He loves us, he really does!

So this new phase of Isaiah's life is an endearing one to us. He won't let anyone else hold him without crying unless it's Mommy, Daddy or Ama (Grandma). First, you feel bad for the people who try to hold him. They can't help it, they feel like they did something wrong or they somehow made him cry by hurting him. But it's only because he's so attached to his circle of people he knows. You feel awful for the person holding him. You want to apologize to them, tell them it's not their fault, he's just going through a phase. But then- you feel like, finally! He really loves me! In the begining, it didn't matter who held him, where he was- he didn't care, he smiled at just about anyone and was happy no matter who's arms he was in. It didn't matter that I was the one that sat there and breast fed him every 2 hours for 45 minutes each side. It didn't matter that I was the one who changed his 20 diapers a day or so. Or that I was the one who labored for 18 hours and pushed for 2 hours to give birth to him. Anyone could hold him. Anyone could care for him- as long as his basic needs were met. I was merely a food supply. Now, he knows me, he's attached to me. He clings to me- he looks for me if I'm not close by. I'm sure I will be relieved when he finally starts coming around to other people. But for now, I am taking this stranger anxiety for what it's worth! He loves me, he really does!

My heart breaks...

each and every time our baby cries. You would think it would get easier to hear. Babies cry an average of 3-4 hours a day- for different reasons according to research. I'm not sure that Isaiah cries all that much, but each time he cries, it hurts me. Regardless of why he's crying- fussy, hungry, overtired- it pulls at your heartstrings. The worst for me is when Isaiah gets tired and it's time for him to take a nap. Lately he doesn't like it when I leave his sight- separation anxiety. So nap time is difficult. He is exhausted, I can tell. So I bring him to his crib, kiss him and tell him I love him. As soon as I put him down he pops up and looks at me with those huge puppy dog eyes. They plead, please don't leave me mommy. His bottom lip curls under into the sweetest saddest pout you have ever seen. His eyes well up with tears. I always feel so awful, but my baby needs his rest, and staying would put my wants before his needs. He continues to plead with me, pulling down the crib bumper to look at me as I leave the room. It breaks my heart, I literally feel the pain in my chest. I want to run back to him and hold him and hug him, but I know how tired he is- usually he's alseep in 5 minutes or less. It's so hard, even though I know I am doing what's best for him. Does it ever get easier?

"Too bad we weren't lesbians..." she said.

"I know, it would be so much easier." I replied, without even flinching. We were sixteen then, and sometimes, even now, we still feel the same way. Not that our husbands aren't wonderful- just that girlfriends understand each other in a different way.

A gal's gotta have a bestfriend. Marissa has been mine for 15 years! We have the kind of friendship that is casual, everyday, no need for formalities. "Hey, what are you doing?" is the typical start of all of our phone conversations. Sometimes there is no real "start" to a conversation with us. We just simply talk like we never stopped talking, no formal hello or greeting. "I still can't believe how tacky so and so was..."

Marissa is the kind of friend that I can brush my teeth and talk on the phone with at the same time, and she won't even be irritated. I can answer the other line and not get back to her for half an hour and she won't get mad. This is how we are. We know we'll talk again soon, and something must have been pretty good to not click back over. We talk about EVERYTHING and ANYTHING. Who else could I have a half hour conversation about CLEANING with? And it is never boring.

Marissa and I have known eachother slightly longer than we've known our husbands. We are very close, like sisters, no- closer than sisters. We truly know each other in a way that nobody else does. When we were younger we played outside together, walked home from the bus stop together, and took turns walking each other home. We had fights and wrote each other nasty letters and folded them up in special paper folds and had other people give them to each other. We trick or treated together. When our small town finally got a Target store, we went together everyday and bought candy. We played MASH together. Then we got a little bit older and borrowed each other's clothes, makeup, curling irons. We spent hours making mixed tapes. We anazyled countless songs on the radio and learned them word for word- because those songs were about us and our lives. We spent hours on the phone together then- I think our record was 8 hours (even though we lived down the street from each other). We still spend hours on the phone today. We helped each other get ready for prom. We wished on stars while swinging in the park together. We struggled through first loves together before we found our true loves. We took classes in college and conquered 5 mile runs together. We've hated each other's boyfriends and parents as if they were our own. We've lied together, spied together and cried together. We lived together several times, ran away together, contemplated God together.

The same things make us mad. We have the same bad habits. We have the same core beliefs. Yet we are also very different. This is why we work together so well. A gal's gotta have a best friend. I'm so glad Marissa is mine.

That THING in the refrigerator

It's downright scary...enough to give one nightmares.

That thing in the refrigerator

We don't know what it is

It's green and fuzzy

Please don't open the lid!

But my good corningware!

We can't throw that away

But we don't know what it is

Clean it up another day?

That thing in the refrigerator

We don't know what it is.

It happens to the best of us. Leftovers from who knows when, get pushed further and further back until it is out of sight, out of mind. Only to be discovered when I have looked everywhere else for that missing dish. Why is it so hard to clean that stuff out? Even rational people have thoughts of just chucking the whole thing, dish and all into the dumpster. I have to arm myself with an artillery before I start. I put on my heavy duty gloves and get my double plastic bag ready. I open the window to get some ventilation going, and make sure Isaiah is FAR FAR away, in case those noxious fumes are toxic. I turn the water on and let it run extra hot before I start. I aim the dish soap like a gun. I take a deep breath and hold it. I clean with hot steam and fast fury. I throw the sponge away, just in case. You just never know.

OLD

Today we went to the mall. I went into one of those trendy but cheap stores where all the teenagers spend their money. The kind of store I should never shop in because it makes me feel so out of place. It's the kind of store where the sizes run from XXS to L. Only the L is really a S in real clothes. But I had been looking for a certain kind of pant for the longest time and I knew they had them there. Anyway, after standing in line to get to the (tiny) dressing room and trying them on (in really bad lighting), I decided to buy them. To my surprise I fit into the S - but decided to go with the M instead just to be on the safe side (I didn't want to risk them being tight in ANY spot).

To my point- being surrounded by all those teeny boppers made me feel really OLD. I am so out of style I don't even know what's in and what's out. I am so not cool anymore and I am so conservative now that I think these new fashions look just plain silly. I stood in line for ETERNITY and almost decided it was not worth the wait. The teenage/early 20's me would have waited in line forever if I had found something I liked. The younger me would never think these new fashions were silly- I would have been amongst the first of my peers to be sporting them! Now, this didn't even seem to be worth it! I kept craning my neck to look outside to look for my husband and the stroller. I decided that I had waited this long, and there was no turning back now. So I took this scene all in- the girls in line, all made up with their hair done- talking about what is cute and what is not, text messaging their friends who were in the dressing room. As the line slowly moved forward it passed through an aisle with beaded accessories. I stared at the display of extremely long necklaces. I was totally confused. These necklaces were sooo long. I picked one up- this would go down to my belly button. Is this the style these days? I wondered. So that's when I realized just how old and out of vogue I really am. On the tag it said: Beaded Belt. Yeah, I can't even tell the difference between a necklace and a belt. I am SO OLD! I need to trade my baby magazines in for a fashion magazine! I'm pathetic! This from the girl who was voted: Most likely to host MTV's house of style, in highschool. How wrong were they?

FAT

I'm getting there. Last week I complained to Dave that the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Bites, were not as good as the actual cups. Yet, over the next few days I proceeded to eat them- one by one (or three by three), until today- they are all gone. 220 calories per 8 bites! This is how mothers get fat. We don't have time to eat or prepare something healthy so we end up eating Rocky Road and Doritos for lunch. Then we get so tired, and need a caffeine booster like Coke. I'm telling you, junk food has some kind of addictive properties in it! I think they inject crack/cocaine into Cheetos. Did you watch Supersize? I'm thinking of suing Dreyers Ice Cream for making me fat.