It's a rare chance that I have a mostly free and uninterrupted afternoon before me. What to do? What to do? I decided to spend part of it uploading the KittyCat's pictures and finally getting around to sending prints of them to the Families back East. (Didn't that sound ominous? What is she, some sort of mafia princess?) Well, her godfather does do a pretty good impression.

As I type this she's wiggling around making some sort of strange grunting sound due to the remnants of her cold. It seems that her big plastic keys are just too tasty to chew on one at a time. These days she more or less is able to amuse herself for stretches of time when I can get online and check up on my groups- and Dooce. I spend *way* too much time reading Dooce. She's like, a role model for me or something from time to time as my depression and insomnia go to war with my anxiety. Why does this always seem to happen at 2am? Don't they realize that I have better things to do with my time? Like, say, sleep?

oops, KittyCat is determined to chew on my foot again. Or the mousepad. Let this be a lesson to potential parents everywhere: small mammels all go through a phase of chewing on things. Doesn't matter what species they are, they'll figure out a way to acquire and attack it. And if they can't put it in their mouth they'll either attach to it in a sucker-fish method or bash their small heads on it. Computer equipment is particularly yummy to them. Optical wireless mice are practically irresistable. It's a good thing we gave that away before she started crawling and reaching...

Finally back on the internet. Yay me! Was going nutty for a bit; our service had network problems since Sunday night- I woke up Monday without the 'Net, and had no access until this morning. 4 whole days. It's a miracle I didn't cut my hair or something.

KittyCat is still working on her breathing. The trachea-thing caused her congestion to land us in the doctor's office again Monday afternoon, at which point the respiratory therapist (Mr. Bob) was able to *finally* give us something other than "clear fluids and tylenol". So now she has her very own aero-chamber mask, which makes it possible for us to give an inhaler medication to a 10month old. She's actually 10 months old this week. Pretty girl. We're still doing really well medically speaking. I count us lucky that she's escaped so many preemie concerns. If all we have at this point is a coloboma, GER, and trachea-whatsis- I say that's not so bad. We could have been coming home with an O2 tank, or an apnea monitor, or something. She could have been given a diagnosis of ROP.

In the meantime the crafting proceeds. I've been forcing myself to spend an hour a night with my knitting, because the current project is both a beautifully cuddly fiber to work with as well as a soothing color. It's periwinkle, cotton, and has a soft sheen to the surface that makes the light fall into it. When it's done I'm putting it up on my Etsy.com website, so make sure to keep checking over there in case something strikes your fancy. While I'm knitting I'm not neglecting the preemie blanket project though. This morning I delivered about 20 blankies to Ms. Maria, who was thrilled to see them because they're having a new bumper crop of babies come through. And that means that somewhere in this city there's a whole bunch of new mothers and fathers on that roller-coaster... my heart goes out to them. May they all have their empty arms filled soon and with as few complications as possible.

So tell me, what exactly is love? Is it the fluttery feelings I used to get when I crushed on someone, or is it the small stillness I have come to expect whenever I think of my Boy and how proud he gets of me. You know that stillness. It's the soft glow of the candle flame burning where my soul lives, deep inside. It's the place that says to me "yes, this is hard. Nobody said it was ever going to be easy to partner a man, especially a man who's worthy of you." These days we can open that up a bit and include all types of partners- gay or straight. But I'll just speak to what I know...

I'm keeping his house while he's away, and trying to include him in all the little minute things of the day. I have to remember that he's the head of the house, even if I'm the Queen Regant for the month. Or year. Or whenever he comes back to take his place again at my board and in my bed. It takes a certain amount of inner strength, and a good deal of that comes directly from the way one perceives themselves. So I'm carefully choosing how I will perceive myself during this deployment. Today I'm one of those crusader queens. I've sent my man off into the world to do good works, to find our fortunes and to secure a place for us in the afterlife. I don't know just when he'll be back, or if he'll ever be back. I have to live as though he were still a part of our lives. Raise our children so that they love their father and remember him.

This is so much easier in the age of internet and digital photography. I may be nuts, but this is how we learn to get through times like this.

teeny-tiny diapers.

Oodles of years ago when I was a girl, the toy companies started coming out with these realistic looking and feeling dollies. They felt like a newborn, had the right weight and skin texture/resistance, etc. Some home ec classes even used them for the 'practice' babies.

My baby, when I birthed her last year, didn't look anything like those realistic babies. She was a squiggly little limp Holly Hobby doll... She looked like a wrinkled spider monkey and it was several months before she wasn't considered 'floppy'. Most newborns are floppy and that's why one needs to be so careful with their necks and heads. Preemies take that floppiness to a whole new level.

When she's sick she's still my little preemie, all floppy and listless. No more wires, thank Diety, but I still creep in and check her breathing as though she were. When she falls into that deep sleep that only the very exhausted and the very young can achieve, and I have to carry her off to bed, she's floppy again. It's just that this time she's got some weight to her. Like a sack of potatoes instead of a piece of overcooked spaghetti.

One of these days I still want another baby doll to hold in my arms and rock. It's likely that will mean another roller coaster through the NICU, and teeny tiny diapers, and lots and lots of sleepless nights and hormonal depression. But it's so worth it. I wouldn't give up my Kitty for anything in the world.

I'm entering a whole new world now, and it's something that I dread almost as much as I look forward to embracing it. How to keep the balance going forward in a calm fashion. What do I want? What is going to be the best decisions for my family?
Goals for the next week: Finish downloading and burning some movies for my Boy. Send the past two months worth of baby pictures out to the families. I took an ambien two hours ago and the soft folding of wool around my brain has begun. I can still function, but I have to make an extra effort to shut out the extra 'noise' around me. As promised, when Kitty needs me, I have no problem focusing solely on her and her needs. When I sit here watching tv and writing my vision blurs and the old familiar fuzziness wraps me up like a blanket. This is what I asked for. I must not let it get out of hand as previously.

While walking through the grocery store earlier, I was mildly irritated by the people who frequent it on a Saturday afternoon. I don't know why I was so amazed. It's not like there was anything unusual about it, other than that I was able to park the car within 500 ft of the store's entrance. Of course there were only 5 checkout lanes open, and they all were crowded, and I felt the urge to hold Kitty out at arms-length. "Watch out everybody! I've got a baby, and she could go off at any moment!"

Her congestion is easing up a bit tonight. Which is good, cause she's still exhausted from being sick all week. I'm praying that the next week goes well, and that I can send my mother home to Pennsylvania before the Kitty and I are supposed to fly east on our Grand Tour.

It's 8 PM. I've taken my pills, my mother and daughter are both sound asleep in bed. They're tired, and I'm tired too. I just can't seem to settle down to sleep just yet, so I'm sitting up and surfing the Net. I'll watch some tv and let my nerves settle a bit.

Good Night, Moon...

While walking through the grocery store earlier, I was mildly irritated by the people who frequent it on a Saturday afternoon. I don't know why I was so amazed. It's not like there was anything unusual about it, other than that I was able to park the car within 500 ft of the store's entrance. Of course there were only 5 checkout lanes open, and they all were crowded, and I felt the urge to hold Kitty out at arms-length. "Watch out everybody! I've got a baby, and she could go off at any moment!"

Her congestion is easing up a bit tonight. Which is good, cause she's still exhausted from being sick all week. I'm praying that the next week goes well, and that I can send my mother home to Pennsylvania before the Kitty and I are supposed to fly east on our Grand Tour.

It's 8 PM. I've taken my pills, my mother and daughter are both sound asleep in bed. They're tired, and I'm tired too. I just can't seem to settle down to sleep just yet, so I'm sitting up and surfing the Net. I'll watch some tv and let my nerves settle a bit.

Good Night, Moon...

Another day and I seem to be as messed up as I used to be. My medication is being adjusted, but not as dramatically as I feared. This is good. I even have a little something to help me sleep. Kitty is all raspy, when she coughs she wheezes for breath. Now we know that this is from the collapsible trachea. I'm not going to fret about that. Right now both my mothers are here, and I got sent to bed for a full night's sleep. Same thing is supposed to happen today.

What am I going to do with a day off? Feeling a bit better, all on my own. I could play online. I could spend it doing the fancy handwork that I miss (Seriously complicated needlework). I could be a world-famous supermodel magician. Mommy is taking a sick day. Whoo-effing-hoo.

Alright. I've dropped the Boy pierside, I came home, and calmed the crying Kitty. Then I went and threw up. A piece of rice came out my nose, and I feel better now.

The bronchoscopy today turned out very well. Her trachea has a soft spot on one side, and that's what's causing the problems. When she asks more of her breathing, it collapses in, and makes it harder for her to breathe. This should end by the time she gets to preschool. Her stomach upsets continue, though, with puking, icky watery/mucusy stools, and other miscellaneous sick stuff that comes out of babies.

I got as flaky as I normally get when he leaves for long periods of time. But it took me less to cope this time. I feel a bit silly that I showed all of this to my mother-in-law, but she's not judging me because of it. She and I agreed that we wished we could behave like the Kitty- she weeps and wails and threw a fit tonight because she was too tired and cranky and sick. We're too old to do that, even if it would make us feel better about waving the Boy off.

This won't be for too long, in the grand scheme of things. We know that the boat has a shelf-life, it can't be extended indefinately, and that he will come home again before we know it. Even still... I'm a navy widow again for a half-year. A merry widow? Or one of those women that walk along the shores looking out to sea waiting for the waves to carry news of her love back to her?

Well, I think the worst of the sickness has passed. I spent Friday/Saturday/Sunday sick, the KittyCat was equally sick Saturday/Sunday, and my mother-in-law arrived via an emergency plane ticket last night. When she got here she sent me and the Boy to bed, and we slept hard for the rest of the night. His last night with me. He held me, and we slept, and early this morning I dropped him off pierside.

At least I've got two more chances to say goodbye before it's for the rest of this half-year.

We're still not completely over this bug, but we're much better.

Rolling with the punches is one of the hardest lessons to learn in the military. When your spouse sends you an email saying, "what do you think of this new opportunity", it's important to roll with it.

I don't take sudden news well. Never have. Since I married my husband I've learned to swallow that initial ACK and look for the bright side. This is often annoying, but vital to my sanity. No one ever said that it would be easy. The exact opposite, actually. Every military spouse I've talked to agrees: it sucks. The life is full of more uncertainty and separations than most jobs. No reliable hours. Frequent separations to the farthest corners of the earth. Although it's not heavily emphasized in the recruitment ads there's a better than average chance of getting killed.

For all that, it's still a rewarding life. There is a roof over our heads and medically speaking we're fully covered. When I've truly needed my husband here, I've had him. Without having to worry that he'd lose his job because of my difficult pregnancy, emergency birth, and serious post partum depression...

In a few short days he will leave. It will not be the end of me, although my heart will break and there will be times that I weep for the loneliness. I will continue to love him and keep his house. Tend to our child. When he returns, he will find us waiting for him.

I might be overextending again.

Had several long meltdowns over the weekend and the early part of this week. Today I'm grounding myself, but just for the morning. Munchkin is doing fine today. Her breathing is the same. We rescheduled the upper GI study, and next week she's going into the PICU -pediatric intensive care unit- for a bronchoscopy under sedation. This will look at her lungs and find out why she's having so much trouble breathing with activity. The specialist suspects that she has a soft spot in her airways- this is actually quite normal for preemies who were on ventilation. It will not lead to major problems; I just want to know why my child struggles for breath when she plays.

Her fevers are coming down and slowing. She's eating again.

I'm not having nightmares anymore.

When did this world go so wrong? At what point did we all hate each other, and when did community disappear? I'm feeling a bit disillusioned today watching the morning news.
Mama goes home today. My mama, that is. I get to stay here in paradise with my KittyCat and my Boy, who is home with me and All Mine for two more days.
I woke up this morning with a bold new idea. I'm going to try to track down die-cut purple fabric hearts, and make some of the preemie double weight receiving blankets with the Preemie Purple Heart on them. It'll be great. With luck it won't cost so much, either. This service project keeps bringing new life and purpose to my days. The time passes more quickly and I'm not feeling so aimless as I make my way through the long days of Stay-At-Home-Mothering. The news from Monday, from the Pulmonologist, has given me nightmares all week. For all that we've been incredibly lucky so far, I feel as though the other shoe has finally dropped and that re-hospitalization is inevitable before her first birthday. I don't know whether or not that's what I'm even dreading right now. It's been a long trip, and mostly smooth despite the ups and downs.

KittyCat has started a course of steroids as of this morning, and she's scheduled for an upper GI immediately, and may be sent for an airway test under sedation in another week or so. She's also developed an alarming heart murmur in the past month. That's the good news....

My Boy and I are going away for a few days. This was previously arranged and I've decided that it will be good for us not to fret- meaning, of course, that I need to stop obsessing over all this until later. Like, say, when the actual results are seen by the specialists in charge of the case.

I feel like the other shoe is about to drop on my head. Suddenly, and when my mother is on her way out of town. It's going to break loose when my Boy deploys, for sure. I'm a preemie mom. I survived the NICU. I survived coming home from the NICU. I can take whatever comes my way with a firm attitude and cope; after all, I'm a navy wife and I can handle anything. It's what my family needs from me right now. When it's all over, in the privacy of the night and in the comfort of my own bed when my family's asleep- that's when I'll cry. Not today.

Serenity. Now.

Last night I kept crawling back under the blankets and pulling them over my head. What don't I want to see, to deal with? KittyCat was well-behaved and went to bed early. My family was happy and content watching shows on the tv that I like, and yet I wanted to lay in bed and stare blankly into my pillow.

Deep down, I'm already detaching from them. Deep down, I'm already preparing for the separations. My mother goes home on Friday. My husband leaves my side in 16 or so days. Not that I'm counting, mind you. Pretty soon it's just going to be me again, against the world and caring for my baby girl. I know that I can handle it, a part of me is looking forward to being the great big supermommy again. The rest of me, that frightened little part that wants to cling to my husband and whisper "don't go", the same part that wants to burrow deep into my mommy's armpit and whimper, that part still needs a bit of consolation. That's what I'm going to do over the next few days. Console that little girl.

We just won't think about what will happen to us in one more pay period's time. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof, or something like that. Take care, my friends. Hug your loved ones and know how blessed you are if they are coming home to sleep beside you tonight.

Domestic tranquility has struck once again. My Boy is home. Where he belongs. KittyCat's curled up on his lap right now, cuddling. I'm sitting at the computer thinking about all the fun stuff to do over the next week with them home, and I'm thinking seriously about tucking up under the blankies in a bit with some cold medicine and nap. Especially since I was awake way too early this morning.
Dinner tonight is brewing and bubbling away in the crockpot. Paprika Chicken and rice and carrots. I need to go back out and get some sour cream, but that will come later. The important thing is that it's under control and I don't have to think about any of it until much, much later. Lovely.

We have one edge of a front tooth! It's poking out gingerly from the gum right now, and I am so proud of her! It seems like such a little thing, people, until it's your own child who's throwing fevers and having that miserable little whimper, burrowing their hot heads against your chin. It adds a whole new dimension to motherhood that I never dreamed of even a year ago.

To switch topics to something totally different, I've been thinking about gender roles lately. When did men stop being Men, and women stop being Women? Really. I'm not advocating a return to the olden days of prejudice/sexist thinking where one gender is the chattel of another, but I'm coming to think that when we had the Sex Wars and Feminist Revolution a lot of the good stuff got thrown out with the bad. For one example, a lot of men and women that I've known spent a lot of time in their young adulthood trying to figure out where they belonged -as they were learning who they were, what the rules of society currently dictated for that role, and how they were going to incorporate all of that with what they had been raised to believe. Our own parents suffered from this; mothers teaching their girls to reach for the stars and letting their sons play with girlie things. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm concerned about the opposite being true- that girls don't get to play with dolls enough and dream of being homemakers. Boys don't get to grow up with the assumptions of one day having a family and supporting them, being the Man of the House. We have learned a mishmash of the way things should be now and the way things were in our grandparents' time. I know that I struggled for a couple of years with the thought that my true dream in life was to be a good wife and mother, a frugal and thrify housekeeper, in the ways of my foremothers... There's no career in that. There's very little glory and a lot of criticism in that, these days. The choice to have me stay home involves a lot of careful planning and budgeting, and we've agreed that this will mean that we're going to pass up a lot of expensive things. We're also not going to live on revolving credit cards. As much as my husband complains from time to time about always being broke, we're not in debt, and we're living in one of the most expensive economies in the country on one income (his) and with a child. There *is* a certain status in that which we can be proud of. I'm a lot less emotionally fragile than I used to be, believe it or not. I know where I am now is where I truly want to be. My husband can feel a real pride in being the sole breadwinner, knowing that he is providing for his family. There may be a lot of things he can't provide- he never went to college, he never learned to drive, and he is in an occupation that makes him leave us for a lot of the year. All those things are nothing compared to knowing that he is providing the roof over our heads, the food on our table, and that he's living up to the role that (for good or ill) he found instilled in his own subconscious mind as a boy.

The past couple of days have been a big blur to me. I know that stuff has happened. There's a new heat/ac unit in my wall. There's a more or less clean kitchen, and formula keeps getting mixed up to Her Ladyship's exacting requirements, and medicine gets poured down her throat. She's even getting better about swallowing the tylenol when I give it to her. So that's good. I think she's finally made a connection between that taste and feeling better.
Cherry koolaid will never be safe in this house again.
This is not just because I, myself, am fond of it. Or that I bought buffalo chicken strips at the store this afternoon just to provide emotional support through the next 24 hours of teething. Her Ladyship sleeps now, and has for the past hour and a half, and I'm cautiously beginning to relax. I wish I could talk to my Boy tonight. I don't even have the faintest clue as to what I'd say, but I just want to have the option of talking to him.

I've been having odd dreams again. Vivid, strange, dreams that involve the 'true-selves' of people that I know, and some people I don't know. It's hard to interpret them just at the moment, cause I'm still dragged out from the night spent coaxing my baby back to sleep and through her discomfort from the teeth trying to come through. I don't know when, but it's got to be soon.

With luck I can get a nap this morning and try to go back to some of those dreams and sort out what is going on. I hope that all is well with them; it's selfish of me that I don't want to get involved deeply in a dream-healing right now. I feel so drained. Maybe that's the point.

It still looks as though KittyCat's going to sprout all her teeth at one shot. The ridges are there, we can see individual teeth through her gums and those gums are stretched as tight as can be over the teeth. She's in awful pain from it, and fussy, and when the motrin takes the pain away she's all smiles and giggles and sweetness'n'light. The cutest thing I've ever seen or ever hope to see.

I'm also getting better at getting her down for bed. She's asleep now; rocked to sleep with L&O Criminal Intent and a smattering of the Antiques Roadshow. But PBS was starting to overstimulate her, so I had to switch back to the cops and crimes... who knew? Who could have possibly predicted that she is equally fascinated and lulled to sleep by criminal dramas? It couldn't have been all the times I fell asleep to these things while pregnant, right?

Another day in Paradise.

My little girl and I ran out to do some errands on our own this afternoon, and had a lot of fun. Diaper Genie refills are on sale at Target this week, so I stocked up. I bought some more receiving blankets to cut down for pump kit bags- and if anyone knows preemie moms, let me know if they think it would be a good thought to offer a few up on my ETSY.com site. The theory behind this is that it's hard enough to want to pump, and schlep the tubing and horns back and forth from the NICU all the time, but if you've got a nice flannel bag to carry it all in then not everybody knows that you're doing it. Plus, when you get done pumping and discover that you forgot something to wipe up the drips with, the bag can be used to help out. It's also machine washable...

The weather today is glorious. I heard a brief short one-liner message from my Boy this morning when I woke up that really made my day. Even though I've still got the weepies at odd times, it's not so bad right now. I know that he loves us. I know that eventually he'll be home with us again and all will be well.

Tonight's dinner is going to be deviled meat-loaf patties and butter-simmered carrots. I've been drooling over the prospects of this for a couple of days now, and can't wait for tonight. Is it dinner time yet?

Thank you also to everybody who has sent me Virtual Hugs in the past days. I feel better for them. It's nice to hear that somebody else can 'hear' me, and that I still have a voice.

How do we cope with deployments and the long absences of our partners? There's as many ways through it as there are people. Some find that they need to keep busy with every waking moment, exhausting themselves so that they don't have to think about the loneliness. Others find the opposite is true. Some people pack up and move back home with their parents, in a sort of 'reverse' childhood. Others stay on in the marital home, piling the empty side of their bed with all sorts of stuff so that in the middle of the night when they wake up there's still a comforting weight on the covers...

It's okay to grieve the separation. It's okay to cry, and to sob and beat your hands against the pillows. That's part of what makes us human. The anniversaries that we spend alone. The birthdays we spend apart, and holidays, and all the other times when everybody else we know is celebrating with their family- those days we spend with a Partner-Shaped hole in our lives. We can't replace them, and we can't pretend that they don't exist. We've just got to do it without the luxury of having that person in the room.

I don't know that there's a universal solution to this. Every couple has to manage it on their own. I know that my Boy and I send emails back and forth, as often as we can manage, and we always take a moment to acknowledge these days. Even if he's so busy that all he can do is a two-sentence message. Even if all I can do is send a paragraph into cyberspace that has become one-way due to internet restrictions and Operational Security measures. I haven't heard from my Boy in several days now. It is a physical pain, a tightness in my chest to endure. I just have to suck it up and get through it.

Serenity Now. Breathe. That's all I can do.

Yesterday we went out to Balboa, as per the original plan. I'm happy to say that I made it through three whole exhibits before my stamina gave out and we had to head for home. That one of those three places was a gift shop is totally besides the point.

KittyCat has been getting lots of exercise today. She's been happily rolling around on the floor and inchworming herself around corners and into several odd places. It's fun to watch. As for her Mommy, well- I'm on the lookout for Mother's Little Helpers. Next week I'm seeing somebody to further this search, and hopefully he'll be able to give me something that will help. It's taken me several months to reach this point, and it feels like I'm failing to ask for chemical assistance. But it will help me be a better Mommy. That's the end goal, and how I get there is no longer that important to me.

If you own beautiful things, is there a point to saving them 'for Best'? That's the theory. Save it for a special Occassion, and use the plain stuff for everyday. Only trouble is, there are times when you may never see a Special Occassion for months on end. The Good Stuff gets left up in a cupboard collecting dust and when those special times do come around you may not even remember that they're there.

This morning I pulled out the good china. Painted in wildflowers with a gold rim. It wasn't new when we got it; handed down from a friend who was replacing her Everyday China... this lady (she's a Lady, if ever there was one) doesn't even have plain old everday dishes. She had everyday China. Anyway, I ate my breakfast off a dainty salad plate, and am drinking my tea out of a teacup and saucer. I didn't make anything special, just a hunk of bread and butter, and some herbal tea. But it does taste better, and I feel special this morning even though it's just another Monday. Later on I'm going to paint my toenails, even though no one will ever see them beneath my thick white socks and sensible shoes. The person I usually paint them for isn't here now. I'll still know that they're there, and I also got out a little travel bottle of scented shower gel to put in by the bathroom sink to wash my hands with. Soap is soap. My hands smell fruity and I feel perfectly decadent doing this. It's transformed my attitude from a boring Monday into something else. I am treating myself as though I'm as special as my guests. It's different, it's unusual for me, and I feel slightly naughty for doing it.

I also feel sweet and feminine and like a Lady. Not a bad way to start the week. Not a bad way to feel, either. It makes me feel like anything else that will happen today is survivable and livable. Nothing will be awful after a start like this.

If you own beautiful things, is there a point to saving them 'for Best'? That's the theory. Save it for a special Occassion, and use the plain stuff for everyday. Only trouble is, there are times when you may never see a Special Occassion for months on end. The Good Stuff gets left up in a cupboard collecting dust and when those special times do come around you may not even remember that they're there.

This morning I pulled out the good china. Painted in wildflowers with a gold rim. It wasn't new when we got it; handed down from a friend who was replacing her Everyday China... this lady (she's a Lady, if ever there was one) doesn't even have plain old everday dishes. She had everyday China. Anyway, I ate my breakfast off a dainty salad plate, and am drinking my tea out of a teacup and saucer. I didn't make anything special, just a hunk of bread and butter, and some herbal tea. But it does taste better, and I feel special this morning even though it's just another Monday. Later on I'm going to paint my toenails, even though no one will ever see them beneath my thick white socks and sensible shoes. The person I usually paint them for isn't here now. I'll still know that they're there, and I also got out a little travel bottle of scented shower gel to put in by the bathroom sink to wash my hands with. Soap is soap. My hands smell fruity and I feel perfectly decadent doing this. It's transformed my attitude from a boring Monday into something else. I am treating myself as though I'm as special as my guests. It's different, it's unusual for me, and I feel slightly naughty for doing it.

I also feel sweet and feminine and like a Lady. Not a bad way to start the week. Not a bad way to feel, either. It makes me feel like anything else that will happen today is survivable and livable. Nothing will be awful after a start like this.

I'm not feeling so profound today. Maybe it's the restless night I spent, tossing and turning. Maybe it's the early wakeup call from KittyCat, who giggled and wiggled her way all around the crib before the sun was up.

We're going to early church this morning. Then I'm coming home and resting the remainder of the day. Bake some more bread- thanks for the compliment, Tam! I'm glad you like my bread. Don't forget to come back next week and grab some more to take home for your Boy! And remember- since it's seriously lacking in preservatives and chemical additives, it does tend to go Green rather quickly. The flip side to this, of course, is that it's better for you than a lot of other foods...

It's baking day once again; the smell of bread is filling my house and making me feel oddly relaxed. It takes me back to childhood serenity and a time of no worries. Mama's here, knitting on the sofa. I'm here, sitting by the window. The KittyCat is napping in her crib. All is well in Paradise this morning. But...

That's the real problem, isn't it? This afternoon I'm not going to get a call from my Sailor to pick him up at the pier. Tonight we're not going to order a pizza and sit together watching DVDs. He's not going to drink a 6pack of beer and get silly and tell me how much he loves The Mary. Tonight I'm going to comb out my hair and crawl between cold blankets and sleep alone again. I'm used to it. Many times I even look forward to it. This afternoon it's making me a bit morose.

Three Doors Down: Away from the Sun; "Dangerous Games"

And what do I care to get me through these sleepless nights
And what do I have to hold when no one’s there to hold me tight
And what do I see the only thing that gets me through this is

I feel and I feel you


He's still here. For one more night before the last underway before the Long One. He's sleeping. In a few minutes I'm going to go in and lay down next to him and lay awake all night, listening to him breathe. I love him. That's the only thing that matters. I breathe through my pain tonight, and in all the days to come. I'm going to wake up tomorrow and hold our baby, and she's going to laugh with joy to see the sun. She doesn't know that my heart breaks.

Getting ready for deployments is hard, on both sides of the pier. I can only imagine what goes on past the quarterdeck. To be honest, I don't want to imagine it. I know what goes on here and that's enough for me. There's paperwork to get in order: ID cards, Power of attorney, financial arrangements- how much spending money to transfer on a regular basis to the Boy's accounts, and that way he can leave the joint accounts alone except for emergencies. This is especially important to us when the world separates us. This way his spending in a liberty port does not adversely affect my management of the household by accident. There's the unspoken current running through everything I say to him. Sometimes I can feel that current running both ways underneath our words.

Don't forget me.
I love you.
Don't leave me.

The last is spoken only in my tears when he is gone. I know better than to say it to him. He doesn't want to leave me. It's his duty to go, his job to go, this is what we pay for all the 'perks' of military life. Sometimes it helps, more often it doesn't. It's the bandage wrapped tightly around my sprained heart to keep the swelling manageable. I can feel the throbbing of the damage through the bandage, keeping time with my heartbeats. Breathe through the pain. Just like all other wounds.

Then there's the last days before he leaves. Laundry to be done every other day so that all his stuff is clean and ready to go. Shaving cream and razor refills to be set out so that he doesn't forget them. Double and triple checking, paperwork and random things around the house. The unspoken words that rise in my throat, choking my voice. I want to bury my face in his armpit and grab his shirt until my knuckles spasm. I keep having to remind myself to let go before I rip his clothing, before I hurt him. It doesn't do any good, because a minute later my hands are knotted in his shirt again. Don't leave me. Life goes on regardless. I can see empty days stretching out before me. My baby's first steps, her first words. He's not going to be here to see them. As much as that breaks my heart it's worse for him.

So I'm going to give my girl a hug and tuck her into bed tonight, and tomorrow when I see my husband I'm going to hold his hand and tell him that I love him. Because very soon I'm not going to be able to say it to his face.

Deployments suck. The briefing for families was tonight. I went, sat through about half of it. I think. We left early, because I was tired and starting to get weepy. There is just so much to do, so much to think about. So much to get depressed over.

It feels like there's already a Sailor-shaped hole in my life. I'm already starting to think like a single parent, a navy widow, and it frightens me that I'm not more upset over it. I tell myself that he'll be back, and that the time will fly. That's part of what scares me. If I do okay, if I can handle everything that life throws at me, I am the wife that he needs and wants. If I do okay and can handle everything life throws at me I feel as though I am saying to the world that I don't need him. That I don't need him at all, except for the money and benefits that he provides. It's not true- I need him for so much more than that. I need him in my life, in my thoughts. When faced with hard times I need his presence in the back of my mind telling me that he loves me, that he knows I can come through this.

His body has left a giant hole in my life. His spirit remains with me. There's a song by Stevie Nicks called "Desert Angel". I'm including the text here, with appropriate credits to the artist and album. The melody is haunting and mournful, and in the end words of this song I can feel the longing. This is what I feel when I saw the Sailor-shaped Hole. This is the resolution I feel when I think of the endless miles of ocean between us, and the months before he will hold me in his arms again. I feel a part of all those other wives, living their own personal dramas and heartache while wondering if their husbands, fathers, and sons will ever come walking back to fill that hole again.

From the album "Enchanted"
Written by Stevie Nicks and M. Campbell.
I was born in the desert
So I know how it feels there
Well look up it's a shooting star
But it's as black as night no stars
Well this is the first thing,
That I've written
Since I wrote about freedom
And then the wall came down
Well we thought it was a great beginning
People were free to cross the line
But then something happened in the desert
Something broke the stars into pieces
Well I live below a great red mountain
In the shape of a great huge beast
In a place the indians call Paradice Valley
Well this has always been my sanctuary
I send that to you too
There on the other side of the world
In the desert
And we are the guardians
No black clouds just the faces of you
So where is my father,
Where has he gone
Where is my husband
Where is my son
Where is my father
Where has he gone
What is it that happened here
Is it real
This war
This can't be happening
Ooh well I need to see you
In your far away war
And you should know how much we love you
They call us here, Operation Desert Angel
They call us here, Operation Desert Angel
In waiting
Operation Desert Shield
Operation Desert Storm
Operation Desert Angel

Today was a sucess! KittyCat has slept, and slept well. We've got her napping again and back on a good bedtime schedule. Tonight for dinner I made homemade mac n cheese cassarole, and it was well-received.

On a sober note, the Boy's deployment may be moved up significantly. This is causing no small worry on my part, mostly a vague anxiety. While I don't have the concerns that I had last time he was gone for a long time- there are some new ones. It's going to be an awfully long time on one hand, and not that long on the other hand. I'll write more on this later. I don't want to get all choked up on it tonight.

Tomorrow I get to go and get new contacts~ I am all excited about it. My baby girl won't be trying to pull my glasses off my face with her drooly little hands (as much) after tomorrow. Plus, my peripheral vision is really a lot better when I'm wearing contacts, and I'll be able to wear sunglasses when outside and driving. Now that the days are going to get longer again and I'm driving in the sunshine, this is of great importance.

Went to the quilt shop today, and it brought back so many good memories of childhood. There was a 50% off sale on flannel, and I bought a bunch for the preemies. Tonight I think I'll be able to cut out and sew up a bunch of blankies. The three of us -Grammy, Mommy, and KittyCat- had a lot of fun wandering all over the downtown area. As Grammy pointed out, it's a lot like the town she grew up in. If that town had palm trees and was flat.

It's a very nice area, overall. I'm so glad she's finally here. I took a nap yesterday afternoon and again this morning, and it was AMAZING. I closed my eyes and burrowed under the pillows and quilts, and every muscle I have as well as some I didn't know I had relaxed at once. An hour later I woke up, feeling as though I'd slept for three hours. What's the difference? Mama's here. She fixes everything.

I guess we're ready. One giggly baby- check.
One guest bed, inflated and made up with clean sheets and a Sunbonnet Sue quilt- check
One sink, bleached- check.
Hair? Brushed.
Face? Clean.
Clothes? On body.

Off to the airport. To pick up a grandma. I'm going to have so much fun!

Temptation.
Dove chocolate. Chai Latte. Citrus-based body products.
Anything claimed as 'educational'.
If it's educational, I'll consider it. Especially if it promises to make my life easier. There's just not enough energy to keep up with the demands of adulthood and toddler-hood. If I can distract the KittyCat for a certain crucial period of the day I'm happy. This morning the child got way too over-tired. She was wired. In the happy giggly place that precedes total sleep.

There's a very slight chance that having now gone to la-la-land, she'll actually stay there for the rest of the night. I can cope with that. Tomorrow Grammy descends upon us with the force of a natural Event. Let's all pray that it's not a disaster.

I Heart Costco.

In my entire week, it seems that I've been looking forward to today's trip. So much so that my heart leaped for joy when I found that the Boy had run out of deoderant this morning. Or maybe that was just the lingering stomach flu? I digress. There I was, not an hour ago, gleefully steering the oversized shopping bin around the aisles, trying not to run over any of the spanish-jibbering families who were blocking my way, and feeling an insane desire to run really fast behind the cart, and then jump up on the back axle and ride it down the aisle going WHEEEEEE at the top of my lungs.

I mean it. Where else can I satisfy my cheese lust? A 5lb bag of shredded cheese for 10 bucks. That's like, a sale price on shredded cheese! And it's a 5lb bag! Let's see, that's going to last me about 3 weeks. 4, if I behave myself. The scary thing is, that was not a joke.

In the end I walked away with only the essentials. Cheese, freezer bags, deoderant. There are so many things I could have gotten, that would have broken my budget this month and seriously put a crimp in my plans for the next quarter- but that would also mean that I wouldn't have an excuse to go in every other week. That would break my heart.

wild woman
i'm a maiden no more
turned in my garland for a barley sheaf
motherhood in word and deed
i'm dancing up on the hill in the middle night
starless
my child asleep in the leaves
blanketed by the moss
watched over by the spirits
i'm talking to my god in the darkness
strangers no more
buying my answers
if only i could remember my questions
they all change
don't want to know the whys
i want to know the future
i want to know that my babe will grow
i want stars to shine in her blue eyes
eyes that will not fracture as my own
i want her hair to shine
redgold curls that fall over her shoulders...
i'll buy my answers
in blood or gold
in faith held in the silence
hold her close to my heart

do not come to the hill tonight
it's not safe

Another day that I wish I had Mother's Little Helpers. Don't know why, it's not like anything out of the ordinary is happening today. I am even on top of things around the house for once. I just want to feel some sort of warm rush through my skin and not worry about anything. I don't want to worry about the KittyCat, or my body giving out early, or the pain in my hips and back... I don't want to worry that I will get too dizzy carrying the trash to the dumpster. I don't want to get heart palpitations just by doing a simple load of laundry.

Maybe someday this will pass. Maybe someday I'm going to be the mother I want to be and can stop worrying that I won't make the cut- that my daughter isn't going to think that I'm a worn-out broken-down old lady before she's even halfway grown. In the meantime I should just enjoy what I have while it's here. The grass outside, the sun streaming down on the courtyard under my window. The orange and blue Birds of Paradise blooming at every corner of this complex. It's a marvelous place to live, where there are always flowers blooming. I'm going to count my blessings today. Live in the moment. Stop borrowing trouble.

Hi everybody! I'm back. There was a *ton* of computer issues around here for the past week, and then we had to wipe my harddrive last night. But cross my fingers everything is fixed now.

The Child Sleeps, once again, and Mama is loosed upon the world and the internet in general. We've both been under the weather the past couple of days- which did not aid in the computer issues at all. I'm eating scrambled eggs by myself for dinner tonight, as the Boy has duty on the big tin box that we laughingly call his Other Home. At the end of the week my own Mama will be visiting our fair city for a whole month. Yippee! I'm eager for her to arrive. I'm eager once again to throw my own arms around my mama's neck and wish hard that she'll fix everything. Just like when I was a little girl, I'm back to the place where I believe that she can fix all my anxieties in this area. She'll wave a magic wand and by virtue of her believing in me, I'll be able to do it. It had been years, and then one day during the pregnancy I was talking to her and blurted out "Tell me I can do this."

She told me I could. She told me that she believed in me, and that I would be a good mother. I believed her. It was as simple as that. For the first time in years and years, I believed her with the simple trust I had when I was five, and she kissed the boo-boo and made it better. As adults there are so many boo-boos out there. Most of the time we have to deal with them ourselves. Bad bosses, credit card debt, unexpected emergencies that drain the wallet and worse- leave us with barely enough emotional energy to take care of ourselves. As adults, we're expected to not run home to our parents to fix these things, barring their loving advice. Even so, there's still a time when all we really need is for someone else to believe in us. We find that in our lovers and partners, and in our friends, and when those needs touch the deepest and rawest insecurities of our hearts we turn back to where it all begins.

Mama. Daddy. Who are still the gods of our small worlds, who have unlimited powers and abilities. Who make it better.

whew! That's over. Back to normal now, at least as normal as it ever gets around here. The Boy is back at work today. KittyCat is back asleep after getting up way too early this morning. I'm awake after getting to go back to sleep for a heavenly half-hour. It would have been longer, but I had a very Strange Dream about frozen chicken...

I think this is a sign that I need to quick cook up all the chicken out of the freezer. I'm almost out of chicken stock in any case. Also, it smells really Yummy when it cooks down, and I haven't been able to play in the kitchen for a while.

Today is slated for laundry. There's a small mountain of it that threatens to topple and start an assault on the bedroom floor. If that happens, there's going to be no way to contain any of it. So, off to the laundromat! This may take a large part of my morning. At least I can get a good start on it while KittyCat's napping.

Blessings Be. Whether you and yours be christian, jewish, anything or anyone at all. Blessings be with you and your house today and in the coming year. Rejoice, the darkness of winter is beginning to end. Today the days will start to get longer again. Winter solstice, holy day, whatever you care to call it- it's still the same.

Today we come together as a family. We'll have a good time watching DVD's and eating popcorn. KittyCat will continue laughing and growing. I'm going to shelter in my husband's embrace, storing up warm memories for the long absence ahead of us in the coming year.

I've listed a preemie blanket for sale on my etsy site: www.maryelisabeth.etsy.com. Check it out, and don't forget to click one of the ads found on this page. Remember: it only takes a moment, and it would really help us out.

It's Christmas Eve. A year ago I was pregnant and waiting for my husband to come home and spend Christmas Day with us; a new family. A year ago I wasn't even supposed to be able to get pregnant. I very nearly lost my baby, both in pregnancy and after in those first stunning weeks in the NICU.

Miracles happen at Christmas. I was sitting in church this afternoon holding my wiggly little girl on my lap and I started crying. She's so happy and healthy and perfect, and her warm little head tucked up under my chin made me grateful and aware what a miracle she really is.

All the odds stacked against us- one functioning ovary, a stunted uterus that was drastically although not obviously affected by radiation treatments decades ago, malfunctioning hormones that misfired over and over again. The whatever it is that made my mother's and her sister's pregnancies so risky and nearly cost their lives and sanities. Offset that with my husband's military career that made medical treatment available to me. That ensured proper and above-average prenatal care. Which led to them finding my pre-eclampsia before I had a seizure and the fetal distress before we lost the baby. The level 3 NICU where my baby was nurtured to term.

I shouldn't be alive, and neither should she, and tonight I am counting all of my blessings that we have many years ahead of us.

It's been a long, long, week for us here in Paradise. My husband got a new computer. We're in the middle of setting up a lot of new stuff- both baby oriented and family oriented. Also trying to settle things for the upcoming deployment. As a result I haven't spent much time online, even to update this page.

KittyCat is getting more and more mobile. It takes more of my day to follow around after her. A good thing. I love watching how happy she is when she discovers something new. Exploring her world... I told the Boy last night that this is becoming less National Geographic and more Wild Kingdom.

I love her so much. She's smooshably cute.

meh.

I'm too tired to sleep, and I've got that tingly restless-stretchy feeling in my shoulder. You know that one, where you want to stretch one specific muscle/nerve bundle constantly. Do they even acknowledge restless shoulder syndrome? I don't care, as long as I get to go to bed at some point.

This is especially critical since my husband's got duty tomorrow, and I've got to do the baby-wrangling solo. But then comes Monday, and the rest of the week, and most of it he has off with me.

I woke up this morning in my husband's arms, warm and safe. I woke up with his hand over mine. I felt his heartbeat in the night. When I moved to get up, there was a sleepy protest as he tried to pull my hands back down under his chin.

Our daughter is sound asleep in her crib, curled against the side of the crib bumper and I can clearly recall the way her face lit up when her Daddy came home and lifted her up. It's a gray and foggy morning here just like it's been the past several weeks. Winter in Paradise. When the sun comes up it'll burn off the fog to shine brilliant sunlight through the house.

Except this morning we're not waiting anymore. My family is safely sleeping and under my roof. I am content. I want to bask in this peace for a long, long time.

My husband comes home today. Outside I feel all demure and proud of the way KittyCat has grown since he's been away. It hasn't even been that long, really. Two and a half weeks. One pay period. Half a month. And yet it still seems like a longer time than that.

Last night I went shopping with a friend and we bought special homecoming presents for our husbands. She has a pretty new outfit. I bought something slinky and pretty- one piece that I can wear often in regular life and one piece that I'll save just for him in intimate moments. The sun hasn't come out to burn off the fog here yet; I wish it would. In a way it's like how I've felt these past weeks. Without his presence here, my world is foggy and gray and just a little overcast. When I go to the pier to bring him home this afternoon, the sun will come out and I'm going to stretch my arms to the sky to try and hold the warmth just that little bit closer. Over the past couple of years, I've learned that this is the way a lot of navy wives feel. I'll expand that to encompass all military wives, though I can only speak for navy... we don't wither away and die without their presence in our homes, because we never really let them go. Our Husbands (and Wives) are still here; in our memories, in the ghosts that roam the house in the middle of the afternoon when the babies are napping and we remember how it felt to have our Loves holding us. Once I related it to a giant Him-shaped hole in my life. If we had broken up, it would have been a simpler matter of filling it with something or someone else. Since we hadn't broken up, and since we still loved each other LOTS, I had to hold that place ready for him to step back into when he returned.

Emotions are tricky things. When people ask me what I'm going to do during the next Long Deployment, now that I've got a baby, I tell them the truth. "I'm going to love him, and keep his house, and raise our child." That's really not that far off from what most women do.

My day off. Wow. It was incredible. It was fantastic. I didn't have to leave the house once, to get in the car and drive anywhere. I did do two loads of laundry, but I don't count that. So now we're doing the dance of the Sleepy Baby, where I spend time alternately feeding her, burping her, and tucking her into bed. Then I will get into my jammies and climb into bed, and get some much-needed sleep.

I keep thinking this week is going faster than it is. It's been Thursday for two days now. Maybe tomorrow it's actually going to be Thursday, because my Boy comes home Friday. I'm looking forward to seeing him again. I'm looking forward to a hug and a kiss and the strong shoulder that will share these burdens.

I'm still struggling with depression today. I would have thought that it would lift a bit for the holidays. There's so much going right, right now. My husband is home. My daughter's first Christmas. We're together as a family this first year, and we'll always have that to warm our hearts.

Maybe I should go back to the doctor and get my antidepressants changed. Maybe I should take up a new hobby, or do something more physical with my life. The plant that I bought nearly a year ago is almost dead for good this time; I can't seem to ever keep a houseplant alive. What does that say about my ability to parent? I can't even nurture a potted plant...

My friends think that I'm too hard on myself. I don't think I'm hard enough on myself. Here I sit, whining about things that I could control if I'd just expend an effort. It's just so hard to keep getting out of bed in the morning. Easier, now that KittyCat has begun waking me up with happy laughter and smiles. My depression moves to the long evenings when she's gone to sleep and I'm left alone in this apartment with the chores and the internet to help me pass time. It becomes a struggle to stay out of bed at 6 o'clock. I just want to crawl under the covers and hide. Please, God, let me sleep and not know any of this until the baby wakes me again to sunshine and laughter.

I'm in a Black mood tonight. Don't look at me. I don't want them to know how bad I feel right now.

So no glider was bought yesterday. I meant to, but I just ran out of steam and motivation, and the KittyCat was sleepy. And okay, I was sleepy too. The past two days I've alternated between sleepy and wired, and maybe soon that will pass and I'll either get some real sleep or learn how to maximize the sleep I do get.

Not to imply that I didn't enjoy the reason why I had lack of sleep. Definately not. She's cute and giggly and having so much fun playing with her toys and laughing that I start laughing just to see her. It makes the depression this weekend easier to handle, because when the Black set in I could remember the joy in her. I was able to keep in mind that this is temporary, this will pass, and that all I have to do is to wait it out.

Still waiting. Lather, rinse, repeat until the desired level of anti-depression has been reached.

because you love me I can move mountains
your faith in me gives me strength in the dark times
when I cannot seem to move for the pain
my heart bleeds and I do not know why
but I remember that you love me
it gives me the strength to lift my arms
to finish my chores and to rest
at the day's end
I remember that you love me
it makes me pretty
seen through your eyes I'm not ugly
not stupid for this stubborness
without you I would never know the joy
that I've known
that does not fade with time
only grows stronger

Going shopping for a glider rocker today. It seems that every time my Boy's been away recently I move furniture around. This time at least I have help.

I'm also considering picking up a bunch of individual formula bottles. Yes, they cost a lot, but I'll be able to tuck one in her diaper bag when we're out and for those unexpected emergencies she'll have something to eat. Also, when we're next traveling I'm probably going to get them for the plane. Very convenient, no mixing of bottles while schlepping through airports.

Yesterday I set up an Etsy.com shop to start selling some of my crafts. So far I only put up some scrunchies to sell, but I'm planning on listing more soon. Take a look, and help support crafters!

http://maryelisabeth.etsy.com

Motherhood really does change everything, you know. A year ago I wouldn't have been up half the night and still eager to see the sun come up or hear that little giggle from the nursery. Even two months ago, I don't think that I'd be this happy to be awake now after waking up every two and a half hours all night long.

It's that little giggle that makes all the difference. When I go in to see her in the morning, and she's so happy to see me. Always happy to see me, so full of joy. Better than anything else I could imagine. As good as seeing my husband again after several weeks or months apart, and burrowing my face in his shoulder as his arms wrap around me.

With this in my life, who has time to be depressed?

There's a tree in the courtyard
Reaching up arms to the sky
Prayers I can't say
Stand in the dark by the window
I watch the tree
Pray for serenity to fill me
Give me time enough and peace enough
Strength to be the mother they need
If I close my eyes I'll come up
Dream that one day I climbed the tree
Sat breathing apple blossoms
Tuck white petals in my hair
Reach up my own arms to pray
Serenity, I whisper
Let it be
Peace, tonight, and my family safe in bed
Only this matters

KittyCat has bronchitis. This involved a very long trip to the hospital yesterday, and x-rays to rule out pneumonia. I could have done without that little scare, but am pleased to report that all is well. She's well hydrated, which helps, and doesn't have a fever. She is right now happily playing on the floor while I'm sipping hot chocolate and wishing that I could crawl back under the blankets for another couple of hours. Such is a mother's lot in life; the child is the main reason that I get out of bed in the morning. Especially before the sun comes up. Even more especially when I'm still feeling the aftereffects of yesterday's little adventure.

I've got a list of things that I want to get done today. I somehow feel that half that list is going to be ignored. Hopefully it won't be; if I can get all that done today than I can probably take most of tomorrow off to sit around and play with the KittyCat.

Oh well. That's life. Excuse me while I go and live it!

KittyCat is curled up on my lap right now, one little hand playing with my fingers on the keyboard and the other tucked comfortingly under my breast. She's all warm and cozy, with a full belly and heavy eyelids. A short while ago we were sitting in the rocking chair after her breakfast and her head was tucked up under my chin. She was fine where she was, and definately did not want to move.

It's the new baby smell. The soft little downy head snuggled up to my chin. The warm body pressed against mine and manuevering her way into my oversized sweater. It's the chubby little hands and the bright wide eyes that tell me: "This is Right."

I never dreamed that I'd be so happy being a mother. I never dreamed that this level of peace and happiness could be so sustainable. Despite the depression that's come into my life with a new intensity over the past year, I've been blessed with an equal level of joy to overcome it. The highs balance the lows, and all is well with my universe.

I want another one. I want another little blessing in my life. I want this feeling of love and trust to last forever. How could anyone not want this joy? It's incomprehensible to me.

Today is going to be a List Day. Maybe I'm running out of ideas this weekend, maybe I'm just bored this morning. But really, what it probably is, is that I'm using most of my writing energy to edit a few ideas down for my current Project. The working title is "Through the Night", and it's a collection of poems and essays that I've written in the months since KittyCat was born. Some of these have appeared on this blog, some have never before appeared anywhere. I'm trying to make it about two-thirds (or more!) new content, so when it becomes available for purchase I'm hoping my faithful readers will pick up a copy.

Hell, pick up two copies, and give one to a friend! Help me keep the KittyCat in diapers and cute onesies.

What I'm reading:
Flag in Exile, by David Weber
Field of Dishonor, by David Weber
Alexandra: the Last Tsarina, by Carrolly Erickson

What I'm making (currently working on, not the pile of UFOs in the cupboard):
preemie blankets -for the NICU
embroidered pillowcases, in 'Butterfly and Ivy' pattern
socks
flannel bags for breastpump kits -to donate to the NICU

Five things that I need to throw out of my fridge:
half a cup of chopped onion, 1 month old
two slices of low-sodium spam, 3 weeks old
mostly empty tub of ranch dip, 1 week old
little bit of milk, spoiled, don't remember how old but it doesn't smell anymore...
barbecue sauce bottle, expired 11 months ago

...who says that being a housewife is dull? I could be creating my old mutant army in the fridge, if I just put off cleaning it for another couple months.

Motherhood: The New Frontier...

Our intrepid heroine once again tackles fussy baby, the evil archnemesis of KittyCat. Her evil twin, Skippy, as it were. Having brought my car into the service center to get fixed, I had arranged that she spend the day with the downstairs neighbor, who is preparing to move out soon. All was well when I left the house. A blissful two hours followed, in which I ate doughnuts on a cushy chair in a nicely appointed waiting room. Then came the call. The neighbor needed me to come and get the KittyCat, because Skippy had decided to take over.

So I let the service people know, and arranged that they should come back to pick me up after the repairs. The neighbor lady picked me up, and KittyCat was reunited with her Mommy. Back home she slept the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. Skippy was vanquished. Yay!

Onto the sadder news: my 4-wheeled baby will require some major repairs and certain parts that have to be special ordered from Tennessee. Hopefully they'll be here tomorrow, otherwise I'll have to wait until Monday to get my babies back together again.

Sigh. At least my thrifty ways these past weeks have ensured that we have enough diapers, wipes, and various accoutrement to survive the weekend without the car. I just feel so naked without it sitting in the parking lot.

Advise me!

I'm once again shopping for a digital camera. What's your favorite? Which model is easy to use and durable (likely to survive a small child)? There will be prizes for good answers.

Watch out, World! KittyCat is discovering her feet today!

She's full of giggles and laughter, and it's so wonderful to watch her. This should be bottled as a cure for depression, since it's impossible for me to feel bad about myself when she's so genuinely happy. When I think back to all those weeks of depression following the pregnancy and birth, and the general unhappiness of her early months at home, it's hard to reconcile that with right now. KittyCat is on her tummy, face-first in her Dolly, and is in the process of wiggling her way across the floor to where I am. She's moved 6 inches in the past three sentences. Soon there's going to be no stopping her.

This is why I get up in the morning.

Seven months ago today, I got to be a Mommy. That is, I was knocked over the head, sliced open, and when I came to there was an infant security bracelet around my wrist.

What changes in seven months. I'm so much more responsible now than I was then. I feel like I know so much more, am more capable of dealing with sudden crises, and am somehow ten years older. When she smiles at me I want to laugh. When she laughs I want to stand up and proclaim to the world that this is MY girl. That I have the most brilliant child in the world. She can laugh, she can smile, and she knows who I am.

In twelve years or so she's going to pretend that she doesn't know me when we're walking out together at the mall. She won't want anything to do with me when her friends are watching, and she'll have the worst taste in clothes and makeup. That's alright. She'll still be the chubby little girl with the wide blue eyes that makes every sucky thing that's ever happened to me worthwhile.

I've really been neglecting my writing this holiday period, huh? Well, that's mostly because nothing much has been happening around here. I got scoped this morning, upper and lower, and the drugs that they gave me were really good. I don't remember a thing about it. That's the kind of uncomfortable medical procedure that I like :)

Now KittyCat's clamoring for Mommy's attention again. I came home and went straight to bed, and haven't left it until now. I'm hungry for real food. I'm also still just a bit woozy. More will follow tomorrow; suffice it to say that everybody has survived this morning.

some random things that I've learned in my frugal endeavors:

homemade baby wipes are not worth the effort it takes to make them, at least in this household. It's also not necessary to spend a fortune for name-brand thick wipes. For us, the pop-up type is so much more convenient, does the job just as well, and we can get three packs of the hypoallergenic stuff from Target for the same as we'd spend on the thick stuff.

Breadmakers would take up too much of my precious counter space, and I really do like playing with the bread dough twice a week. For me, at least half the enjoyment of the bread experience is in kneading, and in being able to smell the yeasty-goodness as it burbles away in the corner.

You really can get more use out of a dryer sheet by cutting it in half. One half per load. I still wouldn't reuse them between multiple loads, though.

Drooling Attack Babies get you a lot of special perks when you go down on the pier. Such perks include doors being held open, and multiple strangers offering to assist you by pushing the stroller up large steep ramps.

KittyCat is slowly returning to normal after her week of fun and sniffles. Her sleep schedule is shot all to hell, but today she's had two short naps and I'm very hopeful that we'll avoid a major meltdown tonight.

I'm still sniffly. Tonight I have great hopes of taking another hot shower and relaxing once she's asleep. And just maybe I'll get some cuddle time with the love of my life. Got to store it up while I can, don'tcha-know? Tomorrow he's got duty, which sucks most suckfully; after that I'll get him back for a nice long weekend. I've got to concentrate on feeling better soon, so I can wish him a long and memorable goodbye.

Dial 1-800-I-AM-SICK, and receive your complimentary supply of used kleenex! Now available in the jumbo assortment pack of Daddy, Mommy, and Yellow Baby Snot! Call right now and we'll include a stuffy head, aching sinuses, and a FREE cough! What are you waiting for?

...It's the dayquil shots, y'know? They're starting to affect my sense of humor. At least I can still function, and my Boy is feeling slightly better this morning. I was up every hour or so to clear my sinuses out again, though. I miss being able to take Theraflu for a good night's sleep. Although I've got the non-drowsy stuff around, and maybe I'll sip slowly on that this morning. It would definitely be better than nothing.

KittyCat is happier this morning than she was yesterday. She's not nearly as stuffy, and I credit the sudafed with that. Happy Mama Dance! I can deal with feeling horrible myself, as long as she's feeling better sooner. And obviously since I'm feeling so crappy this is the perfect time to be watching a documentary on the 1918 Spanish Influenza. I've been fascinated for most of my life with the Spanish Flu. My family didn't have a gruesome history with the pandemic, yet it still speaks to something deep inside me. Our flu story was about my great-great-grandmother; when the church bells rang to declare the armistice, her fever broke and the family knew that she would live. Over the years I've read everything I could find on the subject. I've looked up the microfiche records of local papers to read the death notices, and see how fast the progression was. The first week it was in the community there were a handful of real obituaries. The second week, it was a column of tersely worded obits. The third week, there was nearly a page of names, dates, and mere basics. There was no space for anything else, and I believe that everybody was numb by that time. With so many dead and dying, there was nothing left to feel for them.

It really sucks when the whole family is sick. So far I seem to be the healthiest. The boy is sick. The baby is sick. I've been suctioning her poor little nose all evening; she seems to be sleeping better propped up in her vibrating chair. My head hurts, and my sinuses are throbbing.

I am tired, and sick of being sick. Only the thought that this gives me an excellant excuse to reschedule half of my doctors for this week makes me feel better.

I wish I could go to bed right now with my boy and some theraflu, and sleep it off. Mama's don't get sick. Mama's have to make it better. I'll be a Mama this week.

Into every life a few drops of rain must fall. This has generally meant that I slip and fall on my ass in the mud. Until this year.

In the space of one short year my entire life has been turned head over heels. I have a baby now. The most gorgeous little girl I ever saw. She's the light of my life; she encourages me daily to strive further for the Me I Know I Can Be. All this and she can't even form consonants yet.

This morning I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep right away. Unfortunately KittyCat decided to sleep through the wakeup at that hour. I ended up making myself sit up with a book during the 'normal' middle-night wakeup anyway. My boy couldn't sleep. He played on the computer again. We're all coming down with colds this week. Not fun. She's sniffling and fussy, and the grownups are busy drinking hot tea and theraflu. I wish they made theraflu for babies. I'm also probably going to reschedule our Tuesday appts; I don't want to expose her to anything worse than a cold right now.

I keep hearing that I need to prioritize a little better, that it will ease my stress levels immensely. That if I just figure out what's most important and take steps to deal with it, I'll sleep better and be happier in the long run. Good theory. The trouble I have putting it into practice is figuring out what I can delegate. Figuring out what I can do... what I've got to give up.

Today I gave up on the ability to go grocery shopping. If all my various doctor appts keep up at the pace they've been going, I'm barely having the energy to go there, come home, and play with KittyCat. The past couple of days I almost felt cheated, because I was unable to make time to play with her during the awake and alert hours. These are the most precious days of her childhood. She needs a mommy here, not a mommy dragging her from store to store to store trying to do all the errands that have to be done after she's been in daycare and Mommy's been seeing the doctors. That only leads to no naps, overtired babies, meltdowns on both ends, and a nervous collapse.

I did it. I placed my first online grocery order. It will be delivered to my door, and I didn't have to get out of the house to do it. It took me almost an hour to do the actual shopping and listing, but the KittyCat was fussing. I didn't have to wheel a cart through the aisles, keeping one eye on the other shoppers so I don't accidentally run them down and the other eye on KittyCat's mood. Oh yeah, and there's the other little matter of being able to transport all the stuff in from the car when I get home. While juggling a baby in her carrier, and not being able to count on making multiple trips to do it.

Tomorrow morning the groceries will arrive. I've managed to reclaim this afternoon for me and KittyCat. Maybe when she wakes up from her nap we'll go out to the park and play. Okay, so I couldn't use coupons on the order, and they'll charge me a delivery fee. On the other hand, I still get all the going sale prices, and that's where I've been saving most of my money lately anyway. I'm also getting part of my life back. I'm already feeling less stressed. If this works out, I may go to once a month shopping. Only have to pay out the delivery fee once a month, and gain more time to be a mother.

One more day and night and my Boy is home again! We're all excited here. I have so many things that I want to get done today; vacuum the living room, bake some yummy bread, buy chicken. Last night my neighbor asked me to babysit her son so she and her husband could run out and play a couple games of volleyball. I was glad to do it; he's grown so much since the last time I saw him! Poor kid had a stuffy nose though. Lucky for me the KittyCat slept through the whole thing. I'm not sure how I would have dealt with two fussy kids on my hands.

I'm also working on getting the KittyCat back on a sleep schedule. Last night's battle was eventually won. Now we're struggling this morning with the aftershocks of her exhaustion, and not wanting to nap, and being so tired that she keeps falling asleep on her bottle. I have great hopes that she'll settle soon. Also, I'm introducing a slightly different bottle on her this morning, and given her stubborness, she is having trouble admitting that yes indeed she can drink from it. The doctor informs me that she's just stubborn, that there's no physical reason that she should be unable to take different nipples.

I was like, this is supposed to be news? I knew she was stubborn. Her daddy knows she's stubborn. What else do you expect from a polish/scotch-irish/pennsylvania dutch hybrid?

I'm posting from the bunker I've built in the living room. Operation Cry It Out has officially begun, and the anguished wails of a sleepy KittyCat are filling the air. Every few minutes there's a pause for breath, as she realizes that her "I'm not Tired" routine has finally worn out it's welcome.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find camoflague earplugs to complete my ensemble. The In Uniform for this war is jeans and t-shirt. With blue fuzzy ballet-style slippers. And a ponytail. I lit a scented candle to assist in my efforts at non-surrender. Time and a full stomach are on my side. There will be sleeping tonight. She will learn to self-soothe. Nobody's died from this yet.

Twenty minutes into Operation Cry It Out. There is a brief, but significant pause. Then, as if by magic she realizes that no one is running to her cries. The wailing resumes. I have to wait another 4 minutes before I can go in to quietly tell her "shoosh. It's time for sleep now. Mommy loves you. Everything's fine." I rub her belly and re-position her feet so that they're back in separate legs of her sleeper jammies. Then I tuck the blankets back in around her and leave the room.

I know that this will pass. Mommy will win the battle because she's older and more stubborn than KittyCat. After all this crying, she's going to wear herself completely out.

I'll post again later, and keep you informed of the war's progress.

Since I've been knitting preemie blankets, I've noticed a definate upswing in my mood when I sit down to knit. That can't be a bad thing, now that the days are getting noticably shorter and the daylight flees before I'm ready to sit down and relax. I need every bit of patience and good mood I can muster to make it through these days without bursting into tears. Tears would not be a good thing right now.

As I was untangling a big mess of blue yarn this morning, I felt that still small smile creep into my face. That knowing little smirk that just screams SERENITY in big neon flashing letters. The nice one. It makes me feel so much like a woman when that happens. I need to go take a hot shower now, and use all the scented lotions and soaps and light a candle or two. I'm soft, and pretty, and feminine. I am Motherhood, fulfilled. I am a Goddess, in this moment of peace. My fingers fly through the soft yarns. As I create these little blankets for incredibly small miracles, I say a prayer or two for them. May their dreams be deep, may they grow big and thrive. May their mothers hold them in the comfort of their own homes soon.

I've seen the physical therapists. I'm being sent to PT three times a week now. Lovely. Just when I had hopes of being done at the hospital for the week, I've got to go back tomorrow. And sweat.

I hate sweating. Nothing good comes from sweating, or exercising. At least, nothing good for me ever came of it.

I'm beyond exhausted again, and I need a nap. I just can't fall asleep. As soon as I go to sleep, the KittyCat wakes up and then I wake up. I hope she grows out of this stage soon.

another payday, another paycheck. For a change, the bank balance was still in the black this morning when I dared to look. It was a good feeling.

On the agenda today: a field trip to costco, and back (again) to the hospital. KittyCat has her developmental assessment this morning. If it weren't for the county public health nurse coming once a month to do the same thing I'd be much more worried. Lately she's been acting much more like I thought a baby should be acting... in any case there's little to be done about it. I'm doing the best I can. So is she. There is no "right" answer at this stage.

I miss my boy. I miss burrowing into his back at the end of the day, and feeling his arms wrapped around my back when I'm feeling jittery. Four more days and a wakeup, and he's mine again.

“And now these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love. And the greatest of these is Love.”

Strong words that sent a chill down my spine the first time I read them. Words that held an odd power over me even when I didn't believe that any of these would ever be a factor in my life. When my class was set this passage as our Bible memory work for the marking period, I would sometimes close my eyes at that verse. Ever after, I would turn them over in my mind whenever those traits seemed too unattainable for me.

Over the years I thought I had figured them out. Then I got married, and I faced a completely different set of fears from all those I had lived with before. I was in love, and even though the initial infatuation had passed I still wanted to cling to him. To keep safe in the life we had; it may not have been perfect. We were always broke, walking a fine line of debt and paychecks, and still I was afraid of change. I didn't want to lose him. I didn't want to be left alone. So when he went off to war I married him, and I cried when I kissed him goodbye and drove away from the bus station.

Suddenly there was a whole new set of meanings in that verse. I had to have faith that he would return, that I would not be alone forever. I had hope that the future would bring us back together in a better place. I loved him. I never believed that love could conquer everything before; that winter I made myself believe. It does and it doesn't conquer. Everything hinges on supporting love with faith and hope. Also, it doesn't hurt if you're committed to somebody worthy of that love.

I found somebody worthy of me. I will spend the rest of my life working to make myself worthy of him.

...Because I am a strong, smart little woman, who can take care of myself, that's why!

This morning I woke up to the wonderful feeling of being fully rested, with the sunlight peeking in through the window and both arms stretched out above my head under the pillow. The blankets were warm, my head didn't hurt for the first time in three days, and the blissful sound of silence came from the nursery. I knew it wouldn't last. I knew that I should take advantage of this time to eat breakfast, drink my first cup of tea, and get myself in a good mood so that when KittyCat began to stir with her first FEED ME cry of the day I could go in with a natural spontaneous smile on my face.

I decided to bury my head under the pillow instead. It was a good feeling. I didn't eat breakfast, I didn't have my tea until about an hour after she woke up, and that wonderful experience of rolling around in the blankets this morning gave me that smile as a bonus. I even got to make the early church service this morning, instead of the late one. Although in the future I may stick with the later one in the winter just because it's warmer...

Another thing I am blessedly thankful for today is that KittyCat has once more embraced sleep. After her nap strike of yesterday, I was dreading a repeat. But no, she's deeply asleep in her crib. I'm hoping that she'll be in a happy mood when she wakes up. Then we can play, cuddle, and have a decent bedtime so that we both get a good night's sleep.

I never used to believe in that. I took sleep for granted. No more. Sleep is more precious to me than hot bubble baths. More precious than found money. Sleep is something that I want gift-wrapped with a bow on top for Christmas this year.

Who am I?

I'm a mother, and a wife, and a daughter, and a niece... I work with my hands. I quilt, and sew, and knit. These skills can help turn a house into a home. In the back of my mind I always wanted to be a homemaker, just as I am now. I've gone through so many changes since I first dreamed of being a grownup. Some dreams weren't healthy for me, and I learned to let them go. Others seemed too good for what I was, and through love and effort I let go of what was and embraced what I could be.

I'm happier now than I ever thought possible five years ago.

This morning I'm sitting here, wondering how I can transform my living space into something even better. After the furniture rearrangement, I'm starting to think things like "I need to get rid of some clutter." "I need to bake more." "I need to put my hair up more, and wear my makeup, and keep making an effort to look pretty."

Sometimes I feel bad that I'm not busy every hour of the day, like my foremothers were. Idle hands and the devil's work, and all that. Not today. This is the day of resting, after all, and not even my own grandmother could argue with that. So I'm going to refuse to feel guilty today. This is a beautiful day, and I should take a walk outside with KittyCat later on. I need to enjoy the time I have now, because it's not going to last.

Patience is not something that comes naturally to me. I suspect that it will be even harder to instill this in the KittyCat, when she's older. In the meantime all I can do is try to set a good example for her, and at least pretend to have patience. This is tested this morning, because I want to feed her. She's not hungry. Therefore, no point in trying to force her to eat. It just makes a mess.

She's far more interested in stuffing her fist into her mouth and sucking on her jammies. Until she actually gets hungry, there's no point in trying to distract her either.

One thing I learned yesterday- it's a bad idea to start an email to someone with "If you come home and the furniture's all different, don't be surprised."

They may think that you've lost your mind...

I've finally figured out the reason that I hate vacuuming. The entire procedure just seems so unwieldy. First I have to pick up everything off the floor -including the endtable plastic storage tubs, to do a thorough job- and then I have to wrestle the vacuum out of the depths of the utility closet. Then it's the dance with the vacuum across the floor. That part isn't so bad. It's a good thing. I wouldn't hate the task so much if the vacuum could just sit in the corner of the room, always plugged in and accessible. Yet that would be insane, and clutter an already full living area, and the Boy would rip out what's left of his hair. He didn't become bald until after I moved in with him. Coincidence? I think not.

KittyCat has expanded her escape reportoire lately. I dressed her in a long sleeved onesie and a pair of pants yesterday. I set her on the floor to play, and five minutes later I looked down to find them kicked off and down around her feet leaving her chubby pink thighs waving in the air. I would have expected this from loose pants, but these had pretty good elastic around the waist. Or so I thought. After a day spent chasing after her in an attempt to keep her pants on the mailman delivered my answer in the form of my Netflix selections. About five minutes into the first episode of Red Green, it was so obvious that I could have hit myself.

Duct Tape. The Mother's Secret Weapon.

I'm so stocking up on this at Costco next week. I figure a roll a month should keep her pants on. Maybe this will also help keep her from escaping the pajamas, the diapers, and the socks? Why didn't anyone remind me about duct tape while I was pregnant?

When I sit down and pick up my knitting, and my fingers start flying through the yarn, my mind becomes gloriously clear. I can think about so many things at that point without having to stop and deal with something else. Just the textures through my fingers and the clicking of the needles, and the smooth progression of one stitch following another. Across the row. Row after row, inch after inch, and before I know what has happened my mind is clear and my thoughts are focused and I feel perfectly centered again.

This is a good thing, I've come to realize. So, now when I have a few quiet minutes here and there, when KittyCat is asleep for an hour or so or when she's down for the night and I'm sitting in bed with my eyes telling me how sleepy I am and how much I need to be doing something else, I pick up my needles again. It's a wonderful feeling. It's a glorious peace of mind that I am learning how to grasp anywhere I can find it.

Sure, I can stop any time I want to. Just like my mom can stop playing Bejeweled, and just like everybody I know can 'put the book down and go to sleep' at 0300.... when they protest “I can stop reading. Just one more chapter, and I'll turn the light out, I promise!”

Yeah, right. This is why I wasn't allowed to take flashlights to bed. This is why my husband has learned to sleep with the covers pulled over his head to shut out the light. This is also perhaps why my eyesight is so bad that my eyeglass lenses resemble the infamous coke bottle stereotype. But it's an honest obsession. And I really love those stolen moments of clarity in my day, when everything makes sense and nothing is out of place. This is where I breathe. This is my Happy Place, and where I want to continually escape to. Where I used to dream of a quiet room with a sunbeam and a book, I now dream of a sunbeam and my needles.

Cotton Candy Pink. Baby Blue. Rainbow Sparkles. These are the yarns I'm working with this week. Yummy.

Everybody is born with certain gifts and talents. That's just the way it is. They may never discover what those talents are, but I'm sure that they are still there. I have had this feeling for a while, and right now I've been thinking about it a bit more because of something I agreed to the other week at church when I was in a good mood. I was asked to contribute to the Advent devotional. Apparantly this is a thing they do every year; a bunch of people get the scripture readings for the day and they come up with a short devotion about one of them that gets printed up and distributed for the congregation. As I'm good at writing, and it's the sort of thing that I find easy to do, I thought 'Hey, sounds neat, and it lets me give something back to these nice people'.

Then I procrastinated on it for a week and a half.

No sweat though, I just wanted to be in the right place to look up the passages and figure out which one to write about. I finally found that moment yesterday morning, at the kitchen table, when the rest of the house was asleep. And one of the passages was all about Talents, and Gifts, and what God expects you to do with them. Wow. This is cool. This is something I really have an opinion on. This is going to be hard to keep down to only three paragraphs!

So I'm taking a moment to flex my mental muscles. Stretch my arms over my head. Take a moment to pop the bones in my wrists back into their proper alignment that was unfortunately changed by too much sudden stretching in the morning. I'm off to write my three paragraphs now. Wish me luck. Or maybe I'll procrastinate on it another day or so.

M of the NICU wants to know how I find the time to make so many little things, and says that I'm very creative. Um, no. Actually, I'm very depressed. I've just learned to let my hands get it out on yarn instead of self-mutilation, drugging, or drinking. Which is just fine and dandy until I'm drowning in yarn and the results of my depression.

This summer I spent a lot of time playing musical therapist. I thought that this would finally be solved by getting a staff psychologist instead of one of the interns. Not so- my therapist told me this afternoon that she's taking several months out starting in Feb. Coinciding with my Boy's deployment. Sigh. I know that she can't really help it, and she's more than entitled to her time off (maternity leave, and who am I to say that she should stay just for me?) and I'll take a switch with a good will. I hate breaking in new therapists, though, just when I'm getting the hang of this one's methods.

While I'm at it, I should explain why I signed up for that adsense thing. Money's kinda tight, as it is for everybody I know, and this seemed like a relatively easy thing. It's not going to pay our bills or anything like that, but every click is worth a couple of cents to me and it only takes a second or two of your time (and every couple of bucks buys another skein of yarn and makes 4 blankies for cute little preemies!). So if you've got a second, please click, and help fund my yarn addiction. Should I make a cardboard sign and stand on the side of the internet highway? It's not your own money, but it's a click or two of your time.

The holidays are upon us once again. In CT, the Salvation Army has begun it's kettle campaign. In Paradise, Christmas music begins to play in Target and Walmart, and everywhere I go I'm starting to see Christmas sales, ornaments, gift "ideas" springing up. This is the first Christmas of my KittyCat's life. This is the first Thanksgiving, the first New Year's. This is likely the only time that she's not going to beg me for special presents, or treats, just Because it's Christmas.

How many times can I use Christmas in this post? I don't know, and I really don't want to find out. LALALA I'm not listening to myself!!! But as Pratchett pointed out, the use of too many exlamation points in a sentence is a sure sign of a disordered mind. I'm ready to embrace my insanity, since it seems to be (today) of an innocent nature.

KittyCat's getting better at scooting her little body across the floor. As I type, she's managed to pull herself around from one toy to another, and now she's wondering why it won't go neatly into her mouth like her keys do. Right now we're working on her sleep habits. This may take some time, but I'm determined to get her to go to sleep happily and on her own without me having to put her down and pick her back up for two hours every night.

She's getting more curious and cute by the day...

So I have to ask myself, why does the past still hold so much power over me? Why is it that I go into therapy and sit there, stunned and half-dissociated from the memories welling up in my mind that I can't form a coherant sentence. Then I leave the room and it all comes back. It all makes sense again, and is okay again, and I wonder why...

I felt safe again this morning, I guess that's why I started remembering all those things. The day I found my mother with a razor against her wrist. The night my father's hands were around my throat. All those afternoons coming home from school and swallowing pill after pill and hoping that I'd never wake up again.

It's autumn again. Leaves fall to the ground and die, even here in Paradise. The days are chilly and there's the not-quite frost on my windshield in the morning. So much has changed. I don't intend to make the now in the image of the then, but it's awfully hard sometimes to keep them separated in my thoughts. I love my family, and my husband is everything that my father was not. No fears. No doubts.

...and I just caught a glimpse of the diaper genie out of the corner of my eye, and it looks like the lovechild of an imperial stormtrooper and R2D2... obviously this is a sign that my mind has left the dangerous realm of the flashback and nightmare, and gone on to a saner path of existance where I can find humorous observations again.

So what are your humorous observations for today? Discuss.

Weekly Wrap Up:
Today I'm feeling pretty good. I've lost 7 pounds since the 24th. My energy levels are still sucky, but I think that the new meds are starting to work. I can't take the prilosec too close to the Feldene, though... KittyCat got approved for the synagis shots, so I'm not having nightmares about taking her to the ICU for ventilation this year. An unexpected side benefit of her shots this week was that I got snagged for the flu shot.

I know, I should have it anyway... but I'm so busy running around to doctors and clinics and everything else that getting it just for myself is too much effort. Pediatrics must run into that a lot, cause when we went in they were offering it to the parents across the board, on the spot. That made it a LOT easier.

This morning I have so many plans. I want to juice down the remaining lemons in the fridge, and do laundry, and finish off a batch of Pump Kit Bags for the NICU. I'm dropping off a stack of blankies next week, and I'd love to be able to give some bags with that.

This morning we went for KittyCat's 6 month shots, and her flu shot, and I got mine done at the same time... so we're good for that. About five minutes ago the hospital calls to schedule her synagis shot. I'm thinking, Hot Damn, we're approved for it! Then I'm thinking, KittyCat's never going to want to leave the house again, if I keep taking her for all these shots. On the other hand, it could prevent her from getting a very threatening disease that is often fatal for preemies, and at the least would involve ICU for several days. I'm very happy that we passed the screening and that the powers that be are giving this to her. Many outside insurance companies make parents fight for it, cause it's so expensive. I could put it this way- one dose costs more than my husband makes in a month. Still cheaper than the ICU...

I gave up on the hope of getting any rest this afternoon, and made cup after cup of hot lemon tea. mmmm- Caffeine. It'll keep me on my feet until tonight, at any rate.

KittyCat's still sleeping though; we finally got her to go to sleep when my Boy came home this afternoon. It's a happy thing. I got the kitchen tidied for the first time today, and I even washed the floor. Brownie points for me.

fear is a four letter word.

I will not let fear tell me how to live my life. I mean it.