I just wandered over to BillsIQ and took their financial heath quiz. It was actually a fairly good one, compared to a lot of the others I've seen. Instead of trying to push their products on you all the time, it asked the right questions in a wide variety of areas. And of course it's easier to answer the questions truthfully when you're alone... I don't know about you, but when I'm sitting across from someone else it's awfully tempting to skew my answers to match what they seem to want to hear.

In the summer wind
cold money evaporates
dreaming in the breeze

Debt consolidation is one recommended way to help get your monthly bills under control. It's easy to lose sight of how much you owe other people when the amounts are spread around. It's easier to get overwhelmed by ten different interest rates, ten different companies and policies... and when you start feeling overwhelmed the most likely reaction is to run and hide until the stressor goes away. It might be a perfectly logical response, but it won't provide any Debt help. Seek the best form of Debt relief by facing the whole picture and making a plan to deal with it. Pay off the high interest cards first. Consolidate so that you only have to make one payment, only have to deal with one company.

You can take back your financial freedom. It's never too late.

We're getting ready to send Tiffany off to school on the bus this morning. Transport has been worked out and she came home on the bus last night. I know that a lot of parents have this worry about their kid on the first few solo bus-riding adventures. What if something goes wrong? What if they get lost? What happens when they get to school in the morning?

Thing is, by the time those kids go on the bus most of them can tell their name to someone who asks. Tiffany can, sometimes, if she wants to. It's by no means certain that she will. She's delightfully persistant. Worrying so at times. She fixates on her goal, and does what she needs to do to reach that goal. I just hope she uses her power for good.

I remember playing games with my mother a long time ago. She divided the day between me and her housework, a lot like I'm learning to do. When I woke up, most of the morning was mine. Her undivided attention for teaching me things, playing games, taking walks is one of the things that I treasured most. She made me feel like I was the most important thing in her world just then. I never doubted her love for me, or that my mother could fix anything at all that troubled me.

Sometimes she would bring out games from her own youth, games brought up from my grandmother's basement or down from the attic. Bingo was one. Dusty cards in the box, small wooden buttons with numbers, larger disks of deep blue to mark the spaces. A wonderful thing. A memory, of games and laughter, that lives deep inside my heart.

Disney Bingo seems like a cool way to make similar memories with my own kids. Certain computer games have been shown to help bridge the communication gaps my daughter experiences. Right now she's just starting to show an interest in Disney characters, and this game provides an interactive experience that might help her. The game is available at drugstore.com, or amazon.com at a fairly good price.

It's the night before the first day of school. I'm not quite sure how it's going to feel when I get the bus worked out; Tiffany is supposed to be transported, but it fell through the cracks and didn't get sent over to the transportation office until last week, and so we're going to need a few days into the school year for it to work out. I know how it'll be in the morning, my little girl will start laughing when she sees us going to school. She'll try to twist away from my hand to join the big kids on the playground. When we get to the classroom she'll forget I ever existed for a while.

Three hours later I'll be back to pick her up. Tired, disheveled, so happy. Run all around and play some more.

My big girl. Another year closer to growing up and away from me.

I'm back on an even track again, after a challenging week. It's Friday, it's payday, and this is when I pay the bills, balance the budget, and plan the grocery shopping for the next half-month. The sun is shining, the birds are singing in my backyard, and I'm thoroughly enjoying the hour or so of pure quiet while both kids are taking their rest and I have the rest of the house to myself for a bit.

Today has been great so far. Had a nice morning, our recess time went well, Tiffany had her usual blast running around the yard in her swimsuit and Little Blue Shoes trying to catch the sprinkler. We did more fingerpainting on the patio. I'm almost out of paint now, got to remember to look for more when I'm out. My bean plants are fully sprouted now. The green tops are leafy and starting to spill up over the sides of their boxes. I always forget how nice it looks, how green and vibrant. How alive. I wonder if it will stay that way, if I'll manage to grow a crop from this. I hope so. In our next home, I'd love to see a patio corner full of planter boxes and pots, all spilling over with fresh veggies. Beautiful.

Does every parent of a child diagnosed with an austic spectrum disorder lose their shit for a while during the period when this is evaluated, diagnosed, and treated??? Maybe that explains a few things. Maybe I'm more normal in outlook than not. Just know that I can't "pass" for normal average and stop trying? I'll concentrate on loving my kids. Loving my husband. Caring for everyone. If I can keep my own brain together, the rest of the family has to follow my lead in that.

Maybe I'll even grow eyes in the back of my head and be able to watch both children twenty-four hours a day.

I feel so defeated some evenings. I can't watch my daughter every second of the day. I can't take my eyes off her, or it seems that something happens that involves a lot of cleaning and disinfectant and an emergency bath. I can't give my other child the attention he deserves when I'm doing all of that. I can't split my body in half and be everything to both of them at the same time.

I've been accused of the worst kind of negligence by having Robbie after I knew what a challenge Tiffany was. I'm a bad mother who deserves to have her children taken away simply because my daughter has PDD and takes off her pants to shit on the floor and play in it when I put her to bed for the night. Even worse as a mother because I chose to have another child, because I had a micropreemie and didn't take good enough care of myself while pregnant. I'm damned no matter what I do, and my daily penance is scrubbing shit out of the carpet every night. Tonight it was twice. Twice, while my husband works late and my son has an upset tummy. After a day of running between the kids. Playing with them. Doing Robbie's therapy with him, reading to Tiffany, playing with them outside in the yard for a short while before the sun got too hot and the day got too dusty. We did craft projects. I fed them healthy food and got her to sit at her table for lunchtime. If I try hard enough, is it enough to convince the public watching on from the Internet that I love my kids enough to be allowed to mother them? Tiffany wanted to have water play this afternoon, and wants to do it herself, and pulled my teakettle off the stove. I heard it smash on the floor as the sides broke. I swear, it's not possible to keep my eyes glued to her twenty four hours a day. I get angry that I'm expected to in order to prove my fitness. I get furious that people blame me that she's not toilet-trained and that she will rarely if ever tell me what she wants or needs without a game of twenty questions and three minutes of trying to make eye contact.

Obviously I'm a rotten human being. My daughter plays in her shit. I can't stop her yet. It's not for not trying.

About a week ago I planted some seeds. I just tossed them into two planter boxes- half a packet in each box. Cover with soil, water well, and walk away. I haven't had much time to go out and see them lately, I have only made sure to water the boxes on the scheduled watering days.

Today I went out and saw a mass of green shoots poking up from the earth. So wonderful. So amazing. I've never had much luck with plants; my main skill is at killing them either by over-watering or under-watering. It takes my mother to have a real green thumb, to keep houseplants alive and thriving. My daughter seems to be inheriting a knack for it from what I see in the yard every morning.

It is a truly wonderful thing to see when I look out there. It feels like spring, come again, in the middle of a hot and dusty summer.

Procrastination should be a four-letter word. Nothing wastes time better, and nothing is as sure to get my guilt feelings dancing around that the house is a mess, the kitchen's messy, nothing got accomplished today. As I heard on FlyLady recently, it's time to get up off your franny and get busy.

Which leads to the other extreme if I'm not careful. Obsessiveness. Perseveration. The inability to let anything go. I can do it, though, if I stick to baby steps and make myself stop at the end of a certain time limit instead of a task. The laundry doesn't have to be done all in one step, as long as it gets all done one piece at a time. If I just put one piece away every time I pass the basket, the whole pile is away before I realize it. I've been doing the chore without noticing! Which keeps me from complaining, which makes me feel happier inside myself, which leads to ten other happy feelings and puts a smile on my face at the end of the day instead of a weary feeling as I survey the mess and make excuses to myself about why it didn't get done today.

I still procrastinate, though. I still carry over undesirable tasks from one day to the next because I don't want to do them. Sometimes it helps to write out the steps for those tasks ahead of time, so that I can just get everything in place to make that call or write that letter in a sudden rush. Sometimes I tell myself that no task can get carried over for more than three days. If it gets carried over that long, the temptation to drop it from the list altogether becomes too great and I conveniently “forget” that it's there.

I'm fighting the procrastination habit. I'm winning in slow steps over my daily chores and my messy house is starting to show the signs of improvement day by day. I think it can only benefit my kids to grow up in a can-do atmosphere instead of the clutter and the guilt-shadow in their mother's attitude. When I look in the mirror, do I see the person I'm afraid to become, or the person I want to be? And how can I become the person I want to be in a way that it'll stick?

The best thing that I've found for me, personally, in organizing myself is the simple list. I start with a piece of paper, I write down what I need to do in simple terms, and I cross it off as it gets done. I make the tasks simple, one or two step things. Then I don't get overwhelmed. Once I start getting overwhelmed, I want to sit down and avoid the list altogether. Can't do that if you want to get it done.

I've really fallen away from this in the past year. During the past week, I've started making daily lists again. Of course, I make them up the night before. I'm mentally focused at that point. The kids are in bed, the kitchen is clean, the coffee pot is set for the morning when my husband wakes up. I'm awake and can write down what needs to be done. If I wait until the morning, I don't always get things going. I might not have slept well, have woken up cranky. The kids might have gotten up extra early and needed me to roll out of bed and run from the second my feet hit the floor. If that's the case, my list is instantly in front of me and I can work from that as I'm waking up.

During this whole past week I've been tired. Not sleeping well, a lot to do, many things that came along without any warning (a shredded tire comes to mind). Yet in the evening hours I don't feel frazzled. I feel in control of my life. Mommy's happier, Daddy is happier as a result, the kids are less likely to act up. Nobody's feeling stressed. It will be interesting to see if this feeling keeps up, if I can continue making my lists before I go to bed every night, if this new calmness carries over into other aspects of my life.

Last night the easter bunny came to visit. I had just put the babies to bed, when I looked out the patio door and saw the largest white bunny I'd ever seen sitting in the middle of the yard. Two long white ears, enormous body, pink twitchy nose. I called to the Boy and he came over. We stood staring at this animal for a few minutes.

“That's the oddest thing we've ever had in our yard,” he says. I agree.
“Must be a pet.”

The things that go through your mind at such a moment. What do you do? Who do you call? Animal control? Given the inability to ensure this animal stays in the yard, and that you can't bring it inside the house, do you put up some flyers? We went around knocking on doors. It didn't help. Found out that it could be our neighbors, but that they weren't home, and no one was sure just when they'd be back.

I put out some water and lettuce. The bunny ate lettuce right from my hand. Very hungry, it seemed, and very tame. We'd check on him from time to time, and though he wandered around here and there he always came back up to the back wall of the house to lay in the shade against the cooler concrete.

When the neighbors got home I went out to greet them. It was their bunny. He went home to his own bed. I dreamed of white rabbits and easter baskets last night. This morning it's another week, another blessing, another new day that will be filled with all sorts of good things.

I'm sitting in the dark. The sun is set, the fading light on the horizon is all purple, almost orangey purple down on the treetops. It looks so soft, like I could reach my hand up and stroke the sunset, and although I know the features on the houses across the street I can only see the silouette. Black, against the velvet.

I am the last one awake. This is usual. My children are snug in bed, my husband turned in an hour ago. I might be up for the next three hours. Insomnia is haunting me again, and even though every night I'm doing my breathing exercises and relaxation I can't fall asleep. Eventually the body and brain just seem to shut off, only to snap awake again at the slightest sound in the house. I've been sleeping with the white noise from our fan for too long now because I can hear around it to the sounds of our house. I just can't figure it out. When I wake up in the morniing I feel as though I've never gone to bed.

It's a cycle, of course, and I'm used to this one. It won't be so bad. I'm making my preparations for tomorrow tonight before I lay down- the kitchen cleaned, house picked up, eating surfaces swiped with disinfectant. Lunch has been made. Breakfast is poured out and in the fridge waiting for sunrise. It's peaceful here.

The velvet sky is dimming even further. Now it's just all blue-purple. Time to tuck myself in and wait for whatever lays in tomorrow for me. Good night.

What are your plans for this year's Alzheimer's Walk? Whether you're going to do something personal, such as learn more about the complications and concerns of those affected by this disease, or whether you're going to show your support publicly by participating in one of the walks near you, the important thing is to remember.
Taking part in an Alzheimer's Memory Walk is easy. They are held all over the country, are generally two to three miles long, and serve to both raise funds and awareness of Alzheimer's. Be a team captain and organize your friends to come out. Share your stories and some fun on beautiful mornings; get exercise and help someone else at the same time. As long as one person remembers, it will not be forgotten.


Did you know that Alzheimer's is the 6th leading cause of death in this country? It's a sobering reality, and if you haven't already been touched by the life of someone coping with it, chances are you will be. We raise money and awareness for so many causes, and some of the time it's easy to feel burned out by it. Who can care so deeply about everything? Much of the time people pick and choose things to get passionate about. We'll wear our ribbons on our bumpers and show our support for just about everything. How about getting out of the car and showing your support in a more tangible way? Besides which, it's a great exercise for your body so you can stay healthier and keep everything working in the best shape possible.

A moderately busy week of doctor appointments and housework has come and gone. I can face the weekend happy in the knowledge that Tiffany's neurology testing came back normal. EEG, MRI, and all the bloodwork show normal. So the low tone must be due to "regular" preemie developmental issues. Do you know, there are a lot of things that we apparantly have to keep track of? I don't know half of them. I go to the pediatrician once a year for her, the doctor sends out for all these specialty referrals, believe me- it wasn't my idea to go to the pediatric neurologist. I believed the phsyical therapist last fall when he said that the low tone would be improved by regular active play at an age-appropriate level. I've done that. When I was unable to do it, my mom took her to the park and did it. We have stuff around the house that is wonderful for her, that she loves, and we chase each other over cushions and under tables giggling and tickling and rolling balls around. It's a great workout for me as well.

My Robbie is gaining weight, and he had a physical therapy evaluation this week as part of his EI services. They're making sure he hits his developmental milestones close to or on target, keeping an eye on any trouble spots that emerge and offering suggestions. Miss Julie was delighted with how well he does. All he needs is a little more head control when raising his head up and back, and he'll be crawling on all fours. We have to continue his daily exercises. Cool.

As for me, my glucose control is good. My doctor looked at the logs this morning and was very happy at how everything is coming along. I'm happy that she's happy, that my numbers are averaged at the normal marks, that the diet changes I've been able to make a permanent part of my life now are doing the trick. It's a good thing.

Tonight we will celebrate. Spinach salad, and ravioli with tomoto basil sauce, and fresh shaved cheeses, and a very large pitcher of ice water. Bring on the relaxing weekend.

This morning started before dawn and eased it's way into afternoon before I quite knew it. Between the standard chores (dishes, gathering laundry, picking up after the kids) the morning flew. I've been able to keep my meal/snack schedule on target for several days running. I've exercised at least a little bit every day for a week. Yesterday I took my hours "off duty" to go see a movie.

Last year around this time I was nuts. Six months ago I was a fruitcake. Let's be realistic- I've been certifiably nutso for at least that long, probably longer, and it seems to take me longer than the "normal" people to regain my socially acceptable behavior. This is why I can't participate in message boards with any real hope of suceeding either as a help to someone else or even as a conversationalist. This is why it took me until well into adulthood to be capable of making friends and interacting socially on a level that would not lead the ones around me to back away slowly and give me a wide bearth.

Still, there are times when the chaos around me settles down into a normal level again. There are times when I can be a normal wife, and a good mother. For what it's worth to the many people I've appalled on various forums, every last one of my kid's specialists and therapists have been happy with how I raise my kids. It may not be normal to people with children who were born on time with no developmental delays, but it is normal for us and we've learned to adapt the EI therapies into daily life to provide as normal an experience for the children as possible. Yeah, I'm a nutcase, but I'm a good parent who does her best. Aren't we all?

When the abnormal has been a part of your life longer than the normal, when what you consider normal is so far out of the mainstream that others consider you a walking freakshow, it makes a lot of sense to withdraw from the ones who don't want to understand. I underreact to some things, I overreact to others, and it's all based on the sum total of what my life has been. That's part of being human. I can't apologize for that. All I can do is try to frame my thoughts into words as best I can and continue blogging, because that's what blogging is supposed to be about as I understand it.

We've survived another week. Despite the teething, the hives, the crankiness of my daughter. Thought I'd share some of the ups- there are plenty of nasty and messy downs this weeks to dwell on, and I don't want to lose the good stuff. Robbie's had his first laughs. He laughs, now. Be still my heart; I thought my own heart would stop the first time I heard him laugh. It was that thrilling. Tiff has started using her words more and more. She followed directions most of hte time today; I was more than a piece of furniture. I was her mom. The Boy got done work at a decent hour tonight. He came home, had some beer, we had some relaxing family time before he went to bed and that was after the kids were both in bed for the night. How wonderful was that?

I am happy. Tired, obviously, but happy. I am worn out from a day of hormones and childminding, but I feel good about my life. It was a good day.

I can't believe that I still haven't gotten new glasses. I was meaning to. Then I had a baby. That was three years ago. And why have I still not gotten the new glasses? Comes down to the money, I think. My lenses are expensive enough, once you add frames on the bill I generally look at around $300 for a pair. Wouldn't be so bad, but I'm so nearsighted with a double astigmatism and the ultra featherweight light lenses (the nifty superthin ones they have available?) are a quarter inch thick in it's thickest place.

They were nearly half an inch thick, once. Before I was able to get the lightweight lenses.

ZenniOptical.com offers glasses at around $8 a pair for the frames. That's a wonderful deal; I bet I could afford a new pair sooner with that service. Zenni on Fox offers a look at whether this service is a good deal or not for others. Check it out!

A day of teething. Of allergy reactions. Of mommy crankiness. What can make this better? Knowing that the air conditioning in this house works. Knowing that the weekend is upon us, that Daddy comes home early tonight, that the allergy medication will help the hives all over my daughter AND ensure that she gets a decent amount of rest today and tomorrow, knowing that the baby motrin will help the teething issues of the son.

Unfortunately there still isn't a magic pill that will help me out of this. I can take the allergy meds for my own case of the sniffles. I can take the motrin for my own sore muscles and stiff shoulder (made all the more painful by the two little kids using me for their own personal gym). But neither of them is going to pop that completely away and make me suddenly stress-free today. Depressed? No, just PMS. Just another month of bizarre hormones and odd thoughts. I'm learning to channel that odd cycle into the silly-humourous paths instead of letting it get into the hysterical-batshit crazy paths. Much of what I've learned in handling my kids, strangely enough, is coming to be helpful in this.

Every mom knows that there is a point in their child's behavior when it can go one of two ways. Overtired can be channeled into giggly craziness, or it can go into tantrum-throwing exhaustion. Sometimes that point is a large moment wide, sometimes it's a split second. I'm learning where my point is. The good news? I'm an adult. I'm in control of myself, the behavior isn't in control of me. The bad news? I'm an adult. I don't have the luxury of irresponsibility.

Ah, well. Tough break. I'll get over it.

Stem cell research has been in the news off and on again for a while. In our case, it was more than a passing curiousity. Do I care about it? Sure I do. If my kids inherit the same form of cancer I had, one day, I want them to have more options than I faced. I don't want them to live with one kidney, I don't want to have to worry about transplants for them. If the cure can come from their own bodies one day, all the better. We've come a long way in the research and practical applications of stem cell research from the days when the lines all started and ended in test tubes of fetal tissue. Most of the controversy at that time, as I saw it, was in the methods used to obtain that tissue.

Right now the hot thing of the past few years has been cord blood banking. It's the In thing to bank your babies umbilical cord blood for the stem cells that are contained in it. But let's go another jump- can those cells be found in another place? This company believes so. They offer adult women the chance to get their own stem cells from another part of their reproductive system. And how wonderful would that be? I can see the whispers of the new few jumps beyond this technology, and it lays in miracles that were once only dreams in the heads of doctors and parents who ran out of time too soon.

CNNMoney has the story.

Press Release:

Taking Control: Future Therapies for a Host of Serious Diseases May Be Found in Women's Menstrual Blood

July 07, 2008: 01:28 PM EST


OLDSMAR, Fla., July 7 /PRNewswire-FirstCall/ -- With today’s hectic lifestyle, where most women are juggling careers, family, relationships, and a host of activities, the idea of possibly facing a serious illness in the future is not something that readily comes to mind -- especially when a woman is in the prime of her life. But what most women don’t know, is that the key to treating a number of possibly life-threatening diseases that she, a parent, a sibling or even her children may face in later years, such as osteoporosis, heart disease, stroke, Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s disease, may be found within her own body -- in vital stem cells, which can now be harvested from her own menstrual blood.

Now, thanks to the revolutionary research and technology of C’elle, a service dedicated to providing women with a safe and easy method of collecting and preserving stem cells found in her menstrual fluid each month, even the busiest woman can take control of her future, right in the privacy of her own home. With C’elle’s non-invasive collection process, menstrual cells are processed and cryo-preserved (stored at a very low temperature) for potential cellular therapies that may be used in the future. These self-renewing cells one day may even be used for sports medicine or cosmeceutical treatments, such as anti-aging therapies.

"C’elle enables and empowers a woman to take control of her future health, and possibly of those genetically closest to her, in a fast, painless and stress free way," said Michelle Kay, Marketing and Sales Manager for C’elle. "We live in exciting times, as science and technology are discovering how extremely valuable menstrual blood stem cells really are, and the enormous treatment potential they represent for future therapies. C’elle’s ongoing research is supporting these promising findings."

For more information about C’elle, please call 1-877-892-3553 or visit www.celle.com.

I took a week off to deal with the Blahs. Well, a week and a bit, I guess. How was the holiday weekend for you? Ours went very smoothly and calmly; apart from the baby teething (still) it's been a daily routine of playing, eating, medicating, playing more, random bathing, and sleeping.

The heat is awful. We're under a heat advisory, a serious one, because guess what- in the desert, in a drought, it's fricking HOT. The AC is being tempermental these days, but it's still churning out enough cool air to keep the house bearable. Which is nice. The bill from June arrived over the weekend and I was happy to find it falling within the average amount I expect in the summer months. Where I grew up, a 200ish electric bill is standard. That's still my emotional standard when it comes to such things. Less than that, I'm happy and not overly concerned. Above that, I choke. As in, heart in throat, choke.

So how do you continue to cook healthy meals in this heat without driving yourself nuts in the kitchen by throwing up even more heat? I've been doing a lot of microwaving and crockpot cooking. The stovetop stuff is done, as much as possible, using only one burner. I'm trying to forget the oven exists. Last night we had spaghetti- a few weeks back I made a huge pot of it; the big economy package of spaghetti and a ton of sauce filled the dutch oven. I put half in a container and froze it. Yesterday I pulled it out and found that when it defrosted the macaroni had absorbed all the nice sauce and got super happy. I added a bit more sauce and a bunch of parmesan and mozzarella, and microwaved bowls for everyone. And voila! I didn't have to cook over the stove at all, and we've got enough to serve leftover lunchs today, and then the stuff's out of our lives! You can be sure I'm going to do that again with another batch, now that I know how well it works.

All fear the mighty Fly Hunter Woman! Armed only with a fly stick, I hunt the common housefly and swat them down!

The other week I was able to pick up a box of those sticky fly ribbons. I uncoiled them partway, and hung them for a few days so that the glue would solidfy around the coils and make a stick-like thing. Today they were stiff enough not to collapse, and I had a sticky fly stick. Then I went hunting.

One of the drawbacks to living right here is the flies. Granted, it's nothing compared to what the folks on the dairies have to contend with. However, having the doors and windows open for a few hours in the morning is drawing the flies inside with a greater regularity. They come in and buzz around us and generally annoy the heck out of everyone for a few days until they die. Unfortunately, we open those doors and windows every morning for a few hours. There are new flies coming in all the time now. The only place I can hang the ribbons according to the directions are out of the way of the flies. If I hang them where the flies are, I would catch not only flies but the children. The glue stick, though, that is my new solution to the problem. When the babies were down for morning naps I took the stick and carefully moved it near the flies. It took some doing, but I did manage to get them. Five flies! They will bother me no more. And now that I know this theory works, I'm going to keep doing it. I foresee a less annoying week in my future.

Managing to eat according to my diabetes is becoming easier. The home-oriented life I get to lead right now; letting the Boy have the car all day, not having to run here and there and everywhere... it helps. I've got an easy breakfast menu in my routine, I've gotten the hang of making sure my lunch is nearly all protein. By keeping the breakfast in limits I can control the glucose reading. If I "pass" breakfast and lunch I can eat moderately safely at dinner and pass. For someone who hearts carbs the way I do, keeping them in check is very hard. I know it can be done, I'm working on ways to make the foods I can eat more palatable and yummy to me.

It doesn't help that I'm still fighting that fasting number. One suggestion that I've heard is that my overnight sugar might be bottoming out and then rebounding, giving me a floppy number. This explains why, when I pig out on a higher sugar item at bedtime my number gets closer to the target. Last night I tried to eat more, and got up when the Boy did this morning to check my glucose. And it was, in fact, pretty low. When I got up at the normal time the number was high again. Tonight I'm going to try to do it again and see what happens. What irritates me the most is that it's trial and error.

Seems to me, sometimes, that everything in my life is trial and error. One big science experiment. Will one thing work, or another? Everything I do turns into a lesson of how to/how not to do things. Eating a certain food brings my sugar up. Eating something else seems counterproductive but results in lower numbers. I learn that it's about the numbers, about eating and exercising how I have to in order to produce the right numbers at the right time. If the numbers are right my blood sugar is balanced and the diabetes is considered under control. If the numbers are not right I feel lousy and either vow to try harder or throw my hands up and binge on ice cream.

It's a wonderful feeling to see a child splashing her way through the wading pool first thing in the morning. We're under a smoke warning right now, which today means that nobody should be outside more than necessary. For my daughter, today, a small dose is necessary. She's become used to going outside for a few minutes every morning. Fresh air, exercise, the illusion of independence- mommy stays inside for the most part, keeping a watchful eye through the patio door, and the fenced in yard ensures her locational safety.

A side benefit is that I can make sure the back yard gets watered. I move the wading pool to a new section of yard in the morning, fill with water (not to the top, because there's a drought on), and on the watering days (every other) I dump the water and hose down the inside before filling again with a few inches of water. Whatever works.

Today she enjoyed her water play, her mud play, and then came in and put herself in the bathtub. All I had to do was fill it and help her peel off the wet clothes. She was able to wash herself, play a bit more, and drain the tub when done. She even hung up the drainplug so it would stay nice. Isn't that the best thing?

Still working on getting my stamina back. I don't know how. I do know that I need to do it so that I can keep up with the kids. I've been saying that for months if not years. So- focusing on basics. Drink water. Move my body every day. Breathe deep and let go of stress. Make healthier choices in the kitchen.

Monday already? Darn it all, where did the time go? It's another week, another fresh start to my life, and no better way to dig in than with a rousing game of tickle the toddler. Better than brunch in bed. I think. Anyway, that's what I did first thing, along with feeding the Babe and making a doctor appt. Do it early, when I have the ability to dial the phone and speak coherantly.

Over my life I've gone to extremes to clean. I've pushed the dirt under a rug to hide it, I've yanked appliances out of their places to scrub underneath them. Recently I lifted off the top of my gas range to really get in there and clean out the "Crap of Ages". Do you ever wonder what it looks like under there? It's not pretty. It's not just that the vacuum is heavy, or that my daughter's afraid of it, or that I hate vacuuming. It uses electricity. Electricity that could be better used running the AC during this hot, long, dry and dusty summer.

And yet there's just some things that can't be solved by the application of elbow grease. I have been enjoying the satisfaction of getting down and just washing my floors myself. Something about knowing for a fact that they're clean. But what do I do about the carpets that can't be self-scrubbed? How do I manage that?

The recommended standard for electric appliances is Energy Star . Look for the sticker on what you buy, and you'll be buying a device that doesn't suck up needless energy. Dirt Devil has just come out with a device that uses 70% less energy in a wireless device. No toddler coming along behind me, yanking the cord out of the wall! It charges faster, and seems to be easier to use. I have a Dirt Devil vacuum right now, and have never had a major problem with it (and believe me, the things I put this poor vacuum through, it deserves a day at the spa!).

I just posted my Cheeseburger Mac recipe over here. Here's the breakdown of what this meal cost us:

1 pound ground beef, $2
1 can peas, $0.49
1 box Macaroni and Cheese, $0.75

Total for the dish: $3.24

Given the normal portions, this serves about 6. Cost per person: $0.54

Isn't that a frugal meal? Yummy, too. I normally try to stretch the beef, using 3/4 pound of meat instead of a whole one, but tonight we all really had a craving for meat. Using that amount, the total for the dish is $2.74 and $0.46

Loving how those grocery dollars are stretching.

Last week at the dollar store I indulged a curiousity I had been having for a while. I bought a pedometer and started counting my steps. It's interesting to note that while I consider myself sedentary, my step count is actually in the 10,000 steps range. Somewhere I heard that this was a desirable number and although I've yet to do serious research beyond a simple Net search, I am going to try to keep that up. Maybe add some steps here and there. Since the device clips onto my waistband, I can forget it's there. It's not easily found by the Preschooler (big bonus) and it's a tangible way to see that I'm really doing something.

Fitness. Such a mythical, magical thing to me. It's been on the unattainable list for most of my life, and I keep saying that I want to get in better shape even though I've got little stamina and less strength to do it. Sometimes I'll overexert, and then I've got to take to bed for several days. Chasing these kids around has made me more aware. Do I want to become a mother that's always sick, or just a mother that has to conserve her strength and stamina for other things. I want to run with them to the park. I want to play with them, to someday take them to an amusement park and have the ability to more than walk from the parking lot to the front gate and hold their bags while they have fun on the rides.

Maybe the steps are a move in the right direction. Maybe they'll help in small ways to bring me closer to that day.

Robbie's finally sounding better on a consistant basis. The Preschooler is finally starting to interact with me again on the level she was before this cold knocked us all for a loop. I'm feeling like I can maybe make a worthy dent in the neverending cycle of housework.

Must be Thursday.

Once I came home with a can of spam on a thursday, and the Boy took one look at it and made a rude comment. I don't remember what it was, but it was to the effect of "I'm not eating that". And like most things that eventually get eaten, I cooked it up in a recipe I had laying around, and didn't mention to him that it was spam, and he ate it. Even gave me a compliment on the dish. I bring this up because that's on the menu again for us tonight. It's a sweet-n-sour type dish, with spam and pineapple and fried rice and I'm looking forward to it.

Spam's cheap. Relatively speaking. I can get a can for 1.89, and stretch it over two main meals. If you treat it gently some people can't tell the difference between this and canned ham (which I love using, and which has frequently gotten rave reviews from my family). I'm stretching the food dollar pretty far this month, and enjoying it (which is pretty nice, really) and waiting for the economy to ease up to the point that we can go out to eat again at a restaurant with a sit-down menu.

As my earlier post pointed out, I do love the ability to stay home and raise these two kids, handful though they be. I enjoy the sites that make it possible to do this. Paid blogging. Crafts from time to time. Other things, here and there, as I can get them. If this appeals, remember the two rules of this sort of thing: never pay for the opportunity to make money, and never do something that you're ashamed to tell other people about.

The ways I choose to balance the budget at the end of the month are changing again- every other month I sit down with the account books and the expenses and what I can do to affect them. It's not always an obvious choice. One thing I found that I need to do, as much for me as for the bank account, is to earn money while I'm caring for the house and kids. There are umpteen million ways out there to do this. Some are practical, some are less so, some are outright scams to get money out of my wallet and give little/nothing in return.

One way that I've found to succeed at this is paid blogging. As readers of this site will be aware, I've dabbled in this for about a year now. I started with PayPerPost, which is awesome. Recently I started working with the new site, SocialSpark. It's the next generation of PayPerPost, tweaked to provide better opportunities both for bloggers and advertisers and brought to you by the same creative genius. I like them because not only is the pay decent, but they don't want anything from you beyond your best efforts and creativity. Unlike other companies that promise a work-at-home income while sitting in your pajamas, this one doesn't want you to pay them. Not setup fees, not membership fees, not one of those places where you pay a fee for a product with the promise that you'll get that money back once you jump through their hoops. Nothing upfront.

What do they want? Primarily, a grasp of the english language. You need to have a blog, which can be done easily for free. You need to have that blog for a while; no setting it up just to do this stuff. It has to be a real blog, with real original content, 90 days old with no gap of greater than 30 days betwen posts. You need to add a small piece of code to that blog, and then wait for their team to manually approve your blog before you can start taking opportunities. That was the basic standards for PayPerPost, and SocialSpark has added several tidbits that make their new platform even better.

One of them is full in-post disclosure. Paid posts are clearly known as such. No trying to guess whether or not you've been compensated for this item, whether or not your view might be skewed by the thought of a payment behind the scenes. There is 100% transparency; if you go to the site you can see what bloggers took which opportunity, how much they get paid for promoting the product or service, who paid for that opportunity in the first place. There are 100% real opinions. No more taking a half-relevant topic or even a completely off-base topic to what your blog is really about. This makes it more relevant to your readers, easier to write about, it makes me as a poster happier about accepting money for the post and less like I have to slink around feeling ashamed. As my mother once told me, if you feel ashamed for doing something, you're likely doing it for the wrong reasons and shouldn't be doing it at all.

Social Spark is also search-engine friendly. Have you been concerned that your google rank is being affected or could be affected by doing paid posting? There are a lot of strongly held opinions on this. The opportunities offered are all in compliance with the no-follow rules. Personally, I'm not sure how that works, and I don't care enough to keep track of what the current thinking on it is today. But I know that there are plenty of people who do, and this is a good thing for them.

Note to self: Always, always, check the diaper bag for bottles. Even when you think you've already done so. I just discovered the remnants of a bottle from the weekend. I'm debating whether or not I should just throw the sucker out and not have to deal with it.

I'm cheap, but this may have crossed the threshold of what I consider Too Much Ick to deal with.

I've been hearing all sorts of wonderful things about one of the blankies I had made for Robbie- I didn't think it was anything special, really, just something I had thrown together because I thought that it would be fun to make up and it was a useful texture. It's just a plain tube of straight knitting- nothing fancy. Just one smooth expense of plain handknitting, all the way around, thick without being too thick and smooth to the touch. No holes for little hands to get stuck in. Durable, plain, useful. Easy to throw into the stroller or the car, easy to throw over the sleeping baby when you need a stretchy hug.

So I'm going to make another one, white, and put it over in the etsy shop. Maybe it'll find a home. All I know is that the pediatrician's office is full of new moms who threaten to steal the one we have. And that I can never get done washing it because it's become the favorite one for clinging to, despite the umpteen other blankets in the linen cupboard.

Incidentally, I stand corrected about the price of gas. Last night on the way home from the emergency room I paid $4.59 for regular. The pop you may have heard was the sound of my brain imploding.

Does anyone, anywhere, know the proper laundering method for Desitin in clothing? My daughter helped herself to about two-thirds of a tube. While warm soapy water and a lot of scrubbing got it off her hands, hair, face, body, and tongue- I'm drawing a blank as to what to do about the clothes she was wearing.

I keep hearing worse things about the economy, and they're coupled with the evidence of my own eyes. It's expensive. It's getting worse. No one knows or will hazard a guess as to when it will get better. Last year this community seemed to hold out hope that next year, this year, would see an improvement. That was before the drought did not ease. That was before worsening water restrictions and tougher penalties. That was before gas prices hit $4.50 in this town, in a town where you have to drive to get anywhere. It is vaguely possible to get around without one, but if you have any sort of special circumstance or an emergency, what will you do?

The efforts I've made here to cut the electric use in the past month have paid off. I can see it on the bill; yeah, I was holding my breath when it came, wondering if it really did any good to turn all the lights out at night, whether or not it was doing good to keep my own body on the sun's schedule instead of some self-imposed version of what I "should" be calling a bedtime. Since the kids typically get up at dawn every day and are down by sunset, I can easily get myself to follow their lead. Going to bed early has made all those early mornings easier. Hanging out the laundry helps. Even though we ran the AC a lot this month, even though there was a stretch of about a week in which I could barely stand to turn it off, the electric bill was manageable. This, I can cope with. It's a reaffirmation that I'm making a difference. I'm doing something to make a real impact on our budget instead of just spending money.

Do you ever feel, as a housewife, that all you do is spend money? Grocery money. Diaper money. The kids need new shoes. Those work-from-home schemes look better and better as time goes by and dollars slip through your fingers. So I have a little etsy shop, and have ads on this site (hint, hint), and do paid blogging when I can. I'm saving money on the budget, and counting my blessings that the kids are growing so slowly (on the small end, as preemies) that they get full use of their clothes. The Preschooler just now needed new sneakers- she's been in the same pair for about a year now. She also just now needed new clothes- a wardrobe full. Which she will be wearing until she wears them out, since her body type is so petite.

I think the most important thing to do to get through this summer is to keep an eye on my blessings. They keep me happy, keep me feeling positive, and if I've got a good attitude it's easier to keep from falling into a slump of overwhelmed despair at how much we can't do. Our household is running on cash, not credit. We're barely in the black, but we're not sinking further and further into debt. That's something. We've got two beautiful children, and my Boy has a steady job with health insurance, and there's a roof over our head that doesn't leak.

I don't think I need much more than that.

This past week has seen a lot of my newly started routines around the house sputter. They didn't get done; I managed to scrape by with the bare minimum happening. Dishes, clean counters, and trash taken out daily. The rest of the house- laundry piled in clean drifts in the laundry room waiting for me to fold and put away. The toys lay where they fell at the end of the day. The children were fed and dressed in clean clothes and not much beyond the daily playtime happened.

This can change. Today I made the choice to stay home rather than get everyone up way too early, and we slept in. I was too exhausted to move. The children were worn out from the past couple of days. We all needed to sleep. And now I'm plowing through the day, five minutes at a time. Dishes are put away. Dirty ones are going to live in a pan of hot soapy water. The weeds in the front yard that poke up in tall clumps every few feet are being trimmed down. Yes, I'm using a pair of scissors and cutting the grass. It's not as strange as it sounds. The majority of the yard is still low-growing and very trim, it's just those clumps that stick way up and make the whole thing look so untidy. Much cheaper to chop them off then to pay the lawn service $30 to come and mow this week. Let them come back when we have something to do that's worth the fee.

Right now, today, I'm getting things done. Feeling positive. I can do this.

When I get super fatigued, as I was earlier today, there inevitably comes a point when I pass by myself in the bathroom mirror and stop. Who am I, I ask. Why am I?

The answer comes back the same these days, if I'm honest with myself. If you can't be honest with your own reflection you should probably seek professional help. Who am I? I am a survivor who kept alive and whole through emotional and mental storms. I came through cancer, through abuse, through despair so black that I thought I would be swallowed up by it. I came through the learning of myself. I can tell the difference between brutal honesty and self-hatred when I examine my character flaws. I am a melodramatic-prone storyteller who learned to put those things aside and be a supportive wife capable of sucking up and coping with reality when it comes to the wire, so that my husband can worry only about his military career and our children- not whether or not I'll fall apart and be useless in caring for those children who will not understand for many years (if ever) why Daddy has to go away sometimes. Sometimes for very long times. I am also a mother. If I didn't care, I would be less tired, and not as good a mother.

This evening I saw paperwork coming through with the official results from the preschooler's psych evaluation. She's "officially" autistic. Although she was so non-cooperative with the official IQ testing as to present below-normal, the shrink says that it's definitely not an accurate assessment of intelligence and the likelihood (she told me privately, not on the report) is that she's really fairly bright. Which presents it's own set of challenges for me. Between the medical and the developmental, and where is the line between those two because I sure can't find it, I read that report and say to myself, "no wonder I'm so tired". I saw the mother of another child in the preschool program dealing with her mobile younger child and the autistic student. She looked every inch of what I felt as her son was displaying tantrum behavior and trying to do his own thing. Grim, non-humorous. Just trying to get the child safely from one point to another, to go about the business of daily living without losing her sanity or temper. I guess she learned what I learned; losing our tempers doesn't do any good. Being impatient doesn't do any good. If the child sees us upset they get more upset. We lock down the negative side of things, and with that in mind it's kinda amazing that the positive side doesn't get atrophied as well.

But that's the thing- those positive things, the smiles and laughs and moments when the child is biddable and sweet. Those moments we appreciate like gold and treasure those moments deeply because they are so rare and fragile. Don't let them go, whatever we do, because we'll need those memories to get through the next twenty years.

One set of papers I have gotten over the past couple of weeks says why we need "x" hours of respite care per month on the preschooler. It's because that she, though not mentally retarded, requires the same level of supervision on every level. I've learned to be hyper alert when it comes to her mental swings. Hyper alert, but relaxed all at the same time- sounds contradictory but it's not in practice. I know where she is almost all the time and what she's doing. I know the not-sounds of her getting into mischief. I know she's bright enough to be horribly frustrated at her body's lack of cooperation with speech and language. Her body won't cooperate, she feels like it's failed her although she doesn't know how to frame that coherently yet. I know the feeling. My body has been failing me for years.

I remind myself that it really hasn't, though. It successfully produced two living offspring. For someone who was told that she would never even conceive these children, that's a miracle. I'm all about the miracles.

I sit here wondering what else we can cut out of our budget; how economizing becomes second nature to a housewife who wants and needs to remain a housewife. It's an odd trip at times. Scarily unreal. I chase my husband around the house every day turning out lights, and our sleeping habits are returning to the daylight cycle (aided by a preschooler who wants to be up at dawn and has exhausted me by the sunset). It's a good thing, I tell myself. I dream of the old days when the Boy and I went out to IHOP on a whim, when we thought nothing of bringing home new books every weekend and renting movies to watch while hanging out at home.

We're still hanging out at home, but we're watching cable ondemand instead of renting movies. We stick with digital cable- the free offerings ondemand are just as good as renting stuff. If we rent, it's netflix to provide us with whatever we need. We cut back on eating out which isn't that steep a cut because we've been eating in since the Preschooler was born. On the rare times that I get to the Net these past days I've been looking up ways to cut back even further- things I may not have thought of just yet but which may mean I can squeeze a few more pennies out of the change purse.

It's easy to feel paralyzed and helpless in this economy. Especially when you've been living on the edge of check to check for a while already. I fight a double battle. There's the drain of my children. A drain I accept and embrace, don't get me wrong, but the constant supervision takes an effort. When she's sleeping I want to crawl into bed and hide. When she's under someone else's supervision, I want to crawl into bed and hide and sleep. There's also the new baby, the new preemie in my life who is struggling with feeds and weight gain. I've begun to have nightmares about the what-if's. The scenario of him developing the same problems that his sister does. The thought that I'll be coping with two children who need constant supervision until what... forever? My daughter started preschool and I rejoiced that she was someone else's problem for three hours a day, four days a week. Then I beat myself up over thinking that, when she makes me so happy the rest of the time. Then there's the guilt that the rest of the house has gone to ruin because I either spend my time supervising the kids or wanting to hide in bed.

Either way I end up feeling overwhelmed and hiding. Wanting to hide. Feeling worn out and used up. Would saving a couple more pennies help that? Or would I then turn and take them as a symbol of my worth? I don't know. What do you think?

Whether you're in law enforcement or a military buff, why spend more money than necessary on gear? Check out great bargains on a tactical belt, flashlights, and vests. Wear comfortable clothes that come from the same specifications approved for use in police stations and firehouses. Suited for camping and hiking these are hard-wearing and made to last. Don't forget the great deals in store this Memorial Day.

The price of gas is getting too high, I think we can all agree on that. This morning I paid $3.94 a gallon to fill the tank. That was onbase, where the price of gas is cheaper. If it goes much higher we're going to have to cut back on every single non-essential trip out of the house. I don't know how we're going to juggle things if this continues for a long time.

At that, we're still more fortunate than a lot of others around here. People are starting to choose between gas, food, and medicine. A friend of mine is eligible for a food box every month, but it doesn't take into consideration that she's diabetic and unable to eat 75% of what they give her. We swap- she knows that we're struggling sometimes, and so she passes on the box to us. In return I make her takeout trays of stuff. Extra casserole, extra bread, handknit wool socks. We are fortunate.

Meat is expensive here. Produce isn't. Which makes it easier to try and eat healthy for me and my family. Milk would be rationed out carefully if not for WIC, which we requalified for in order to afford Robbie's formula. Which is even pricier.

Where is it going to end? Where will the prices ease up? I'm going to have to start thinking again of all the little ways to economize and save money. It will be interesting to see how the bottom line comes out. I read an article today that estimates that most households spend double what a meal actually costs by eating out. Takeout, fast food, convenience meals all add up. I'm going to start making large batches of things and freezing them again. With the heat around here in the summer, this will not only make my life a little easier but help stretch the food dollar. How much easier is it to defrost a meal or two in the morning and reheat it? The major cleanup only once a week? Run the microwave instead of the oven? Cut the energy bill, cut the grocery bill. Cut so many things. It's worth it.

More challenges lay ahead for us. The Preschooler's tantrums grow slightly worse this week, with the addition of her first anxiety attack- at least, that's what it seemed like to me. If she could use more of her words I'd know more, but the fact that she could use any words in the middle of it tells me that she's making progress.

The fact remains clear though that as she gets older it becomes more and more obvious to others that she's not quite in sync with the rest of us. She's in her own space most of the time. Still doesn't like to make eye contact- but when she does she's all there and her smile lights her face and my heart. The tantrums are starting to get more age appropriate and although I know they could be so much worse it doesn't always help. Mothers don't like to see their kids tantrum. All the knowledge in the world about how best to handle it and how little it'll matter in ten years time does not help when it's your baby crying at your feet and throwing herself on the ground. It does not help when they thrash around so violently you're afraid they'll hurt themselves, and the only thing you can think of to help is to throw your own body between them and the walls. Please note: this does not happen often. Maybe once in a blue moon. Only twice since the start of this year, and rarely before that, and it does seem that she's outgrown that level of tantrum. However. The memory tends to linger in my mind because she's my baby. The two and a half pound infant that I nursed from NICU to Preschool, who I sat up with night after night and through reflux, colic, and sensory overstimulation. She's a big girl now, and I'm still the same on the outside but forever changed indefinably by the experience.

I think that last sentence pretty much sums up everything I needed to say today. Let's leave it at that.

There is a reason why I should never blog under the influence of drugs and depression. It leads to wierd things like last night's rantings. Let me recap into "sane" for you all.

I was tired. I took an ambien to help me fall asleep during a nice long lazy afternoon nap. I did not sleep. I sort of slept, then staggered around drunk-ish the rest of the night. I remember when it wore off (sorta) cleaning the kitchen. Nothing beyond that.

And so I begin a brand new week, still feeling as though both my personal life and my house have escaped my control. My solution? Baby steps, as thought up by FlyLady and her system. I've talked about it before, how it's slowly changing my life. Well, it can work again. Baby steps. Put away five things here, five things there. Every time I pass the dishwasher I put away another handful of things. I've tossed stuff into the laundry basket in the living room, and every commercial break I put away five more things. Given that I still have an ambien hangover this morning, I'm not moving that fast or easily. I have faith, though, that by the time lunch time rolls around I will have accomplished something decent.

I dropped my marbles today in an utterly stupid way, one in which I was fearing would happen at some point down the road. I thought I would be in control of it- isn't that what every borderline addictive personality says when they're this close to screwing up everything that they've worked for with one seemingly "fine" idea?

I still don't know the whole extent of what I've done, that will wait until tommorrow when I stop seeing double and when the Boy tells me what happened this afternoon. But suddenly between one breath and the next the kids are all asleep in bed and he's telling me to go sleep it off and drink plenty of water.

I've scared him. I've screwed up. I still don't know what happened beyond that original thought that seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Can I just say a great big "ditto" for the past three posts? It seems that I've run out of new and whitty things to say lately; the kids are about the same, the chores are still at the same point of undoneness, and the laundry continues to never quite be all done.

Today the clothesline broke under the weight of our laundry. My fault, likely, for overloading a slightly wobbly line. So now I have to bite the bullet and go out for a new drying rack- because we're seriously cutting back on the electric costs here this summer in an effort to reduce the bills. Because the AC is a necessity in this family, and I'm just now recovering from the shock of last summer's bills, and today the temperature is breaking the triple-digit mark for the first time (with no plans on cooling back to 99 until a few days into next week). Viva la desert. Who knew that a desert could experience drought? I certainly never really understood that concept until last year, when everything turned brown and crunchy and we went under a very tight water rationing type of system. Not that it affected us much- our lawn still died because we didn't water it, because there was just so much else going on.

Cutting back electric means cutting back on a lot of conveniences that one takes for granted after a while. Dishes by hand. Hanging out laundry instead of using the dryer. Turning off appliances. Conserving. It's nothing that a lot of people are doing all over the place this year. It's going to be good for us, good for the community, good for my kids to grow up knowing that this sort of lifestyle is fully possible. That we don't have to live totally plugged in to the grid with every appliance running 24/7.

My living room is a wreck, but the laundry is done and the dishes are being washed in the dishwasher; a constant swishing hum in the background. My babies are sleeping. My Boy is tucked up in bed, snoring away. I'm sitting down with my quilting, and watching tv, and feeling totally relaxed and happy with life.

Isn't it amazing how your attitude can run the entire day? There were so many points in my day that could have been different if I had let anxiety and pressure get to me. Instead we all enjoyed a relaxing Saturday. There was laughter and giggles and lots of hugs with my babies. There was a sense of loving partnership with my Boy. There was so much quiet joy.

It restores something deep inside of me. Something I've missed for a long time. Something wonderfully stretched to the point of fullness right now; because it's all full up. I'm full up of love and happiness. What a wonderful change from anxiety, hard long nights of cranky children, longer nights of no sleep and chronic worry.

This week, like the previous weeks, has flown past in a whirl of daily grind. My daughter went to school, my son didn't, both were cared for and fed every day. He went to the doctor. I juggled transportation issues with the Boy and got everyone where they needed to be everyday.

Plus we got the economic stimulus payment this morning. A good thing. We were strapped financially, as we are every time the middle of the payperiod comes around, between paying bills and putting gas in the car and feeding the family- money is tight. Tighter than ever. I'm trying to economize where I can, but there are a few luxuries we'd like to have around. One of them is, as always, non-negotiable. Funny thing to say, isn't it? Non-negotiable luxury. But a person can only pinch things so far. If we don't have something to splurge on every so many weeks, we both go crazy and overspend the budget to a horrible overdraft in the bank account. I hate that. Hate it a lot.

And the house is a mess. Have I mentioned this? In the process of taking care of the rest of the stuff, the house is a mess. Laundry is washed and dried one day, and put away three days later after the wrinkles have set in. I don't do ironing. Unless I have to. So far, I haven't had to- the Boy irons his own uniforms, and the kids are wash'n'wear. Who cares what I'm wearing? Today it's t-shirt and shorts, a standard Mom uniform of summer. If I'm going out in the afternoon, it becomes a tank top and shorts. Clean means that I change my shirt three or four times in a day. I have a lot of shirts. Maybe this is why my daughter likes to change her outfit several times- she may think that everyone does it this way because she's seen her own mom doing it constantly since she was born and brought the first refluxy baby into my life.

In a way it's been a too-long day. I got some things done. I didn't get others done until after dinner, when my body's running on empty as far as energy levels and the rest of me is vaguely wired. I've been watching my diet a lot this past week; in the past three weeks I've been attempting to stick closely to the gestational diabetes guidelines that I went to class for- those numbers and guidelines can bring me almost within standards. It's the rest of the time I worry about... My fasting sugar is still too high. It throws off breakfast and mostly lunch. If lunch is too high, I might as well give up on dinner altogether because it's never been below a 190 no matter how few carbs I eat. This leads me to believe that it's back on the insulin when I do see the doctor next week. I can cope with that.

The preschooler uses more and more words. She finally had a meeting with the regional psychologist and has officially been given the title of PDD-NOS. Essentially, borderline autism. It's not quite autism but it's in that field. It is the diagnosis that I was fairly sure fit her. Knowing that she's finally got this condition makes me rest easier. Feel less like a rotten mother for feeling out of my depth when I tell people that she needs constant supervision- that I can't just assume that she'll follow the house rules or even common sense guidelines for safety. It's a hard thing. It wears me out emotionally and mentally, even though physically I'm doing better lately than I've been in ages. She's enjoying her preschool program immensely. I couldn't ask for a better placement for her than this.

And as for the Robbie, he continues to gain weight and thrive. Slow going, almost painfully slow. He gains weight at about half the rate the doctor wants to see. In the past two weeks he's been gaining 14gm a day, which is not quite what we'd like (20-40 is the norm). Still, he hasn't lost weight at all, which is the important thing.

We just keep on, keeping on. What's new in your life?

Today the Preschooler turned Three. A big number. She transitioned out of the infant/toddler early intervention program she was in and we had all sorts of evaluations and meetings to figure out how her needs would be best served now. It's not an easy answer, really. Part of her personality she came by honestly- the double dose of what we lovingly call “stubborn”. In other words, you can't get her to do anything. If she knows that it's part of a test or someone else's program, she will refuse to do anything and block it out of her acknowledgment completely. If you can come at her sideways with a task, get her involved into thinking that it's all her own idea, she will constantly amaze you with the ability that's going on behind her wide blue eyes.

She turned three and the program lets her attend until the end of hte month, but since it's the end of her month there's no real difference in it. Fortunately her needs have led the district to offer us a placement in the special needs school; they have a really good preschool program that's a fit for her needs and what can be done. Today she turned three and I dressed her up to go over and do the formal enrollment. Since the shot records were in place and the other paperwork was all done, she can start tomorrow. I'm so ready.

I'm also so NOT ready. This isn't like the other program where I had to remain on the premises. This is a school where I will drop her off at 8 and pick her up at 11. It was only yesterday that she was my preemie, so fragile and tiny in my arms.

I'm missing my mom already. Here we are in the first weekday after she's gone home, and I miss her. I miss getting the kids up without her, I miss seeing her drink her tea at the table as she coordinates her breakfast and morning vitamins, planning the day's errands, chores, and activities.

It is a blessing that she has merely gone back home to the other side of the country. I can still call her on the phone, I can email her any time of the night or day. I can write her letters and hear her voice. She's not Gone, just located somewhere else. In the past year I've gone through a lot of changes, and she was an ever present commodity in my life- much as she was when I was my daughter's age. Those early memories blended so well with this past routine, as long as my mom drank her tea, sat down at the table to make her list for the day, nothing could really go wrong. Everything was still in the place it belonged. No matter the challenges, the tantrums thrown by small children, the tightness of our wallets, it was all alright.

Now I'm the anchor again. I'm the one that my daughter and son will be looking to for creating those morning memories. As long as mommy does certain things every day in the morning, it's all alright. Everything works out. We all remain happy and well-adjusted.

A heavy responsibility, but it lays lightly on my shoulders. All I have to do is be half the woman and mother that my own is. She tells me that I'm up to the task. I hope she's right.

It is nice to know that the niche markets are still going strong in these days of uncertainty. There are online vendors able to fill any needs, and it can often be easier to get bargains from them than from traditional brick and mortar stores- especially when what you're shopping for isn't readily available at the local 5 and 10. For law enforcement agencies that need to consider needs such as BDU pants, LA Police Gear is a good place to visit. For those of you whose personal tastes also run towards this sort of thing- for camping, hiking, and outdoor activities, it's also great.

I think this week we're seeing the last "gasp" of the terrible twos. They weren't all that terrible, really, this past year. Not compared to some of the tantrums I witnessed other kids having- the kind that makes any mother raise an eyebrow, take a breath of relief, and thank God that those aren't HER kids and that she can walk away. My Preschooler has gone to bed for the night now, it's been a whole day of extremes from behaved child all the way to screaming tantrums while walking with the tricycle. Those resulted in her being bodily carried over my shoulder like a potato sack all the way home. Kicking and screaming the whole way. On the bright side, I've now done the cardio portion of my day. Definitely. No one can claim that this experience did not give me an intense workout.

We're all working on my diet this week. Not just for my sake; the Boy is once again approaching his mandatory weight checks and physical fitness testing. He's got to lose the handful of pounds that has crept back on since the last time. Since he wants to drop carbs and add veggies, and since I've got to drop most of my carbs and add serious veggies, and since we live in a place where they're just so gosh-darn cheap, I've been expanding the recipe books one more time. This time I've even started making some progress in it.

For one thing, who knew that me, who hates spinach with a passion, would like fresh baby spinach when it's stir-fried with pulled pork and fresh cut corn in a sesame-ginger sauce? I had seconds and thirds of that, and my glucose came in at a nice number. If anyone wants the recipe, request and I'll post it. Tonight's dinner was a variation on Quiche Lorraine, carb-light and made my glucose even happier. Lots of freshness, and it tasted yummy, and it was done in about 30minutes.

Recently I was asked to participate in a survey of parents who've had babies in the NICU. Most of the questions were those that I anticipated would be asked. One struck me as unique- it's not a situation unique to the NICU, and I know it's felt by everybody whether or not they're parents. The question is “When do you feel the most out of/in control of your situation?”

That's a hard one to answer. I've always been a control freak. I need to feel in control of things. When I feel like I lose control of things, noticeably my house and kids, then I start to lose my marbles. Some days it feels like a very short trip.

And of course I know that I can't control my kids. That's the reality of kids. They're not controllable. They're led, teachable, they're even sometimes biddable. But not controllable. I make my peace with knowing that I have almost no control over them some days. -Discipline is one thing, following rules is enforced, but controlling whether or not the Toddler eats her meal? Whether or not she accepts the rules with grace or needs several time outs in her room? That's what I mean by not controllable.

I feel out of control a lot. I feel in control more. When I am losing my marbles, I pray. My back-brain starts repeating that one word over and over, my constant prayer for the strength to get through this life. Serenity. Serenity.

I feel so old.

Just when I think that juggling the kids is getting easier, or when I have a workable system in place, everything goes belly up for a few more days and all my good intentions of blogging and checking blogs and keeping in touch with the world outside of this household has gone. I am pleased to report, however, that we have yet to end up on the news. The baby has avoided a rehospitalization, he has been weaned successfully off the NG tube and now takes all his food by bottle, and the Toddler is still enjoying every interaction with her little brother- despite his continued refusal of sharing her lunch and snacks.

The funniest thing... she tried to feed him a corn dog. He was hungry, she recognized it, popped her corn dog into his mouth and when he stopped crying for a moment in shock at this concept she giggled and danced away. Proud of herself for helping. For sharing. I applaud her willingness to do these things even as I shake my head at the logic that led her to it.

In a few short weeks (less than a pay period- yikes!) my mom returns to the east coast. I lose my backup during the days. Let's face it; apart from the weekends I lose my backup pretty much entirely. The Boy is willing to help as much as he can, but he's working long hours with wierd people and I know he's dragging so much at the end of the day. It's sometimes all he can do to stay awake until 7 at night before he's asleep. On the other hand, he does get up at the early morning feeds so that I can get uninterrupted sleep. This is why I love the man.

Let's see, what's kept me away from all but the basic email checks this week?

That's right! The family! The latest set of settling in pains that swept through us as we adjusted to life with two small kids and a full schedule of doctors and education specialists. I find myself envious of families who don't have to run their kids and themselves to doctors every week starting at this age. Don't they normally get a year or two "off" to learn how to adjust to having the infant? But for all of that I really can't say as I am having the troubles now that I had the first time through this phase of parenthood. I'm just learning how to survive, again, on fragments of sleep snatched here and there.

I'm doing well at it, as witnessed by the fact that I haven't given up all my leisure activities. I'm still carving time out of the day to sit and read, to make sure the kitchen stays tidy, time to play with my kids and really experience the joy that comes with all that sleep deprivation and screaming. We're weaning the infant off his NG tube and all the way to bottle-feeds. He's now taken everything by mouth for five days. He hasn't lost any weight, although his gain has been minimal. More importantly, we're managing his reflux and his feeding issue without losing our minds completely or pushing the Toddler off to the side the whole time. Making sure she gets equal time in the day is hard, but that's a priority for us and we'll make it happen somehow.

Getting used to things. Again. Moving from parent of one to parent of two is endlessly new, endlessly fascinating, endlessly sleep-deprived.

The events of my last post have passed, as I knew they would. Did it have to be three loads of laundry later, though? I go into this half-awake world of acceptance, where it doesn't matter how many shirts I have to change into. It doesn't matter that I've given up redressing the infant with the food-retention challenge. Infant is snuggled and swaddled in an endless stream of clean flannel blankets and warm clean towels. A pile builds in the corner of stained and slimy t-shirts, interspersed every four layers with another skirt or pair of pants that failed to escape the drama.

His tiny lordship is feeling better now, curled on my lap and looking up at me with the biggest blue eyes I've seen since his sister was this size. He is taking more by mouth, has pulled out his NG tube again, and I'm reluctant to put it back in place until I absolutely have to. Some of that is due to not wanting to put him and me through that procedure, of course. Most of it is purely selfish.

You see, I've come to adore gazing at his little face when it's not obstructed by tape and tubes. Absolutely adore it.

Besides which, he's supposed to be pushed gently towards all feeds by mouth. So we can ditch the tube forever.

Despite a beautiful dinner laid on by my mother, today ends in ruins, with tears and vomitting. With highly distraught children, screaming. With the Boy being concerned that his stitches just popped during the last cleanup. With me searching out the website for the hospital to just make sure that the urgent care clinic is open 24/7. With setting down the criteria that will be met before I take my second child to that clinic.

Not the way you want to start a week. Not the way to end a sunday.

Instead of an early, peaceful bedtime, I'm running two more loads of laundry, staring at a sink of dirty dishes, and praying that it will go better tomorrow. That there will be nothing but calmness tonight.

Because lord help us all if it's more of what we just did.

Parenting a preemie. So fragile at times. So precious. While babies are really hardier than a lot of new first-time moms want to trust in, I've heard it gets easier the second time around. The kid won't be harmed if you have to let them cry for a minute while dealing with the firstborn child, who is so clingy sometimes that they feel the need to sit in the exact spot their younger sibling is sitting in.

Among things I thought I wouldn't be saying for a while- Please don't sit on your little brother. You'll squash him like a bug.

Yet for all of that it's amazing how the experience of the first is coming back to guide me. It only took once of the old feed? reflux? fuss? quandary to remind us of the signs. Don't feed this kid more than a teaspoon or so right now, because he's going to puke. If you let him eat too much too quick, he will, and it's better to let that ickiness come up and out rather than fight it every feeding until it's passed through his system. We're not forcing the kid to eat the full feed every time. That leads to spitups, and other things, and makes everyone more stressed. Is it not easier to be laid back? To let it come in it's own time. The kid uses less of his calories snacking in a relaxed fashion than actively fighting the nipple for over half an hour. Not to mention that if he's relaxed and munching there's less spitup.

The sun has barely set. I'm going to bed now. Exhausted and tired and so are the kids.

I have washed the syringes, the tiny bottles, the child has been rocked and sung to and soothed and tucked into bed. Tomorrow is another day, today is now mostly forgotten.

Moving his feeds up to take more from the bottle. I try to meet every challenge as it comes, but how to take a full time out from everything else to spend an hour of every three feeding him? We tube more than we want to, we make an effort to make things happen in a good manner.

I'm wondering how the next week will play out. Granted, these are early days yet. It's hard to say for sure what's going to happen in a week when we're all really in the swing of things. I want to say as well that so far I'm getting more sleep with this kid than I thought I would.

Life as a parent of two preemies with eating issues. Hmm. I should have checked my sanity in at the door a long time ago, at least that way I'd have a claim ticket for it.

How is a baby like an oyster? If the baby in question is one of mine, they spend a lot of time in a shell before joining the party. Also: the actual product may be slimier than it first appears.

I mean that in a good way, of course. Really, I do. Oysters are yummy, and my babies are cute even when they are unexpectedly covered in spit-up first thing in the morning. One of the fonder memories from childhood is smelling a pot of my mom's oyster stew simmering on the stove. We loved it and wished the pot would last longer- there was seldom any point in putting it away at night because we would eat bowl after bowl of the stuff, licking spoons and running a finger along the inside of the bowl in an effort to get every last drop.

One thing that turns many people off oysters is the fear of what is kindly termed "food poisoning". That phrase covers a lot of ground, including the Vibrio vulnificus infection which is what someone at risk can contract from raw or improperly prepared oysters. Really, though, if you are not at risk there is very little chance that you'll get sick. That's why you don't need to fear eating Gulf oysters anymore. Dig out those recipes and before you know it you too can be enjoying this tasty treat. As with so many other feared foods these days there's a website set up to reassure you- BeOysterAware is a great source for both recipes and facts about just who is at high-risk for the virus, the symptoms, how and when to seek a doctor's help, and how to avoid the nasties while still enjoying oysters.

We are a family.

My mom is pictured wearing a mask because she was having a very sore throat with cough and had a fever last night. Maybe she's over-reacting, but this kid just got home from three and a half months in NICU. I'm okay with a little over-reacting right now.

The Toddler adores Robbie. A brother! Of her own! A baby! And he has feet, and a head, and a tube that comes out his nose that seems just perfect for yanking on!

Me? I spent an entire work day at the hospital getting things together and signed off on. Left the house before 0700. Left the hospital at 1630. Okay, so that's not a whole workday, but I had a 15minute lunch for crying out loud. This entire week is filled with the followup doctor appts for all of us, so I'm hoping to just keep everyone happy, fed, and wearing clean pants.

Heaven help us all.

I am still waiting on a baby. Three and a half months after he was born, I'm still waiting on a baby. I want him home already! I want to pick him up and cuddle him and be spit up on and have exploding diapers at midnight.

You mothers out there who read this, you know how badly I want this kid home. Yes, I'm actually looking forward to his exploding diapers. I'm not quite insane over it yet, I refrained from slugging a nurse today. That sort of thing just doesn't look good on the bottom line.

It's an endless cycle. We've got another new tentative discharge date, and I'm scared to say it out loud for fear of jinxing ourselves. I'm scared of a lot of things tonight. I want my baby to come home.

I want to sit with my little girl and my little boy together; I want them both here next week when their father, my husband, gets the Procedure done. I want to move out of this endless holding pattern and get back to blogging funny things.

Soon. Soon I will have some laughter to share with all of you. Just not tonight.

We got up to see the baby today. This morning was an upper GI series, this afternoon was a head ultrasound. It seems that my son does, in fact, have a brain. The Boy and I are making firm note of this, as we fear in the years to come we will have grave doubts. Pre-teen years, I'm looking at you. Also Adolescent years. And adult years. Gee, let's just call it the entire rest of his life.

The latest on Robbie is that he's outgrown even the open crib. We went from isolette, which is the highest level of infant containment, that nifty plexiglass box with portholes and special buttons, to a warming table, which is essentially a platform with a blanket-covered mattress and Serious Heat Lamps. Then we got him to take to the open crib, which is a plexiglass baby bucket insert that pops out of a little wooden cart. Think microwave cart, only holding a crib instead of a microwave. And now he's in a standard sized hospital crib, with a mattress that raises and lowers like an adult's except by crank instead of buttons.

All those little things that don't add up. The feeding issues. The growth issues. The slightly enlarged ventricle in his head. The failed hearing tests. It sometimes makes me want to question my sanity in wanting and having a second child, but then I remember that my sanity was lost a long time ago and who am I to second-guess the universal powers that decreed that this was the child I was supposed to have? All these little things that add to a bigger thing and we can't see the shape of the total puzzle yet. All I know is that he's my baby and I can't have him home just yet, but that if we're all very lucky he'll be home soon. I just have to be patient.

There are times I'm sick of patience. I rail against the unfairness of this. In the deep recesses of my heart I'm screaming that this ends soon. That the pressure is released, that my little girl overcomes her blocks with communication, that her disorder can find the right combination of therapies that will let her show us what she's capable of.

I'm running from one special needs child to another. I'm going to be doing this indefinately, with some level of intensity, for the rest of my life. Maybe someday I'll have respite, maybe someday I'll find the right person that I can feel safe leaving the kids with for a couple of hours so that I can leave the house without them. Right now the list of people I can trust them with is depressingly small. My husband, my mother. It's not just that I'm picky over leaving her, it's that when she gets overwhelmed and overstimulated there are only one or two things that work to get through to her.

This too shall pass. I just need to keep smiling and breathing and putting one foot in front of the other. Serenity. Now.

We got there to pick him up and found that the doctor had changed his mind. There are some other minor issues that taken individually don't seem like much but when added all up are enough to raise concerns. Certainly enough to retain the child in NICU and move him back to the main facility for more tests.

I miss him. I was all ready for bringing him home. The house was clean. I was ready. I made his bed and tucked in a lovey, and now there's no baby. The Toddler was the worst, still having meltdowns every time we turned around and clinging to everyone. Made it easier to keep our shit together, though.

I miss my baby. I want him home already. Is that too much to want? Even though I know it's better by far to have these little things worked out ahead of time, it's just so much worse to be ready and all psyched for this thing and then find out it's not happening.

Today is the day. After three months and a handful of days, this is the day my son comes home. It is marked by clear blue skies, partial sun, and warmth. Little songbirds are fluttering through our backyard. The Toddler woke up and was crying in my arms at breakfast time insisting that she was my baby- after all this time we still didn't know how much she understood what was happening. She doesn't like to talk to us, or communicate with us, and there's almost no way to tell what makes it into her head. But now I know that she knows, and as I wiped her tears away this morning it was crystal clear to all that she knows that there will be a baby coming here to stay. And she's a little unsure of where her place will be in all of this; yet I think that everything can be dealt with as long as there are tons and tons of snuggles and reassurances that she's still our baby as well. No one can replace her in our hearts and affections. Parents' hearts are big enough to hold all of their children.