Elections, anxiety and me.

I'm getting a little tired of holding my breath, and I'm sure I'm not alone. This election has been long, drawn out and stressful. We're just days away from knowing who the next president is and while it seems obvious, I can't keep being worried. What can go wrong in these last few days? What states will surprise me, and leave us in the hands of the McCain/Palin machine, hell bent on plunging us into further wars, cutting vital government programs and reveling in their own love of ignorance?

I have a hard time understanding why some people still back the other side. I understand that hatred and fear are powerful motivators, but how is it that so many people are handing over their rights and best interests to a party so detached from the average American citizen.

I'm tired of the constant questioning of patriotism and comments about being "un-American". It stuns me that this is even in play. In my eyes, the only people who fall for these smears are those we are incapable of understanding the issues so they cling to the hatred and catch phrases that have become the bread and butter of the Republican party over the past 8 years.

I'm worried about the economy. I'm worried about the future of my children, about health care and the overall well being of my fellow citizens. It isn't fair for some to do so well while others are forced to scrape by. How is that un-American? How does that make me less of a patriot?

Aren't we all ready to move on? Aren't we ready to find positive change in our daily life? Aren't we ready for hope and possibility instead of fear and threats? I know I am. So here I sit, panicked, stressed and worried, waiting for election day to find out if my hope for America has a chance or if we're just holding on, clinging on with no hope, for the next 4 years.

Wordless Wednesday! Colorado.

You have questions? I have answers. Well, kind of.

Someone arrived at my blog after googling "Is a clothing optional household a good idea?" I'm no expert on this topic. Still, I think they were looking for answers. And being the kind and loving person I am, I'll take a stab at it.

From my perspective it all comes down to one thing, how much deep frying do you do? A lot, then not a good idea. Otherwise, hell, why not? Unless you're asking about my house.

Gotta recipe for that?

"How about I order Indian food for dinner?" I say in an attempt to get out of cooking before we leave for our trip to Colorado.
"Awwww, no!" pleads Big Dog, suddenly not a fan of the stuff.
"Ok, what do you want?"
But before he answers Big Dog stalks off, back upstairs to find his toys.
"I know, I know," says Little Dog.
"What do you want for dinner?"
"Hot Target!" he says with a self satisfied smile.
"Hot Target?" I ask, sure that I'm not getting this one right.
"HOT Target!" he says again, crossing his arms to emphasize his point.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means 'speak Spanish'" he replies, as though any sane person knows that.
"Oh, are you speaking Spanish?" I ask, still confused but trying to play along.
"No, I don't speak Spanish!" he explain to what he must think is the stupidest mom in the world.
"But you want Hot Target? Right?"
"Yes!" he nearly shouts, nodding with excitement.

And if I knew what it was, I'd be happy to comply. In the interim we'll be having Indian food.

Words that sound funny coming from Mr. Dog

For some reason when my big strong husband says certain words, I smirk. They just sound odd coming out of his mouth. For your amusement, and honestly for mine, here are the two words that have made me snicker inside when spoken by my lovely husband:

1. Smock
2. Gladiola

Ok, maybe I have a problem. But seriously, I giggle.

Am I a freak, or do you have certain words that are silly when voiced by your beloved? Please share.

Like English, only cuter Part II

Both boys take after me in at least one way. It can be pretty hard to get them to shut up. IN all of those words, there are some that frequently get mangled. I'm ok with that that. In fact, I love it. It can be hard for me to be motiviated to help improve pronunciaion when things are as cute at this:

Little Dog
bas-geet-ohs = mosquitos
bain-con = bacon
bampf-hire = vampire
toe food = tofu

Big Dog
fun-ola bar = granola bar
connector = nectar
sticker-noodles = snickerdoodles
light saver = lightsaber

See, I rather like the alternate pronunciaions. They're kind of charming.

Welcome home.

Mr. Dog and I were fortunate enough to spend the weekend with a bunch of good friends in Las Vegas. We ate out, drank too much (in some cases waaaaaay too much) and hung out by the pool. We lounged in the sun, read magazines, spoke freely with other grown ups and generally behaved as though we had no kids. Well, apart from the daily phone calls to check in and my nerves over leaving them for the entire weekend.

NE was kind enough to watch them so we could host Auntie Chihuahua's Hen Party. As it turns out, this was the same weekend as my dad's high school reunion, so the grands were not available. This was the first time I've ever left the kids overnight with anyone else. I was worried, I didn't have enough time to prepare the meals I'd thought I would prepare (in what spare time I'd expected to do this, I don't know). The house wasn't spotless (as though it ever is) and I had to pack some of my own clothes while they were still slightly damp because I am not a laundress. It all worked out.

The boys loved their weekend of floor beds, sleep overs, movies and indulgence. Every time I talked to them, they raved about how much fun they were having. It was like a kiddie version our our own Vegas experience. (NE even coached Little Dog into leaving a message on my cell phone reminding me "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas").

After two nights, we got our flight home. It was the last flight out to Seattle, and it was full. We finally got home close to midnight, got caught up with NE, the boys were sound asleep. She left and I started to change into my jammies. And then I heard it. The unmistakable gagging of a just about to puke Big Dog. I rushed into his room just in time to see him cover his bed, his hair and his pajamas with vomit.

My vacation was officially over. It was like "Hey mom and dad, welcome home. Here's what I had for dinner!" But smellier. Ahhh, motherhood.

Great Interview Experiment Part II

A couple of days ago, I posted my interview of unfinishedperson as half of my involvement in Neil Kramer's Great Interview Experiment. A couple of days later, I was interviewed by the lovely and talented Astrogirl426, from Notes from the Bunker. Since I know you are all clamoring to know more about me, here is that interview. You can also read it on her blog, or you could just stop over and let her know what a creative genius you think she is. She's damn funny.

You mention in your blog that you and your family moved from the San Francisco Bay area to Seattle in 2005. What is the best thing about moving to Seattle? (I won't ask the worst; we don't want to piss off the Seattleites!)
Hmmm, the best thing about moving to Seattle is that we are finally close enough to my family for them to visit regularly. (And for me to mooch babysitting from them occasionally.) That was the main factor behind the move. As far as the best thing about Seattle itself, I think the lifestyle up here is just so much more laid back. It bugged me at first. When we got up here, I'd run into a coffee shop to get my double non-fat latte (aka fuel) and instead of it being ready for my go-go-go lifestyle, I'd actually have to wait as the barista lovingly hand-crafted it, completely with a little design in the foam on top. I was used to the California version where they rush you out just as quickly as you rush in. Up here, it seems that coffee is a part of life, a moment to step away and take a break, not just a highly caffeinated beverage to help you keep on running. It extends beyond coffee too. This was just the easiest example of the difference in pace. Once I adjusted, I actually liked it slower. But man, it took some time to adjust.

And I'm bold, the worst thing about Seattle, the fucking cold cold cold dark winters. They suck. Yeah, I know, nothing compared to what you endure in Albany, but still, they suck for me, and I am the center of my little universe. I don't like being cold much.

You mention in your bio that you and your husband bought a fixer-upper when you moved. What is the biggest regret you have in remodeling your house?
Biggest regret: The fact that we are nowhere near being done. Since we're doing it ourselves, it is taking FOREVER. I jokingly refer to my house as the two story crackhouse on the corner because it looks so shabby and run down. Most of the work Mr. Dog has done so far isn't doing much to improve the outside of the house, we're still doing the foundation, so it is expensive, slow and really doesn't make our house any sexier. Just less likely to fall over and crush the neighbors.


What is the thing you're most thankful for in the remodeling experience? Would you do it again if you knew then what you know now?
I guess I'm most thankful for the opportunity to save this beautiful house. Yeah, I just called it a crackhouse, but it is a beautiful, historic crackhouse. Seriously, the local historical society did a history of our house at the local library. I walked in to see photos of our house complete with the history. I didn't even know they were doing it, so it was kind of cool. They wrote us a thank you note for not tearing it down, because that is happening a lot in this area of Seattle, to make room for condos. I'm happy to be living in this little piece of local history, and hope to restore as much historical detail as possible, though with the modern conveniences like indoor plumbing and a 6-burner range...


You mentioned in one of your postings that you were interviewing a babysitter, in the hopes that you and your husband could get a night out once in a while. What would you do it you had the choice to go anywhere with your husband, for one night, without the kids - and someone else (with deep pockets) was footing the bill?
It would have to be someplace local I guess since you're only giving me one night. I'd take one night in the Beatles suite at the Edgewater hotel. (this is the hotel where that photo of the Beatles fishing out of the window was taken, right on the water in Seattle.) I'd demand room service, in room massage and a good night of sleep. But mostly the sleep. That is something I am way too short on most times.


You mention a few of the places outside of the continental US that you have visited. Which is your absolute fave, and why? If your favorite place is somewhere you haven't been yet, where is it? Why do you want to go?
I loved most of the places I've been outside of the US. I'd probably say my favorite was Greece, I traveled there when I was in college just bumming around for a couple of months on my own. The people were amazingly friend and the food, oh man the food...awesome. I spent most of my time laying around on beaches or touring ruins. I got to read tons of books and just go at my own pace. It was like heaven. Though I could say Belize was my favorite too. We went there on our honeymoon. Went scuba diving almost every day, lounged around, went hiking in the rain forest, drank lots of drinks loaded up with rum, did lots of...honeymoon things. I'd go back there in a heartbeat.
I still want to make it to Turkey sometime, since that was our original, well second original honeymoon plan. My mom dad and sister have all been there now, and I wallow in my jealousy whenever they show me photos. I'd also like to go to Morocco, Madagascar, Argentina, Portugal...hell, the list is a mile long. Right now I'm shooting for Hawaii. I think it will be a while before the kids are ready for international travel. *big sigh*


You refer to the men in your family as Dog - Mr. Dog, Big Dog, Little Dog. Any funny stories behind that?
Nah, not really. My blogging name, Followthatdog, was my handle when I was posting on the Craigslist Parenting Forum. I started calling my husband Mr. Dog because Mr. Followthatdog was too long, and I hated the accepted abbreviation DH (darling husband). The kids got dubbed Big Dog and Little Dog by another poster after I complained that I couldn't come up with cute nicknames for them that worked. Once she suggested these, it was like being slapped in the face with the most obvious decision EVER, and they stuck. My own handle came about when I was still trying to get pregnant. I was a total dog person, love them, my life revolved around my pups. I had two dogs, one with the nasty habit of running off at the dog park. I felt like I was always chasing her, so "follow that dog", like "follow that cab" in the old movies, kind of made me smile. No funny story about the nicknames, but when I was pregnant with Big Dog I constantly had pregnancy dreams that I gave birth to a dog, and and had to convince people it was actually a baby.


You also have a food blog (From Mosh Pits to Mashed Potatoes). I must admit, for the stay-at-home mom of one small child who's in school all day, I still don't know where you get the time and energy to cook such delicious foods for your family. Have you always enjoyed being in the kitchen, or is this something you developed when you started a family?
I've always like cooking, and for me, it is kind of relaxing. Even before I had kids, before I was married, back in the dark ages, I used to host a "family dinner" every Sunday for our close group of friends. It was a nice way for us to all connect, and it got us all together at least once a week. My mom and dad both cook and my mom is an insanely great hostess, so I think it came from being raised in that environment. But maybe not, my older sister doesn't like cooking, so who really knows.


Your kids seem to be such adventurous eaters. My guy eats from a list of about 15 items (it sounds like a lot, but trust me, it isn't). Have your kids always been so adventurous, or was it something you developed in them? And if the latter, I will pay you any amount of money if you will tell me how you did it? :)
I am just really really lucky. My kids have both been wide open to trying new foods. They both like to eat and have very few things they don't like. It's kind of funny because when they were infants being introduced to their first foods, neither of them seemed to have much interest. We'd offer things that babies were supposed to like, and they'd gag or make ridiculous faces but they wouldn't eat much. Then we'd find their magic food, the one that they just gobbled up. For Big Dog it was roasted red peppers. For Little Dog it was avocados. Then things kind of opened up for them, well, not too quickly for Little Dog, there were a few weeks when we were going through 3 avocados a day, and nothing else. With subsequent foods, we just offer new things and let them try them. They aren't required to eat anything they don't like, and I encourage them to participate in picking foods at the store. We also like to bake together, which is fun, but also kind of a good tool for teaching. But again, I think I am mostly just lucky to have kids that eat well. Have I mentioned they don't sleep? Yeah.

Have you ever thought about writing a recipe book? :)
I would LOVE to write a cookbook. I've been trying to find a good one targeted at cooking real food for kids and haven't found one that fits all of my weird dietary quirks yet. The blog is my way of keeping track of what I've made, what worked, what flopped, what needed adjusting and sharing that with other parents.

One last question I've always loved asking a foodie (please forgive the macabre tone): If you could choose, what would you like your last meal to be?
Easy, a chili relleno burrito from La Corneta (aka the Corn), in Glen Park, not the Mission Street one, in San Francisco. That and a GIANT glass, hell a whole bottle of David Bruce Petite Syrah.

My own mammary Monet.

I am not well known for my coordination. If you have met me in person, you were probably impressed at just how anti-graceful my 6 foot frame can actually be. I say this to help you give you a bit of insight into my constant state of bruises and injury. Most recently, I fractured my boob. Ok, it probably isn't really fractured, as I did some internet diagnosing I found you can't technically fracture a boob, but it is really really really purple. And yellow, and kind of gray in spots.

Don't get too excited. I'm not going to post a photo or anything. If you want proof, you'll have to meet me in person, get me drunk enough to believe it is Mardi Gras and show me some shiny beads. The rest of you will just have to take my word for it. My right boob is currently an impressionist masterpiece.

"How does one fracture a boob?" you ask. As a new expert in this arena, let me fill you in.
For me, the adventure started while I was sitting, cross-legged on my comfy chair happily twittering away. My children were running rampant in the living room after Big Dog's birthday party left them full of energy and all sugared up. They were snacking on small cups of nuts and raisins. Little Dog, who probably needed a nap but was refusing to admit this, was being a bit of a grouch. He was disassembling the monster sized hot wheels track Big Dog was playing with and trying to put nuts into the motorized car shooty part instead of hot wheels cars. (Which doesn't work by the way. It just jams snacks into the inner parts of the highly technical orange plastic casing that cannot be opened.) After being told to stop more than once, Little Dog discovered that his snack, while tasty and reasonably healthy, also made good ammunition to chuck at your mother. One warning and I scooped him up to put him in a time out.

I had just stood up, carry the weight of my squirming toddler when I realized I couldn't feel my legs. All of that cross-legged sitting had apparently cut off the blood supply and I was now precariously balanced on two useless limbs. Did that stop me from trying to take a step? Hell no! And that was the final straw, my legs went out from under me, I fell to the floor dropping Little Dog and whacking my boob on a nearby chair on the way down. Yes, my boob. See, I told you I was special in my ability to injure myself in new and intersting ways.

Little Dog only dropped the last few inches, but was seriously shaken up. He kept telling me that "Mommy hurt me!" making it sound as though I had intentionally cast his little body to the ground. I tried to correct him, but my voice seemed to be knocked out of my body by the savage blow to my breast. He recovered pretty quickly, and was back to causing mischief.

I on the other hand have a vicious looking bruise on my now fractured boob. It looks like Andre the Giant (rest his soul) gave me a hickey. Or that Kung Fu Panda took a few practice chops. In other words it looks huge and brutal. And it hurts.

You may wonder why I chose to post about this injury. Well, the simple truth of the matter is that Mr. Dog is not being duly sympathetic. I mean, every evening, and most mornings, I try to show him the ever changing rainbow colors of my maimed mammary, and at best, at best, I get a grin or a grunt. I'm feeling the need for some love. Want to tell me about your most ridiculous injury? Thanks. I need to know I'm not in this alone.

Great Interview Experiment Part I

In January of this year one of my favorite bloggers, Neil Kramer over at Citizen of the Month, started The Great Interview Experiment. The idea was that one blogger would interview another blogger, publish the interview on their blog, and then the interviewer would be interviewed by another blogger kind of like a chain reaction of blogger interviews. Cool, no? When I first read about it, I thought it was for bloggers more serious about blogging than me, so I didn't sign up and I didn't think much more about it. A few weeks ago, Neil announced one of the interviewers had to back out, and he was looking for a replacement interviewer. In keeping with my personality flaw that forces me to overcommit, and always try to help out other people, I told him I'd jump in and do that interview. At some point, I'll be interviewed as well, and I'll let you know when and where that happens. So without further ado, here is my interview of Unfinishedperson.

General Bloggy Questions

1. You have five blogs covering various aspects of your life. Which blog did you start first, or did you begin with a plan to have a multi-blog approach? And what brought you to begin blogging in the first place?

The blog that I began first was Just A (Running) Fool on Oct. 27, 2005 to chronicle my journey toward reaching a marathon by the time I'm 40. I'll be 40 on June 9 next year, with my first marathon scheduled for June 6, God's Country Marathon. For more on all five blogs, visit unfinishedperson.com with feeds to all four other blogs on left sidebar.

I think it was my wife who brought me to blogging and also my sister, who both started blogs before I did. Both are still going strong.

2. How would you describe your level of commitment to your blogs? How often do you post and how much time do you spend working on each post? What is the criteria you use for adding a blog to your blog roll? How do your family and friends react to your blogs?

My level of commitment to my blogs, plural, is not always consistent, but on individual blogs is good, depending on the week. My strongest blog so far has been my book blog: Just A (Reading) Fool, with the readership growing there by leaps and bounds. I try to post once a day on at least one of blogs, if not more on all of the blogs. A couple of my family, such as my wife and sister, already are bloggers, but most everyone just rolls their eyes, especially my parents when I put up a post about them going off about talking ants and a big, honking lot of pasta salad.

Blogroll: on my main blog an unfinished person in an unfinished universe, I include the ones I consistently follow in my Google Reader, and anyone who asks to be included, who considers themselves an unfinished person in this unfinished universe. On my book blog,I don't have a blog roll, because there are too many good book bloggers out there so I've put them all the ones I've encountered (and am continuing to encounter) on a bookmark on del.icio.us. I provide the link to it on my sidebar. On Journeying with the Saints, I've included the few other "devotional" bloggers I've encountered in my journeys. On my humor or rambling blog, Unfinished Rambling(s), I have many of the bloggers whom I've discovered through Humor-Blogs.com on my blogroll. However, I'm working on making that a little more consistent and am considering doing something similar to what VE's Fantastical Nonsense does on his sidebar, although I haven't implemented it yet.

About the Great Interview Experiment

What was your motivation for participating in the Great Interview Experiment? Is there a specific goal you have as a result of participating?

I happened across Neil's blog and the experiment through a friend of mine on SparkPeople, and thought it looked like a great social experiment. So why not? No specific goal, other than connect to other bloggers like yourself.

About Unfinished Person

Your blog's name is taken from a quote by Dr. George Sheehan, "Each one of us is an unfinished person in an unfinished universe." What parts of you do you consider the most "unfinished"?

Um, all of them, body, mind and soul and as I say that part of us that doesn't fit as neatly into the body/mind/soul paradigm. I believe none of us will truly be finished until we are...uh...finished.

About just a (running) fool

Before announcing your intentions to run an marathon by the age of 40, what was your level of fitness and what kind of exercise did you do? Was this something you'd considered doing before, or was it a moment of inspiration? In your recent posts it it seems that your motivation for the marathon has greatly diminished but I didn't read any explanation. Any idea why?

Before: My level of fitness was nil. I hadn't run or done any consistent exercise since high school when I was a member of the cross country team (pictures here). I was a couch potato and worked in a sedentary job where I ate at McDonald's all the time. After ballooning up to 280 pounds (I'm 5-foot-6), I decided enough was enough and started with Weight Watchers. When that only got me so far, I took up running. I didn't want to be Mr. Potato Head anymore, and I'm not now.

I don't know why I've experienced the lack of motivation recently, but today after a long layoff, I finally got out for run. It was too beautiful of a day where I live in northcentral Pennsylvania not to run.

About Just A (Reading) Fool

You are a voracious reader judging by the list of books you have read and reviewed. I didn't notice any theme of content or genre, is there a specific criteria you use when selecting your reading material?

Short answer: Nope.

Longer answer: No, ma'am.

Slightly longer answer: Mostly I choose what I already own and those books which I haven't read yet. I occasionally am influenced by what others recommend on book blogs.

About Journeying with the Saints


Given the religious background you described in your conversion story, I found it interesting that you found your way to Catholicism. What was it about the Catholic church that appealed to you? Has your initial expectation of what conversion would mean held true?

With all of the scandals in the Catholic church, especially in the last couple of decades (not counting the Crusades, the myriad "bad" popes the Church has had), it may seem odd that anything about the Church appealed to me. However, what really drew me was the focus on Jesus, pure and simple, at least for me. Jesus is at the center of the faith, especially in the Eucharist, where we believe the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ. From that, everything else flows. The Church leadership and laity, of course, are sometimes, although not always, flawed-- as all are any of us who are humans. It's that we're still working toward being finished people, or being more finished than when we began. That's what matters.

I'm not sure what I expected from conversion, except for a growing knowledge of the holy in all of life-- and even though it sometimes is hard to see in a world full of war, poverty, etc., I think I'm more aware of it now-- even in the midst of all of that.

All that said, if you think I'm a completely serious person, then you need to check out the site for what I call the alter ego to unfinishedperson: unfinishedrambler @ unfinished rambling(s). You've got to laugh too at yourself (and at others, naturally).

Other

In more general life, because let's face it, I'm a mommy blogger not a psychologist, what is your best time saving tip? What three grocery items make you feel like your cupboards are well stocked? What phrase do you use too much either in speaking or writing?

Time saving tip? Hmmmm. Don't sweat the small stuff? No? It's all small stuff. I'm not very good on time management, to be honest. Even now, I'm pressed up against time, to finish this and then head off to a high school football game I have to cover for a newspaper.

Three grocery items: bread, milk, peanut butter. I mean, peanut butter, bread, milk. Bread and milk because live in the Northeast U.S. and when it snows, that's what you have to get from the store.

Hmmmm. What phrase? Probably...hmmmm. Or ummm. I also use "also" too much and parenthetical remarks (although not in these answers as much as I normally do, hmmm).

Are you happy? And what does "happy" mean to you?

Right now, no. Getting a headache, but that's just because I'm thinking about all the things I need to do before I head out the door.

Overall, though, yes.

To take completely out of context, from a Billy Joel song:

Things are okay with me these days
I got a good job, I got a good office
I got a new wife, got a new life
And the family is fine

Good job: Working at a bookstore, even if part-time. Good office: My home office with a window. New wife: Same "new" wife for last 12 years and only wife for me. New life: Every day.
Family: no children, but we got a cat Seamus, and that's enough for us.

Small world doesn't even begin to sum it up

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that someone was finding their way here by googling Craigslist NiceFo. It was making me nuts, and I asked that if the person was here, that they please, please, please leave a comment. You may have noticed that no one commented, and if you have stalker tendencies like I do, you may have wondered why no one commented. The reason is this, the googler emailed me directly.

Funny story actually. Turns out it was a former roommate of mine. We'd lost touch, she'd moved far away, I'd moved less far away. We hadn't spoken in years. Turns out some time back, she'd found my blog and has been enjoying it (yeah, that's kind of bragging, but heck, I was thrilled to hear she liked it!) She sent me a long chatty email explaining that she was reading the blog, came across the reference to the Craigslist NiceFo, didn't know what it was, googled it, got a couple of links and followed the one back to my blog. Simple. Logical and completely awesome. In no time we were emailing back and forth, we caught up and I hope we won't lose touch again. It is nice finding old friends in odd ways.

Anyhow, hearing that my long lost buddy had no idea what the Craigslist NiceFo was, and having now googled it for myself and also found no acceptable description, I'm going to provide one.

The Craigslist NiceFo was a forum on craigslist (if you don't know craigslist, I'm going to have to let you wiki that one on your own). It was never an "official" forum, but rather an offshoot from the Parenting Forum (PaFo). I'd been a long time regular poster on the PaFo and switched for a while to the NiceFo when it was formed because people on the PaFo had a nasty habit of being ridiculous bitches. A few of the most targeted posters asked Craig to allow them to make an unofficial forum in which you could only post if you posted under your registered handle (aka. going green since registered handles show up as green text). And so the NiceFo was born. For a while it worked, and then it quit working. Because people couldn't go "gray" (overwrite their registered handles to hide their identity, the overwritten handle shows up as gray text) to snark, they registered new handles to snark, or they'd just stalk you an neg every post you posted. And that's fine, but that's also when I went back to the regular PaFo.

Not long after going back, Mamikaze introduced me to Twitter. And like a heroin addict cleaning up on methadone, I switched addictions. I no longer spend much time on the PaFo, but I spend entirely too much time on Twitter.

A fantastic side effect of this is that this has actually validated my freaky addiction to knowing why people are coming here after googling random things. Great news for me, bad news for you. I'm probably going to get a lot more nosey. Google Analytics are a powerful thing for a nosey person like me. So if you have found my blog by googling "Wedding wagons," please enlighten me. What the hell is a wedding wagon?

Big Five, Big Dog! (Alternate title: Holy Shit, Already?)

Dear Big Dog,
Wow, you’re five. You’ve been on the plant for half a decade. I can’t believe how quickly how time has passed. Yes, it is a cliché, but it so completely applies. Hell, I swear I can still feel the back labor! At the same time I can’t believe you’ve only been in my life for the past 5 years, since your presence so fully integrated in my life, I don’t know how I’d see the world without you.

You’ve grown from a squirming newborn to a charming little boy, and I am constantly surprised by just how much you’ve changed. You’ve been more boy than baby for a while, but this past year has been a year of more subtle changes. Your vocabulary has continued to blossom, or should I say explode? You’ve acquired so many new words, phrases and are even able to apply the subtleties of intonation. It is as though you are a language sponge, (even for many of my most inappropriate expletives) and you seem to truly enjoy playing with words and meaning. I love watching this side of you develop.

At this tender age, you've already written your first book, (Toot the Train) complete with illustrations. Even more, you tell stories and sing great songs, all original, all slightly odd, all 100% Big Dog. I never know if the story is going to involve ghosts or raining pizzas, snakes or talking dogs, all I know is that I'll never hear anything like it anywhere else.

This year also marks your exploration into traditional comedy. Sure, some of your jokes don’t really make sense, but true comedy takes time, right? I love watching you play with paring incongruous concepts, finding the humor in a specific word, or probe the potential for laughs in an absurd situation. I can’t wait to see where this takes you, little man.

When we lost Mao, that was your real first hand experience with death. I’m not sure we did the right thing as parents by shielding you to an extent, but even as an adult I have such limited experience in this realm and I’m not really sure what I believe about what happens next. I think you got it, you knew he was gone, and that he had been very sick, but I wonder if you needed more from me. Maybe I was too cloaked in my own grief to really support you. I’m sorry for that. Even then, your efforts to comfort me when I was sad were truly moving.

You had other big transitions this year too, from your daycare/preschool to your new school. You shocked me with your readiness to embrace the new environment. I’d been protecting you from this transition, and it turns out you really thrived on the new challenges. Way to go!

Some things have not changed, you still love animals. I don’t think a day goes by that Nikita is not showered with kisses. Dashiell may be bigger than you know how to manage, but he gets his fair share of sweet words and probably more than his fair share of treats. More recently, you show such an adorable connection to Goldie, it is hard to believe she is just a fish in a tank. You talk to her and share with us her observations on the world. I love the way it shows your desire to connect with others, even those who don’t breathe air.

I’m sure you know it, because I say it often, but Big Dog, I am so proud of you. Not only are you handsome, smart and funny, you are a nice person. You are sympathetic to others and full of love. How could I ask for anything else?

Happy Birthday my big guy! I love you more than words could ever convey.

Proof I have a problem

Friday is Big Dog's birthday. I'm trying not to go overboard, but there is something about party planning that makes me go a bit nutty. One thing is clear, I like to aim for perfection. And if I'm completely honest, that aim has always been just a bit, ok a lot, out of my reach.

A normal birthday party for a five year old, should be a piece of cake. Ok, a full cake, a few games, a few kids, a few gifts, and maybe a balloon or two. And that's kind of what I'm doing. Except our house is still mid-remodel and there is little space for a party. And since Big Dog just recently changed schools, we have a bigger list of desired guests than our home can easily accommodate. And since our home is usually somewhere between disaster areas and one of those apartment you read about where there is so much stuff piled up over the years that the occupants have created narrow paths between the stacks of newspapers and piles of trash to travel between rooms. (ok, that might be a slight exaggeration) And since it is so nice to be able to have a party on someone else's turf and stick them with the clean up instead of having to clean to prepare for the party, host the party then spend the rest of the day cleaning up again, I decided to have a party somewhere else.

After close deliberating with Big Dog over what kind of party he'd like, we settled on a gymnastics party. They do a cool party package with a one hour class for the kids followed by one hour in a party room for the official sugaring up of the party guests. This gave me the freedom to invite many of Big Dog's friends and the ability to have a party with minimal cleaning required. All I have to do is get everything there, set up quickly and then sit back and enjoy. The only challenge to this was they needed a final headcount by Tuesday the week of the party, and I got the invites out late. I gave the parents a few days to reply then sent out a follow up email. We got a great response, but we also discovered that two of Big Dog's classmates are having their birthday parties that same day. Other than the birthday girls, it didn't seem to diminish our turnout much, but we still have a couple of unknowns who never RSVP'd.

Since I needed to get the supplies online, I had to start that part of things moving even before we had a headcount. So I had to start preparing. As you know, my early discussion with Big Dog resulted in being duped into starting a new and expensive hobby, so I was reluctant to do that again. Every time I asked him what theme he wanted, he'd come up with something new, and then he'd start planning birthday parties for next year and the year after that. (Next year we're having a racing theme, with cars. Lots of cars. The year after, it is a pool party. Or at least that's what he's saying now.) We finally settled on a Scooby Doo theme. This was after having settled on a fish theme, a frog theme, a butterfly theme, a frog theme, a car theme, a pirate theme, a fish theme, a dog theme...you get the idea.

I've been fairly well swamped at work, and I knew I had to do the bulk of the party supply purchasing on line. It actually worked out well. I had no idea how many sites there were prepped and ready to sell you all of the Scooby Doo supplies you could ever imagine. I got everything I needed, and now I am just sweating the arrival of the last box which is absolutely required to complete our goody bags. I'm sure it will arrive, but I'm equally sure I'll be stressed and twitchy by the time it does.

So let's talk about those goody bags. I like making goody bags, but I don't especially like getting them. I hate getting in the car after my child has been pumped full of cake, ice cream and juice only to find my child digging into the extra take home sugar rush of candy from the goody bag. For this reason, I never put candy in goody bags. Yeah, I'm one of those moms. This year, I am especially proud of our goody bags. They have a few cool items that were really inspired by Big Dog. We've got Wikki Stix, Floam, tiny flashlights, bubbles and Scooby Doo stickers. I'm psyched.

Finally we have the cake. My original plan was that I'd bake the organic, custom designed cake in my copious spare time. It would be decorated with the cast of Scooby Doo, hand sculpted from colored rolled fondant and resemble something that matched the image of the cake I have dreamed up in my delusional mind. Uh, yeah. That didn't happen. I got as far as buying the fondant and coloring, and printing photos of the "Gang" off the internet before reality set in. Let's face it, we have 23 kids coming to this party. This isn't some normal cake. It would have to be massive. We'd need to have cake for the kids and for the parents that decided to dig in. I'd have to trust my crappy oven to bake evenly AND I'd have to invest in new baking pans large enough to make this monstrous cake. Not to mention, I'd have to find time to do this at a time in my schedule that I can't seem to find time to unpack my suitcase from last week. So yesterday I caved and ordered a cake, complete with Scooby, Shaggy and Velma (Big Dog's favorite) from a local bakery.

So now I just have to finish up. Put together the goody bags, buy Big Dog a gift, pick up and deliver the cake, and I'm sure I'll come up with another long list of to dos. But as long as he's smiling at the end of it, it will all be worth it. I just hope I survive.

On the road again.

Travel always wears me out. It's bad enough when it is pleasure travel to return home at the end of your trip feeling like the world slapped you around a little, but it's far worse when it is business travel. Not only do I return home to a house of men returned to their natural state, I am exhausted, guilty and usually a bit stressed by my inability to be more than one place at once.

Last week I was away for the better part of four days. And though the reason I was traveling was good, and I got a lot done and all of the good cheerleader talk that goes with being a team player, it was brutal. For me and for my family.

Start with the trip to the airport. Our nanny was gracious enough to drop me off, and as I was getting out of the car and saying goodbye to Little Dog, he asked, "I come with you, mama?" I had to tell him, no, he was staying with NE and I would be back soon. His head sagged, he looked down, crestfallen and started to cry. In turn, I felt like I was abandoning this precious little person who only wanted to spend more time with me. In other words, I felt like the worst mom in the history of shitty moms. It sucked. I managed to cheer him up by bribing him with the promise of chocolate milk, but I entered the airport with his sad face on my mind. How's that for unchecked baggage?

Due to a recent tightening of travel budgets for our organization, I've been less able to fly down to California to see my team. This means when I do go down, I have a lot more commitments. I have to make up for all of the distance in the few short days I'm in town. It can be fun, but it usually means long days, short nights and a bit of stress trying to see everyone, touch base with my team and make enough time to fit everything in. Don't get me wrong, I love my team. They are fantastic. I work with some of the smartest, funniest, nicest people I've ever met. It is the non-stop schedule that kills me. My typical day in California runs long. I'm up by 6:00 am and I'm lucky if I'm in bed by 1 am. Some of it work, some of it social and some of it travel from place to place. By the end of the trip, I feel like I need a vacation just to get back to my normal state of mind. Bookend that schedule with the stress of a fear of flying (coupled this time with mechanical issues on the way there and back that left us sitting on the tarmac awaitng repairs) and you have the perfect recipe for a migraine.

When I get home from a trip, I have to go through all of the emotional highs and lows that follow a bout of mommy-abandonment. First the kids are so keyed up they are bouncing off the walls, then they get clingy, then they act surprised every time they see me. It can take days for them to really feel like I'm really back for good, and that breaks my heart. Today, when I was leaving to take Big Dog to preschool, Little Dog ran to get his shoes. "I come with you, mommy?" he asked, full of expectation. "No sweetie, you're staying home with NE," I explained, my stomach dropping, "but I'll be home tonight." And the tears started again.

It isn't that I want to be home all of the time, I just wish the departure and re-entry were less brutal. I feel like I end up coming home trying to be supermom just to repair any damage I may have done to the children, and superwife to try to re-ingratiate myself to my husband. See, I feel guilty leaving him to fend for himself with both kids too. I don't envy single parents. In fact I have no idea how they do it. It is like they have some kind of superpowers that I lack. In my world it takes two fully-engaged adults to wrangle the kids and keep our own sanity in tact. And even with both of us home, we usually end the day falling into bed utterly exhausted. In some small way I feel like despite the obvious challenges of business travel, leaving him with the kids is the poopy end of the stick. Add to this, Mr. Dog had just started a new job last week. More stress and pressure to be on time, be pulled together, be rested and ready to get up to speed. In other words, not the best time for your wife to disappear leaving you at the mercy of two tiny dictators who seem to thrive on a persistent lack of sleep.

We all survived it, but I have noticed we are all a bit frazzled since I returned. We're having more time outs, more "you need to listen to mommy and poppa" discussions and more general family friction. And my bags have yet to be unpacked. Did I say I need a vacation? I fly off to Vegas on Oct. 17th for Auntie Chihuahua's hen party. Then we have a family trip to Colorado the following week. Well, at least I'm already packed.

More reasons why Palin should just shut the F up.

Planting a seed.

My car is not a quiet place. Ever. Especially when the boys are strapped into their car seats. But the shrieking coming from Little Dog almost caused me to swerve into oncoming traffic!

"What's wrong?" I asked, frantic to figure out what had happened.
"There's a spiderweb!"
Wow, all that noise over a spiderweb, and he had now returned to calm child status.
"Where is the spiderweb?" expecting to hear that some misguided arachnid had built a home on the outside of the window.
"On my hip. It hurts. The web hurts!" he insisted, despite his I'm-yanking-mama's-chain tone of voice and sly smile.
"I don't think you have a spiderweb on your hip, I think you have an overactive imagination," I said calmly.
The shrieking resumed. Maybe something really was wrong. "What's wrong?" I asked again.
"I have an overactive imagination! It hurts!"
Sigh.

All dressed up...

"We're going to buy Halloween costumes. What do you want to be?" I asked Little Dog.
"I want a costume!" he replied with sincere enthusiasm.
"Great! What kind of costume?"
"Want a Halloween costume!" he clarified.
"Yes, but what kind of Halloween costume?" I asked hoping for more direction.
"French."
"French? You want to be French for Halloween?" I asked, thinking I'd misunderstood him.
"Yes!"
Uh, ok. I figured we'd work something out at the costume shop.

In the car, Big Dog tried to narrow in on what kind of costume Little Dog had in mind.
"You're going to have a Halloween costume, but what do you want to be?" he stressed.
"Jealous," Little Dog replied emphatically.
"No, what do you want to be for Halloween?" he asked again.
"Scared."

Big Dog was easier, he wanted to be a cowboy. I know how to shop for that.