Friday, June 29, 2007


The Bug has had a cold all week. Last night she developed this nasty, croup-y sounding cough which kept waking her up. Around 2 a.m. she started crying, so I got up to get her. The poor little thing, she was just sitting in her crib, head down, fists scrubbing at her eyes, crying in a hoarse, pathetic little voice. When she saw me, she wailed "Mama," and held up her arms.

I gathered her up and brought her to bed. She nursed for a bit but wouldn't drift off until I held her on top of me, against my chest. She snuggled right down, stuck her thumb in her mouth and started twirling a strand of my hair in her fingers. I rubbed her back for a while, savouring the weight of her on me, her snuffly breaths against my neck.

It's times like this that hurt, when I realize that this is it, that there won't be any more moments like this. No more babies, no more trusting little bodies curved into mine, no more midnight snuggles, no more milk-drunk infants splayed out across my lap. I'm done.

So I try to carve each moment into my memory, but they're so fleeting, so ephemeral that I know I'm going to forget some of it. Every quiet moment with her is an opportunity to try again to capture it in my brain, to attempt to hold on to a moment, a moment that made me smile or cry or just stare in wonder.

How do you hold on to that? To the toothless grins, the babbling and cooing, the helpless giggles and even the inconsolable tears? How do you live in the moment while trying to hold on to the past? Because I want to, because as much as I love watching my babies grow and become these people, these funny, happy, sometimes maddening people, I long to hold on to that baby-ness of them, to hold their tiny little hands in mine, to keep them small forever.

Just like this....

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Amtrak Kicks Diabetic Man Off Train

Words fail me. Why on earth would Amtrak do something like this? Even if the man had been drunk, why would they think that letting him off in 800,000 acres of woods was a good idea? What the fuck??

Appalling. I hope they find this poor man before it's too late.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Bullets Over Bedhead, part whatever in a sporadic series

  • Doods. I have such a cold. My sinuses take turns on which side will be clogged. My throat feels like I've been eating light bulbs. And I think I have an abscessed tooth because the tooth that's broken is absolutely throbbing with pain. If it's not better by tomorrow, I'm calling my doctor for antibiotics. I don't have dental insurance or the money to get this sorted. The local technical college takes people for their students to practice on, but they don't run the program in the summer. I'm in such pain that I don't even care that it will be students pawing at my mouth. Given that I am The World's Worst Patient (tm) according to my last dentist, this is some indication of the level of pain I'm experiencing.
  • The babies got this cold first and generously shared it with me. Bug is not sleeping at all. She screams the house down when I lay her down in the crib, but she doesn't want to be held, doesn't want to play on the floor or in the playpen - it's awful. She only wants me to hold her and since I feel like dried-out ass, it's not been a lot of fun. Boo has the same cold, minus the screaming thing. Her nose, however, is a river of snot. Bleurgh. I took them to the doctor today, but they don't have ear infections, just a virus. Bug's tonsils are swollen, thus the crying. The doctor tested her for strep but doesn't think it's likely. We just have to tough it out. Fantastic.
  • It is so. fucking. hot. The bank dohickey said it was 100, which is a bit high, but not by much. Thank goodness we got that pool. As soon as I'm done typing this, I'm taking everyone in. I hate this kind of weather. It sucks the life out of you. I'd be quite happy if it could be about 75 - 80. Anything hotter than that is just too hot.
  • Yesterday, as I was driving home from errands, Boo was sitting in the back seat, humming a tuneless song. Out of the blue and very conversationally, she said "Jesus god dammit." Whoops. Guess I need to make more of an effort to clean up my vocabulary.
  • I went to see the Edward Hopper exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston a couple of weeks ago. If you're in the Boston area, go. It was fantastic. I was familiar with Nighthawks, but I didn't really know any of his other work. A lot of his work was looking in windows, looking into rooms and other people's lives. Fascinating. His architectural works are terrific, too. This one, his final painting, is my favourite:

  • I can't get that bullet out of there. It's bugging me. A lot.
  • Looking at it on the computer doesn't do it any justice. I'm so not an art person - I don't know jack about it - but this picture really spoke to me, of loss and longing and finality.

Monday, June 25, 2007

I don't like Oprah*

But this guy is amazing. I've watched it again and again and it's just breathtaking.

*O has always called Opera Oprah. It cracks me up, so it's Oprah now. (Sorry, Oprah.)

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Meet The Face Of Change

Amy Tenderich, over at Diabetes Mine, posted this and I thought I'd link to it, too. It's called Meet The Face of Change and it's similar to Diabetes Made Visible, except this is for patients with Type 2. Submissions are still being accepted, so if you know anyone with Type 2, get their photo in and get the word out. Type 2 is epidemic in this country. It's good to get more information out there, make it less of a "you did this to yourself" kind of disease.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Three is a magic number

This is currently making the rounds, so I thought I'd play along.

1. Jools
2. JuliaGulia
3. Mama

1. Ummmm.... Three? My fingernails. They're nice, they look good naked or painted.
2. My skin. I have been graced with good skin genes and don't have any wrinkles.
3. My right foot. It's nice. My left foot has a scar on the big toe, but it's also nice. However, I prefer my right foot. They both look good in peep-toe shoes or in sandals or bare, but the right one has the edge.

1. Hah! Just three, huh? Ok. My body from my neck to my thighs. I am woefully out of shape.
2. My boobs. I've breastfed three children. They just ain't what they used to be. Thank god for push up bras.
3. My teeth. I have been grinding my teeth since childhood and it's taken its toll. My teeth have hairline fractures, which means I have a fuckton of cavities. I have a cracked tooth at the moment - about 1/4 of it is missing and I need a root canal, but I don't have dental insurance and I can't afford to pay out of pocket for it, so I'm babying it along. It sucks.

1. Peruvian
2. English
3. German

1. Something happening to one of my kids
2. Heights
3. Horror movies. I'm a big girl's blouse when it comes to those. I hate them.

1. Dental floss (see above, about the teeth)
2. Hand lotion (because, as I keep stating, I'm a delicate, fragile flower who has terribly dry skin).
3. My computer. I can't stand not being connected.

1. I'm Not Really A Waitress polish on my toes.
2. A Jimmy Buffett concert t-shirt.
3. Blueberries (from the Bug, who thought they'd look good smeared across the Buffett shirt. Either that or she was giving her editorial opinion on my lack of fashion sense.)

1. I'm not a big musicals person. Guys & Dolls
2. Ummmm.... Singing In The Rain
3. Hmmmmm....A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum (which is HYSTERICALLY funny).

1. 1, 2, 3, 4 - Feist. Excellent song, whimsical voice.
2. See The World - Gomez
3. Tamacun - Rodrigo y Gabriela

1. Honesty
2. Respect
3. mutual admiration

1. A 1967 Shelby Cobra Fastback Mustang
2. The Chrysler Building
3. Sand dunes

1. Reading
2. Writing
3. Cooking

1. Have a gin & tonic
2. Eat one of the chocolate bars I bought today (Dagoba dark chocolate with mint, dark chocolate with cherries and vanilla or dark chocolate with raspberries and rosehips - decisions, decisions, decisions.)
3. Change the song on my Pandora station

1. I'm not considering. I am a writer.
2. And a mother.
3. Which is plenty, thank you very much.

1. Ireland, to see my friend Caragh.
2. The beach. I don't care which one, really, as long as it's clean and there's sand and water and sea shells. Narragansett would be nice. Horseneck is also lovely. I don't need the tropics right now, but check back mid-winter. I'll probably change my tune.
3. Colorado, to see my cousin Sarah (who owes me an EMAIL, hint, hint)

Oh please, I had a hard enough time coming up with the four I have. Let's see:
1. Owen.
2. Niamh (pronounced Neeve, sort of)
3. Caroline

1. Travel down the old Rt. 66
2. Get published.
3. Go see a game at every major league baseball stadium, preferably while the Red Sox are playing.

1. I HATE bugs. Hate them. Passionately. If you are a bug, don't come near me because I will kill you. The only bugs I don't kill are ladybugs. And butterflies. Because they're pretty.
2. I cry easily. I cry over stupid things, like my favourite song or a beautiful picture (you should have seen me at the Edward Hopper exhibit this past weekend.)
3. I love shoes. Love. Them. I squealed like a little girl when my DSW rewards certificate came in the mail today. Because it means MORE SHOES!

1. I'm knowledgeable about baseball, specifically the Red Sox.
2. I love (good) beer.
3. I enjoy hanging out in bars that have jukeboxes and pool tables and darts. They're not pretentious, they are what they are. Kind of like me.

1. Hugh Laurie
2. Keith Olbermann (yummmmmmy)
3. George Clooney (that man makes me weak at the knees.)

I'm tagging anyone who hasn't done this already.

Slowly Collapse, Like A Flan In A Cupboard

Just doing my civic duty, because it's been a while. But please, if you haven't seen this man yet, go, rent, buy, whatever. He's fucking hysterical.


Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Review This

I was asked to review a cookbook called Diabetes Fit Food, put out by the ADA, to review. In order to do it justice, I'm going to prepare some of the recipes in it, so the review will be up in a week or two. In the meantime, I've linked to a dLife recipe video over in my sidebar.

Mmm, cookbooks. Someone at the ADA must be psychic - there's no better way to get me to review something than to give me a free cookbook. Unless, of course, you want me to review your chocolate. For that, I'll need a good pound of each.

Monday, June 18, 2007

B, B, B. What begins with B?

Babushkas, babies and bed-time stories, B, b, B.

My grandmother's father made this doll's cradle for my grandmother when she was a child. He died when my grandmother was 5 or 6 years old. This was one of the few things she still had from her childhood - my grandmother led a paripatetic life, so anything she saved was small and portable. I've had it up on a shelf in Boo's room, but of course, any shelf is meant to be climbed and she brought it down and left it in the kitchen where the cat appropriated it for a nap. I kicked him out (he's a puker) but before I did, I had to snap a picture. And now, I hope I've planted that goddamned song in your head because it's been in mine for days now. You should all share my pain. That's the worst song ever written.

Baby in a babushka. She looks like a little refugee in that kerchief. And I did buy them some bathing suits - this was taken in early May, when it got really warm for a couple of days. Of course, it then cooled off and rained for, like, forever. It's because we got a real pool (well, a real inflatable pool - we don't have the cash for an honest-to-god pool). It's like washing your car - it's guaranteed to rain the next day. (Local D.O.C. people - dig Boo's shirt.)

The first blackberries of the season. And some Rice Krispies. You can just barely see her two teeth in there. She's had those two teeth for two months now and no sign of any more coming thru.

It may take a minute for this video to load. Boo, reading me a story.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

THAT kid

Sweet suffering mother of fuck. I'm going to swear a lot in this post. You have been warned.

Boo was THAT kid today. You know the one. In Target, with her mother, screaming blue fucking murder because her mother had the audacity to put her in a shopping carriage. Crying with huge, wracking sobs and fat, dripping tears because her mother dared to stop the carriage and peruse the greeting cards. Shrieking because her mother hauled her little butt out of the shopping carriage and marched her back to the car.

And now, that kid is in her room, screaming. Again. She has thrown all of her binkies out of her crib. I can't find them and I won't look for them. The last time she threw it, she was told if she did it again, she'd do without. Same thing for the cup of water.

I swear to god, I am this close to losing it. For the last two days, she's been nothing but defiant. She doesn't talk any more, she screams. If I don't LEAP up to do whatever it is she wants done, she has a fucking meltdown of epic proportions. She's driving. me. infuckingsane.

And The Bug isn't sleeping. Still. I bought some herbal crap that's supposed to help babies stay asleep. Yeah, that was ten fucking dollars down the drain. She was up at 11 p.m., 2 a.m., 3:30 a.m., 5 a.m. and 6:30 a.m., when I gave up and got up for the day. It's making me miserable and cranky and the demon-spawn of a two year-old isn't helping one fucking iota.

Tomorrow I get to take the whole fucking circus to my father's, where childproofing isn't necessary and the slightest dust mote is met with cries of horror. Fanfuckingtastic.

I need a fucking drink.

That will do very nicely. I'll have eleventy-two, please, barkeep.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007


O is starting to worry me.

I bought a box of stuff that flavours tap water. I'm always trying to get O to drink more water, especially during school and I thought this might help. You add a packet to 22 ounces of water. It only has 15 g of carbs in it, so I didn't think it would mess with her blood sugar that much, if she just sipped on the water all day.

I bought these on Sunday evening. I noticed this morning that they're all gone. It's only Tuesday. This isn't the first time I've noticed this kind of behaviour. If I buy a cereal she likes - and I'm talking Grape Nuts or Life, not Captain Crunch - she'll eat it up in a day or two. Rather than have a sandwich for lunch or get a piece of fruit for a snack, she'll have cereal. It's like she has to consume whatever it is because it might not be there tomorrow and she might never get it again.

I have st0pped buying most snack foods because she inhales them. I do buy Goldfish for the little girls, but I have to hide them. If I buy Kix for them to snack on, O eats them.

I don't get it. I buy fruit. I buy the fruit she asks for - apples and grapes, mostly - I buy other healthy snacks - I cut up peppers and cucumbers, I buy yoghurt, and she will eat them, but if there's anything else in the house, she wolfs that down, too. Even when I ask her not to eat something, she does anyway. I bought myself a pack of gum a few weeks back. I had one piece and she took the rest.

She's almost 13, so she tends to get her own snacks. Short of putting locks on the cupboards and starting a huge power struggle over food, I don't know what to do. She's putting on weight, which embarrasses her, but when I talk to her about it, she gets mad. She's sneaking the food and she almost always gets caught, but she continues to do it. Even when I say "Look, I don't care if you have X food, just TELL me about it." If she does ask, and I know she's already had a not-so-healthy snack, I tell her to get fruit. She never does - she'd rather go pout in her room.

Does anyone have any suggestions? I don't really know how to deal with this. It almost seems like obsessive behaviour, like she has to eat it now because there may not be any food available later.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Tu Diabetes

I am so late to the social networking party, having only signed up for a Facebook account, like, a month ago. But this is a new, diabetes-related social network. Very cool. If you have it, have a relative with it, check it out.

Friday, June 08, 2007


Boo rarely wakes up during the night anymore. Once in a great while, she'll call for me, usually because she's lost her binky.

Last night was one of those nights. It was 12:30 a.m. and I had just finished checking O's blood sugar when I heard a plaintive little voice calling "Mama!" I went into her room and she was sitting up in bed, whimpering that she needed a binky. Since it was pitch black in the room, I fished one out of the bucket o' binkies and popped one in her mouth. She promptly lay back down and I spent a moment smoothing the blanket and brushing her hair back from her forehead. I leaned down and whispered "Love you, baby," reveling in an infrequent tender moment.

She turned over, ripped a wicked fart and started snoring.

Such a delicate, fragile flower.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

My Eldest

I don't often talk about A on here. He's going to be 19 on the 4th of July and, right now, is driving me to distraction.

A has lived with his dad since the 7th grade. We were living in Worcester and I didn't want A going to middle school or high school there. His dad's town had a much better school system, so we agreed he'd stay there during the week and I'd take him on weekends. When TCBIM and I moved to the same town, we were able to see A more frequently. It was really nice.

Over the years, A's dad has done a lot, financially, for A that I didn't think was a good idea. A had a senior class trip to England that was going to cost around $2000. I told Alex I could contribute $500, but only if he also put in some money. He said he would, but he never got a job to earn the money. Because he didn't keep up his end of the deal, I didn't give him the money. His dad then took out an equity loan to pay for the trip.

My sister and I found a car for A. It was a little beater of a car - an old Nissan or Toyota - something small, inexpensive and cheap. The deal was that A had to get his license and a job to contribute to the cost of car insurance. He did neither, so we wound up selling the car to someone else.

Various things like this have happened over the years. A has never been willing to pull his own weight. He seems to think that if he just ignores his obligation, his dad or I will step in to bail him out. Well, I don't have the money to do that. Neither does his dad, but his dad has stepped in anyway.

Fast forward - A has had a couple of jobs. Currently he's working in a warehouse, 3rd shift. He was going to college - my mother helped him apply and helped him get financial aid. It was only community college, but still, it was something. But A decided it wasn't for him after only one semester. Thus the warehouse job.

A and his dad had a big blowout a few weeks back. A and his underage girlfriend were in A's room. His dad went off on them - it wasn't the first time A had been told that this wasn't acceptable behaviour - so A took off. Since then, he's been staying with his girlfriend and her parents. In their SHED!

And now he has strep throat and mono, probably from not getting enough sleep and from sleeping in a damned shed.

Honestly, who puts a kid up in their shed? Why didn't her parents call one of us? What has he told them that they think living in their shed is better than living with one of his parents??

This is just one in a string of shit that A has done. I talk to him, his dad talks to him, but he won't listen. He tells us what we want to hear and then does what he wants anyway. And he's pissed at everyone because we aren't buying him a $10,000 car and subsidizing an apartment for him. I don't know where he got the idea that we had this kind of money to spend, but I know he thinks he's entitled.

It's so frustrating. I love him, but right now, I'd like to paddle his ass.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Too broke

Mom-o-Matic has created these wickedly funny signs for those of us who can't afford to go to BlogHer this year (or next year, for that matter, unless someone dies or I win the lottery that I never play.)

Anyone know how I can put this in my sidebar? I have the image saved on my system, but I'm not sure if I need to contact Mom-o-Matic to get code or what. Can you tell I'm clueless about this stuff?

Stay tuned. Tomorrow I'm going to ask you how to get rid of a trojan virus I picked up somewhere.

And why am I up at this ungodly hour? Insomnia. And extra innings.

Monday, June 04, 2007

Beautiful, baby, just beautiful

Boo and The Bug have a photo shoot tomorrow. My friend Timna (hi, Timna!) gave me the name of a woman at Family Fun magazine who picks the kids they use in the magazine and they liked my kids. I thought they were cute, but it's nice to have a third party agree with me.

So tomorrow, they'll be getting all dolled up in their holiday best and having their pictures done. I can't wait to see what this will be like - a two-year-old and a 10-month-old in their best bib and tucker, having strange people take their pictures. It will either be fantastic or an unmitigated disaster, full of tears and drama.

They best bit is that they'll be getting paid. Well, I'll be getting paid for them. It's only $100, but $100 is $100.

And in the Too Much Information department, does anyone know if laxatives get passed thru breast milk? My anti-depressant dosage was increased recently and, well, the pipes are more than a little blocked.

I can't believe I'm discussing my plumbing on the internet...have I no shame? Apparently not.