scene from Jurassic Park where the girl gets sneezed on by the sick dinosaur and gets covered in slime?

That is more or less how my day started.

Daughter is sick.

Her step-brother at Dad's house was sick last week. We thought she had skirted the bug, but that appears to have been an optimistic assessment.

She's been sort of sniffily for a couple days. Then came coughing. Then the barfing started this morning. When I picked her up out of bed. Which means that she puked all over me. It was less than glorious.

She is now camped out on the couch with her soft blanket, soft pillow, special bear, cup of ice water, and second video of the day.

Poor thing.

Although she is particularly snuggly. Which you won't catch me complaining about.

I do, however, need more coffee. So if that could magically appear in my hand right now, that would be super. Thanks.

**UPDATE**
As of 12:55pm, with five fruit juice popcicles, some baby asprin, and gummy bear vitamens in her stomach, Daughter is walking under her own power. Also, sliding on her indoor slide. Thill, twaking dike dith, though.

***UPDATE, Redux***
Daughter continued to improve. Her Dad got out of his meeting early and came over to pick her up. Early. She was worn out, but is looking forward to spending tomorrow with his parents. I hate the hand off. It gets harder, not easier. Espicially when she is sick and small. I have no real responsibilities until Monday at 12:30 when I pick her up from pre-school. I mean, I've already done the laundry and everything.

My Very Own Mcdream Come True...

Last Thursday, after I picked her up from a coffee bar at 8am, Daughter and I went on a road trip. We rocked out to some B-I-N-G-O and a lot of Bruce Springsteen. We ate salad bar and "Neemeneeems*" (!!!) in the car.

We were staying at a lodge in Homer, where my dad had been all week for work. We wound up having the whole beautiful seaside place to ourselves.

We went to the deep water dock and Daughter got a tour of "Papa's Tug Bot", including the buckets of freshly baked cookies in the galley. She decided she needed one for herself and 'Oh! Wait! My Paaaaapa needs a cookie too..."

We had a "fancy dinner" at the "special" restaurant and we sat at a table in the (gasp. hide. shame.) bar, because it was empty, smoke-free, and the tables are elevated which is exponentially easier for my father.

Daughter ran around in the beautiful yard overlooking the ocean for the better part of an hour after we got back to the lodge. She cawed at the ravens that were perched on the roof next door. She flapped her arms and flew around the yard CawCawCAAAAAWing away. She chased off a sea gull. She wanted to go down to the beach, but we put it off until the morning.

We had a bath in the huge tub, red books, curled up in the huge! great! bed! and come eight o'clock she was still wide awake. Huh. Didn't see that one coming. Damn.

She wanted to watch a movie. No movies. She wanted to jump up and down. NO jumping. She wanted to run around exploring the house up and down the stairs, over and over and over again. NO Exploring.

I on the other hand wanted to watch the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy. Like basically everyone else in the world, I have a thing for medical shows. The fake ones, not the Discovery Channel variety. I'm pretty out of touch with ER, but I'm a loyal Grey's fan. I actually watch it on tv on a regular basis, which is saying a lot for me. I've been watching Grey's since before EVERYONE was watching. Since the winter of 2005 when it appeared out of nowhere to make me want to move to Seattle. I was working on an ill-fated campaign that kicked my ass for months on end. I was swimming with a Master's team at 5:30 in the morning on Monday/Wednesday/Friday and it was an 8pm show. My ex-husband was in grad school and pretty consumed upstairs.

I watched it when it premiered for the full season the next fall. When I was pregnant and we were moving and staying at my parents' house while we remodeled the new place and I frantically finished college before the baby was born. And I watched it through the winter while I was home with a new baby. And I watched it the next fall in random places with cable when I was separated and miserable and having my ass kicked daily by life and a awful campaign. Then that winter I would go to the gym and run while it was on and listen on headphones. Last fall I watched on boyfriend's computer on Saturdays because I was in school when it was on in real time. I watch. I'm a fan. Its a train wreck and I like that too.

So. What the hell? She'll probably get bored and fall asleep. She won't be to scared by blood and the guts. I can just turn it on, she won't even pay attention.

But she did. She demanded to snuggle on the other side of the bed, closer to the television so she could see better. "Look! Mommy! Those are his brains and his guts!" She stayed up for an hour and a half. And spent most of the drive home the next day operating on her bears and dinosaurs in the backseat.

There have been a thousand moments (or days and weeks and months) in the past three and a half years when watching Grey's Anatomy in a the most comfortable bed ever curled up with my daughter and her two favorite bears seemed like an impossible fantasy. I am well aware of how ridiculous a thing it is to say, but if I could have frozen that moment in time and just relived it every day from here until forever, I would. It was one of the most hard won and cherished memories I will ever have. So, thank you Meredeth and Derek. Thank you, Christina and stapled ass army guy. Thank you, Bernadette Peters and Kathy Baker. I'll never forget it.

Listmaking? Check. Productivity? Not so much.

I am dumbfounded to realize that August is almost over, my credit card bill is due, and I will be moving (AGAIN) in a week and a half.

Today I have to do laundry and write the packing list and I really should start to actually put things in actual boxes and Rubbermaid tubs.

Instead, Daughter and I are eating lunch (grilled cheese sandwich for her, tomato soup for both of us) on a picnic blanket on the floor and watching Finding Nemo. She is running in place on the BoSu and doing her signature flying leaps into the bean bag chair. We both have a mild case of the sniffles and I am due to wave yard signs for my favorite congressional candidate bright and early in the sheeting rain tomorrow.

I am excelling in chewing my nails down to nubs and drinking coffee until I have the jitters. Also, blog reading, online job searching, and conducting scary conversations in my head...playing both roles, natch.

There is not enough room on my C Drive to download the new episode of Mad Men. I do not know how to remedy this exactly. Something wants to clean something, but I'm pretty confident that I would loose stuff I want to keep. I seem to be just that sort of useless. I might have to risk it though...I really want to watch the Mad Men.

Ok. Packing list. . . focus. . . here I come.

Good taste starts early

There are two (non-disney) people that Daughter can identify when they flash onto the tv screen.

"Daughter, who is that?"



Answer: "Barack O-Mahma!"


And while watching the Olympics every night this week she picked up on this one...




"Hey Guys, there's My Phelps! He's at the Gulyimpics! He swims in The Wah-ter CUUUBE."

6am! Oh, how you mock me. . .

We were up early in our house after a late night, go figure. 6 am should not exist on Sundays. New rule. Agreed?

Daughter and I had a fantastic dinner date with our friends F&L and their baby, The Godfather. We ate some awesome, awesome food and watched some Olympics. I could insert my rant about beach volleyball and their quote-un-quote uniforms (cough, cough...brought to you by Victoria's Secret...ahem), but I'm going to let it go. I guess. I get a little to emotionally involved with the swimming for my taste, but its only once every four years. No big thing.

Boyfriend didn't make it to dinner. He came down with something yesterday afternoon. Something nasty. He is still down for the count. Damn tourists and their noroviruses. Yuck.

No big plans for the rest of our weekend. I think we will make and appearance at the pool in a couple of hours. If boyfriend is up for it, I want to go for a run in an hour or so pre-swim.

-----

Daughter is very into her dresses now. She calls them her BEAUTY Dresses (ala Beauty and the Beast). We are spending a lot of time in twirly dresses this week.

I broke down and bought her a baby stroller. Which she L-O-V-E-S with the fire of a thousand suns. It goes everywhere she goes. We walk with it downtown. She takes it to the bathroom. She spins it round and round the apartment. She fills it with her bear or her baby or her stuffed kittens and goes for "adventures". She takes them 'running'. It is a very versatile stroller. Can't figure why that one that cost five bucks is so much more functional than the four frazillion dollars that I have spent on child transport devices that are not nearly so awesome. C'est la vie.

I have this post brewing in my mind about how I'm souring on how my feminism has affected my open mindedness when it comes to raising a girl. Haven't quite worked it all out just yet though.

Damn, we have just had a good summer. Despite the craptastic weather.

We are having very long and drawn out conversations now. Lots of questions. Lots of 'I want Maaaaaaamy!" Which is just about the greatest thing I've ever heard in my life. It seems like I waited an awfully long time to hear it.

-----

Also, I hate my hair. I have an emergency appointment Tuesday evening to deal with it, but I don't know what I want him to do. Just over it. All the swimming/coloring/growing out has rendered my super think/super fine hair a ratty, snarly, mess that I never do anything with other than pull up in a ponytail or bun or something. Its gross. It looks pretty good if I fill it with product and straighten it out, but that is an hour long process at this point and has happened a grand total of once in the past month and a half. I'm pretty useless when it comes to my hair. I loose upkeep motivation far too quickly.

'Nuf Said

Hold On
by Sarah McLachlan

Hold on
Hold on to yourself
for this is gonna hurt like hell.

Hold on
Hold on to yourself.
You know that only time can tell

what is it in me that refuses to believe
this isn't easier than the real thing.

My love
you know that you're my best friend.
You know that I'd do anything for you
and my love
let nothing come between us
my love for you is strong and true.

Am I in heaven here or
am I...
At the crossroads I am standing.

So now you're sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
that you'll be strong tomorrow
and will see another day
and we will praise it
and love the light that brings a smile
across your face.

Oh god
if you're out there won't you hear me.
I know we're never talked before

and oh god
the man I love is leaving
won't you take him when he comes to your door.

Am I in heaven here or
am I in hell
at the crossroads I am standing.

So now you're sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
that you'll be strong tomorrow
and we will see another day
and we will praise it
and love the light that brings a smile
across your face

Hold on
hold on to yourself
for this is gonna hurt like hell.

Things I Never Thought I'd Want to Hear

Daughter(from bathroom...yeah, you see where this is going): "Mommy!"

Moi: "Yes, baby?"

Daughter: "Come look at my POOOOOPS! They are in the potty! (In a sing-song voice) I put poops in the potty! I put poops in the potty!"

Moi: "Rock on Babaloo! Bump."

Daughter: "Bump, mama."

Then there was some silly white girl fist-to-fist action and a dance fest in the living room to some Paul Simon.

We love ourselves some Paul Simon. That is how we roll here.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Daughter swam (voluntarily) solo today at the pool today. Granted, it was mostly in an effort to avoid having to leave the pool and take a shower, but there is that and it was FABULOUS.