home, a cozy little prison?

David Byrne has visited Savannah, Georgia recently, and made me wistful for that amazing city. I've only been once, but Shane and I fell in love. The architecture and garden squares, spanish moss looking all lazy and drapey and sexy everywhere, the sultry heat just cast a spell on me. Something reminded me of the New Orleans of my imagination (never been there much to my disappointment.)

We talk about moving there when we daydream together. I vascillate between completely loving the relatively small town we live in, and feeling smothered my the familiarity. I love that our families are close, and I love the friendliness and comfort of this place, but sometimes I feel so sheltered and ignorant of the real world. I'm sure a lot of this feeling comes from living 10 or so miles from the house I grew up in and isn't a West Virginia thing necessarily. I've only ever lived one other place- Pittsburgh for a brief alternate universe of a time- and I feel like I'm missing so much culture and experience. In ways I feel insulated here. Time's strange in Appalachia. The mood of the people of older generations seems like it's the same as their grandparents' grandparents. Very slow, resistant to change, and conservative. My generation has the advantage of living in two communities- the global environment technology has created and the small old one we were raised in.

I love it and hate it. I think how lucky Molly will be to grow up in a safe tame world, then I remember how we are ranked 49th in quality of education. I have reveries of living on the east coast- the left coast, where I'd feel at home with the liberal green attitude that's so alien here still. Then my love of the earth reminds me how much I'd miss the green hills and little wandering creeks. Shane hates that idea, but moving to Savannah or the Outer Banks sounds good to him. The ocean would be a more than fair trade for the mountains I think. When I'm on Hatteras Island, where my mom's ashes were washed into the sea, I feel more at home in myself than I do here.

Beneath all these musing is the reality of our situation. We feel trapped by our bank account- if we could travel more, would we be happier to come home? How would we make a move if we wanted to? We also know Molly will be starting school in a few very short years. We'd rather be settled for her- someplace else or here. And what about the grandies, who see her every other day now. How could we take her away from them? But are we hindering her by staying here? I hate thinking I'm doing things by default. Like I'm not choosing anything, I'm just letting circumstance do it for me. If we have a choice some day when money's coming more easily, and we decide it's best to be here, we'll be here on purpose and that's wonderful. I'm just feeling trapped because our options in so many areas are severely limited.

happy moonday

Molly, nine moonly-months. Hobbies include naps in the Mei Tai sling, eating hummus and beans, growing teeth, and practicing standing all by herself. Bedtime is midnight. Mama tired.

oops i did it again

So, I keep blowing up my template and being generally unable to change ANYTHING without doing so, so I'm off to recreate it and you'll just have to live with a wonky right column until then. OK, so it's fixed but needs improvement. Carry on:)


CrazyHip Mamas, I am the worst ring applicant, I promise I'll get your code reinstated ASAP.

(so sorry)

someone's grief

Sometimes you read a terrible thing, and it's a stranger and it's so sad, and you pause and you send some healing thoughts out to them, but you don't even know where you're sending them. You are momentarily gloomy, and you prepare to navigate away from the blog where her friend posted about her loss of her newborn baby.

Then a small detail in a comment drags your heart out of your body and turns it inside out and you have such a vivid image of being this women that it takes your breath away.

Wannabe Hippie, who has the cutest girls ever, posted about her friend's tragedy. Asking, "What can I do? Anything at all?" Someone mentioned relief for sore breasts, because her milk would come in of course, with no mouth to feed. This just shatters me- to think of a mother's tender newly milky breasts leaking and hurting like her heart would be. Nursing to me is so much more than just feeding, it's a physical representation of the link I feel between my suddenly-mellowed spirit and Molly's bursting, new one.

All kinds of love and prayers for this woman, and her sweet friend who feels helpless.

ah, the morning after

I propose that February 15th be dubbed International Eat Chocolate for Breakfast Day. I scrounged up a nice dinner at the supermarket and found some chocolates for us to share. We rented "Click" which was a little better than I'd expected. The best thing?

...FIVE (5!) hours of solid sleep, in the crib!

So I actually slept with my husband on Valentine's Day. *Swoon* Could have been more romantic if someone hadn't been cranky with a sore throat and stuffy nose and hadn't kicked her husband's well meaning gentle advances away, but still: awesome.

melancholia & the secret

I feel so wistful and sad. I'm not sure why. The weirdly fragile mood set in before I read this and then this, so these beautiful loving posts aren't exactly the reason I feel tears in my throat.

It was hard sleeping in late with Bu & Boue and then having to face the fact that the roads had cleared and I had no excuse to avoid work any longer. I nearly teared up while microwaving watery hot cocoa in the cold back office, thinking of them snuggled up in bed warm and cozy. (I later found out they were actually napping then, like I imagined.)

I'm bummed and pissed at myself for not staying up late to make Bu a Valentine card, thus breaking a five-would-be-six year tradition of arty Heidi Valentines. They usually feature an actual human heart image because a) they are cooler than fake-heart-shapes, b) the vampire loving former goth girl adores the idea of giving Bu a bloody organ image for a gift, and c) I love anatomical imagery. I get creative chakra orgasms watching the opening credits for House or looking at old Vitruvius etchings.

But, can I be excused because I don't think he got me anything this year either and we are new parents and broke? We have a gift certificate to a new local organic restaurant we usually can't afford, but we elected to stay in. The weather's ick, and we want to be with the Mollybird. So my task is to stop at the grocery store, pick out something for dinner, buy wine or not, and get a movie. I feel the opposite of creative. I'm pissy because I feel like pasta primavera and Bu doesn't like it. We have opposing tastes in food. Hmm. No, now I want sake and sushi takeout, but that's too spendy. Fuck.

We got our The Secret DVD's. I was put off by the production- so drama queeny cheesily overdone. The message is cool, though. I'm so down with the Law of Attraction. It's a principle of Wicca flavored magic. Bu likes it except for a couple of the lecturers/Teachers/cult leaders. He felt motivated, so I think we can work some positive mojo into our lives. i fell asleep before gleaning any knowledge of how to implement the ideas, so I'll give it another open-minded go.

Happy Valentine's Day if, like me, you find it a good excuse to make gory cards, drink wine & eat chocolate off of with your loved one(s.)

arty night, the mom photos

Bu was at the photo lab today picking up a job, and our friends let us know an old friend was in from Brooklyn to show his new work at the school gallery where we all got our BA's. We decided to go have Middle Eastern food and see the work.

It is awesome. He used to sandblast tomb stones for a living, and his work is on marble, and it's images of graffiti and found objects and junk food. So weird and brilliant to juxtapose this random stuff that we see as a casual, un-thought of texture in our environment and use permanent heavy material to frame it in a new way.


This is his site.

Molly enjoyed herself thoroughly. She feasted on hummus, eaten off my fingers, and we got to see a lot of old friends who'd never met her.

My friend brought me the photos of mom that turned up at the lab.


These are the Yayas, mom leaning out in the top left:

This is mom and her best friend, a.k.a. Molly's LaLa, on her right:

It's so amazing to have this sudden little surprise of her smile out of nowhere.

poem * little star

I posted a new poem on AllPoetry a while ago, and there are my old ones available as well. Just remembered to link it here.

little star

Back to work now.

Again.

unconscious mutterings

1. The best thing :: would be chocolate


2. Hold :: me closer tiny dancer i love shane


3. Rapture :: =blondie, but would I have written that if Eden hadn't? maybe I would have typed sex, but as we know I'm a nursing born-again virgin.


4. Cover :: make-up. can i find a good shade at the health food store? can I afford that? need some for fundraiser party. will aunt P still buy me a dress?


5. Restrictive :: corset


6. Baker :: dozen i want sugar cookies


7. Author :: who am I reading? who wrote Life of Pi? Martel? that was great. need new book. Second Nature was OK but reading large print made me feel cheated like the book was artifically long. Nice to hold book at normal distance. why don't I wear my reading glasses?
   
8. Pill :: hormones


9. Months :: pregnant. i'll never have a giant belly again how sad but i was so miserable at the end


10. Valentine’s Day :: red; see #1; do i have time to make shane a card this year? i always do have to sneak & do one by hand maybe

thanks, Eden, for the link. never heard of Unconscious Mutterings. now I have. 'S good.

molly's shout out & books you never thought i'd mention

Molly waves "Hi!" to Marianne. Thanks for the *beautiful* hat. We finally got her to leave it on for a trip out by taking off the (adorable!) ribbon. The wave thing is the cutest thing ever. She knows the word "Hi" means to wave her itty bitty arm and sometimes she groks "Bye Bye" too. So far, there is not a sign of Mama-leaving-trauma, mostly because she's so bonded with the Grandies.

Speaking of the Grandies, Papaw heard me talking about The Hillary's run for the White House and decided that I should read Rewriting History, as well as Hating America and something by Bill O'Reilly. I grinned and said "I don't know if I should read these- they may piss me off." He insisted I'd find them very good and I replied, "I don't think you realize how liberal I am." He said, "If you're that liberal, you're in trouble, honey." (He loves me even though I'm a tattoed Goddess worshipping Hillary lover.) I told him that yes, actually I was "in trouble" politically because I am indeed so radical that I will see little or none of my favorites in office in my lifetime. He said something about Social Progressivism, and I said, "Um, yeh, like supporting gay marriage and the like?" His answer was, "No, not necessarily. Social Progressives want to change everything and they are against traditionalism."

I politely exited then, because both of the following things are true: Social Progressives aren't against traditional values per se, and many traditional values suck.

The books are in the bathroom with the good ol' King James, old parenting mags, and my cheesier "Wicca 101" books- where things that I am interested in but not very much go to live and be perused idly while I do bathroomy things. I chatted happily with Bu about what books from my collection I could offer in trade. We decided lesbian erotica would be best:)

cave womyn

I've been deep in hibernation this week- nursing myself through a nasty cold with hot toddies, Sudafed (accompanied by an arsenal of oatmeal and brewer's yeast and vast lakes of water to preserve my milk supply,) and soup. The weather has only added to my insulated feeling. We had a pretty serious snow- maybe five inches, which is great for our area in these days of global warming. Molly caught a bit of the cold, but seems much more comfortable than I was at the worst.

Tomorrow I'm planning to emerge from my coccoon to tend to grocery shopping and a serious housecleaning. This house is driving me insane. Chaos has taken up permanent residence and I must drive Her out.

Bu is joining me in a renaissance mood lately. We are reinventing our attitudes and healing the fragmented craziness of our lives. We cemented our commitment to change by buying a copy of The Secret DVD. I feel a little flaky jumping on board the self-help machine after getting giddy seeing these guys on Oprah, but that's totally what happened. I'm more excited that Bu and I got hyped about the same idea that I about the actual idea I think. It just seems like a good dose of positivity and a good reminder of how important thinking purposefully is. I really think one's focus creates one's reality (if that's not a direct Jedi quote it's close, lol) but I don't live that way, and I need to. We need to. So, I'll post after viewing the DVD to see if I'm as excited as I imagine I'll be. There's probably a whole post in me somewhere about my desire for self improvement. Hence the "evolution..." tagline.

Map of my brain: hibernate --> cave--> womb --> da Vinci drawing --> my old digital sketch from when I was insane thinking I was pregnant and knowing I was but being terrified I wasn't for some unknown reason only explainable by the fact that I was indeed pregnant and my whole body was flooded with strange new hormones. I forgot until I found the file that I called it "My Own Red Place."

During the Great Hibernation of 2007, I read Life of Pi. It was fantastic. Molly was unphased by the passages I read to her, but then she's really more focused on learning to finger-feed herself, the strange technique of crawling she invented (on hands and one foot, dragging the other leg,) and practicing standing alone then thudding on her booty.

charge of the goddess

A piece of art for my dear UU friend, who is also a Mary-revering pagan. The text, unfortunately illegible here, is the Charge of the Goddess. Since it's one of my favorite prayers, I'll indulge myself & post the text below:

Listen to the words of the Great Mother, who of old was called Artemis, Innana, Demeter, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Diana, Brigid and by many other names.

"Whenever you have a need of anything, once in the month, and better it be when the moon is full, you shall assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of Me who am Queen of all Witches. You shall be free, and as a sign that you be truly free you shall be naked in your rites. Sing, feast, dance, make music and love, all in My presence, for Mine is the ecstasy of the spirit and the Mine also is joy on earth. For my law is love of unto all beings. Mine is the secret that opens upon the door of youth and Mine is the cup of wine of life that is the holy grail of immortality. I give thee knowledge of the spirit eternal and beyond death, I give peace and freedom and reunion with those that have gone before. Nor do I demand sacrifice, for behold, I am mother of all things, and My love is poured upon the earth."

Hear the words of the Star Goddess, the dust of whose feet are the hosts of heaven, whose body encircles the universe: "I who am the beauty of the green earth and the white moon among the stars and the mysteries of the waters, I call upon your soul- arise and come unto Me! For I am the soul of nature that gives life to the universe. From Me, all things proceed and unto Me they must return. Let my worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals."

Let there beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you. And you who seek to know Me, know that thy seeking and yearning will avail thee not, unless you know the Mystery; for if that which you seek, you find not within thee, you wilt never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning and I am that which is attained at the end of desire.

Blessings!

mom

The craziest, most serendipitous thing happened:

My souster (bestest friend, soul+sister=souster) works in a photo lab, and she called me to tell me she and our friend were printing a set of snapshots, and the women in the photos really reminded them of the YaYas (my mom's girlfriends.) They looked closer, and realized they were the YaYas and my mom was in some of the pictures. I asked her if there was any ethical way to get me a set of the photos, and they'd already contacted the woman and told her who I was and gotten permission to give me a set.

It's so crazy. Mom hated being photographed, even though she was so gorgeous, so I don't have a lot of photos. These are at least seven years old, so it's just crazy this lady happened to find them and decide to print them. Then, she took them to souster's lab, which is unlikely because they usually do high end processing for professionals and I doubt they get too many snapshots like that.

It's freakin' awesome. I can't wait to post some photos.

-------------------------------

I've been dreaming about Mom again, and they are disturbing lucid dreams where she's alive and I know when I wake up she'll be dead. Also she doesn't know she is dead, and if I mess up and let it slip she'll be gone. It's so weird. I always have to ask her why she's not dead or why she doesn't remember that she is or was sick, and there's a horrifyying scared look on her face. It's so vivid. I guess my own motherhood's bringing things up again- I used to dream this constantly.

Or it's in the stars, because a bunch of people are dealing with this. Thordora at Spin Me I Pulsate has a beautiful heart-wrenching post about her grief today. And when I talked to souster the other day, she was telling me that she and her eldest son have been missing her Dad a lot. He died the year after my mom did. The strange thing is that her little guy was just a year old when his grandpa died. He keeps talking about Grandpa like he knew him, in a sends-chills-down-your-spine, psychic and beautiful way. That kid is so amazing and cool. He's named after my mom, because souster got pregnant within weeks or so of mom's death. That was such a beautiful gift to me that she named him for her. It's a good reminder of how, in the big picture, birth and death are perfect mirrors and there's such beauty in the light and dark.

The macrocosm of death is easy to revere and understand. It's when one small, specific life is gone from you that the devastation happens. Someone who's echo keeps making patterns in your life long after they've gone.

new layout... so exhausted!

My adventures in designing have worn me out today. I have plenty of client work to do, including the exciting layout for the urban wear website. (Let me just say how ecstatic I am to be working with a hip awesome client, because the last website and logo I did was for someone with very, very different taste than mine.) But, I haven't taken time to play with my precious, beloved blog in so long, so I messed around with PsychoKinesis template generator (because I barely know html, much less CSS or whatever the fuck widgets are) and finally came up with brilliance incarnate. Then it wouldn't work, so another hour later I realized I have to revert to the old blogger template and that seems to have worked.

There are issues that need ironing out, like my having to manually put in my labels links, but I seriously need to get to work Four more hours of Mollylessness (OK, so that's not my best invented word ever...) and oh Goddess I haven't pumped since she nursed at noon. Gonna 'splode.

A note: The Boue can crawl, and she is eight months. I'll do a moonday graphic later, and since this is MY universe I'm making the executive decision to change to normal Gregorian dates rather than lunar, regardless of my lunar dating rocks rant from a while back. So moondays will not always be Mondays, and I'm already late anyway.

And now I pump, and rest, and then jump headfirst back into Fireworks, the best program in the world.

snow, a party, milk & cookies

Snow pretty.

We may get up to 4 inches, which is unheard of lately. When I was a kid, West Virginia had real winters with the sledding and the long undies and the cocoa and the school closings. Now we rarely have actual coverage. I hear the phrase “global warming” daily, which is good as far as awareness-raising. I am not, as I’ve previously whined, a fan of winter, but I’m only opposed to actually living in it myself. I think a good four-season climate is a lovely idea, and that people should be allowed to experience a nice Appalachian winter so they can sit by a fire writing me postcards in Savannah or Key West or something.

Actually, snow is lovely, and I hope we get a good thick blanket of pure white beauty and that the schools, and therefore the clinic, are closed tomorrow.
Yesterday was a fun Mommy-networking day. We went to a birthday party and I schmoozed with another nursing mama. We discovered that nursing in public is easier in numbers, and that after we proudly dropped bra, neither of our daughters would nurse due to the extreme excitement of Dora balloons, juice, and toddlers running amok. I went fishing in Molly’s mouth for a gooey gummed-up piece of party hat I didn’t notice she’d been eating, and avoided her choking to death, which is always nice. I talked to a mom of four-month old twins- her toddler was the birthday girl- who is nearly losing her mind (understandably) and I convinced her to let me help her out with some babysitting or something sometime. Both nursing moms (those twins have never had formula and their mom is so proud) I talked to are having supply problems, so I’m baking a big batch of magic milk-enhancing cookies*. It’s my first attempt at this recipe, so we’ll call it an experiment and hope it fares better than the banana oatmeal bread I ruined this week.

A la Noel at Breastfeedingisnormal.org Their site's down for maintenence but they have a mailing list subscribe button.

blog for choice

I'm late, but:



Why?

Because it never occured to me to be anything but pro-choice. As I matured into a sexual creature as a girl, it just became a passion that this new world of sex would be my own to explore freely and hungrily and curiously. The responsibility inherent in this exploration was a given, and this beautiful world of new textures, tastes, smells, sights, and sounds was about beauty, and GodGoddess and love, and wasn't about motherhood.

Because the most rewarding job I ever had was at a women's health clinic, and the women I met there changed me, and enriched my understanding of the unending complexity that is the life and body and soul of a woman. Because every woman I met who needed to end a pregnancy had
her own reasons, and her own particular bravery about her choice. Because the girls I met who needed many more years of childhood kept me from sleep nights on end and it made me feel like the most important thing I could be doing, ever, was to be a calm and gentle voice on the telephone when they called, or a supportive smile when we met.

Because every woman who bears a child should be allowed to do so as purposefully, with as much joy and excitement and anticipation as I did.

Because every being conceived deserves respect and a conscious and careful consideration of the best choices for that potential life.

Because I am a woman and I demand absolute, informed power where my body is concerned. I will make love or not, conceive or not, according to my own purpose. I will decide what kind of medical care I need, and determine when I do and do not need medical care.

Because the prevaling cultural attitude that doctors and legislators can make a better decision than I can about when to end a pregnancy and how to bring one to fruition is a lie that hurts all human beings.

moonday redux

I give up; I can't keep track of weeks anymore, so I'm just going to post by moon phases now...hehe. She was born 2 days after New Moon, so that's gonna be moon day. I'm a silly mom. I have so much fun with these little doodles.

Molly @ eight months: Learned to crawl, pulls to standing very well. Babbles constantly, waves Hi and Bye consistently. Lives for Peek-A-Boo.

a guilt-releasing resolution

I resolve to parent intuitively and cooperatively with my husband and to refrain from pressuring myself by imagining that Dr. Sears and the entire AP community are keeping a scorecard somewhere that looks like this:

Hospital Birth- SIN!
Breastfeeding- Good!
Solids after 6 months- Good!
Bites of known allergens from adult plates - SIN!
Juice with water in the sippy- SIN!
Disposable Diapers- SIN!
Homemade Babyfood- Good!
Wanting Baby Out of Bed, sometimes- SIN!
Deciding to put baby in crib as deferment to husband's desire, even though I'm only 85% wanting to give up cosleeping, thus making my marriage and my sexuality a priority again- SIN!
Planning on Extended Nursing- Good!
Own and Use (pretty often)- Swing, Walker, Exersaucer- SIN!
Prefer Sling to stroller when out- Good!
Forget to Read to Baby for days- SIN!
Talk to Baby constantly thus Driving those around me crazy- Good!
Have Given Up and allow Baby to be in room with TV on- SIN!

Because there is no scorecard, and my Boue is healthy and happy and I am making good choices for my family. Mommyguilt is the enemy and I hereby release it.

I have to do something about my stress level, and this is an excellent place to start. I need to reconnect with Shane so badly. We are both so tense about our lives right now and so depressed that we don't see any way to get out of our money slump that we are really edgy with each other. We need to be a comfort to one another and not let this put space between us.

I'm feeling wiggy again about using our real names in this blog. Shane seems uncomfortable with it, so I may change names and retroactively edit entries. I dunno. Not revealing anything distressing here, just think sometimes being non-anonymous inhibits my honesty. Maybe I need to return to my paper journal and vent my intimate thoughts.

Because, really, how many of you are as excited as I am that my period returned and now I will be ovulating and having wild sex kitten thoughts again?

lactivism

I love that word so much... so cute. So, your mission, if ya like:

Important! Breastfeeding legislation is coming up in this next session of the US House of Representatives, please help! From Florence Rotondo and the New Jersey Breastfeeding Task Force New Jersey Breast Feeding Task Force.Rep. Carolyn Maloney is going to reintroduce the Breastfeeding Promotion Act this coming session.The Breastfeeding Promotion Act would: amend the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to protect breastfeeding by new mothers; provide tax incentives for businesses that establish private lactation areas in the workplace; provide for a performance standard for breast pumps; and provide families with a tax deduction for breastfeeding equipment.

GET INVOLVED: Let the incoming Speaker of the House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi become very aware that the Breastfeeding Promotion Act is important and that we desire and expect her support in January.* Go to a card store and purchase (or make a homemade) card that is a "Congratulations on the New Grand-baby" card. The Speaker and the press have made much of the fact that she is a grandmother first and that she was awaiting grand-baby number 6 right around Election Day. The baby is a boy named Paul.* Write in the card:1) all babies have the Right to Breastfeed anywhere that the mother has the right to be.2) their mothers' need policies in the law that support the government's Breastfeeding Awareness Campaign to educate employers and workers about mothers' rights.3) ask her to throw the full weight of her position behind getting the Breastfeeding Promotion Act PASSED this coming session.* Get all your friends to sign your card before you mail it to Speaker Pelosi. Or buy/make several cards and get them addressed/stamped and ready to go and collect signatures from supportive friends who you know have good intentions, but little time, and mail them out with your own.* And lastly, *send this email to every mother, friend, listserv, breastfeeding support group and parenting site you know so that others can also send a card*. The idea is to get hundreds if not thousands of signatures/cards sent to Nancy Pelosi's office - right now - so that, by the time the Breastfeeding Promotion Act is reintroduced in January, she and her staff will have it on their radar.

The address to mail a card to Speaker Nancy Pelosi is:
* Representative Nancy Pelosi2371 Rayburn HOBWashington, DC 20515

And in Molly news, 4 1/2 hours of solid sleep. Belly full of fatty yummy avacado maybe helped? I decided to feed her some dinner at 9:00 p.m. Perhaps that was a good plan.

oh, shiraz be praised!

OK, I promised myself I wouldn't waste any of this evening blogging. Hey- if a girl can't lie to herself, who can she lie to? (Read: "To whom can she lie?" Whatever. My mission is to relax, so that must include prepositional sins.)

Molly's playing with race cars at Papaw's & Mamaw's, and will be snuggly co-sleeping with them tonight, a full half-mile from the nummins. Me, I'll be nursing a bottle of wine (and, intermittently, a pump) and catching up on design work. Then, I’ll crawl into bed with my husband, and sleep curled up with him and some good thick cloth nursing pads until morning.

Day’s been good. Dropped the Mollybird off at the grandies’, went to a very brief meeting with a very cool new web design client. Worked at the clinic a few hours on a mailing for a fundraiser, then went to nurse Molly and visit. The in-laws fed me, bless them. Came home, pumped, for the baby’s belly was full of peas & squash. (Also they gave her a taste of strawberry, but observe how I’m not wigging- the mission statement, remember- even though the yummy berries are a notorious allergen. She had no reaction and apparently liked it, so whatever.) Then I opened my bottle of Shiraz, actually remembering to dribble a few drops on the earth (OK, a houseplant = lazy pagan) for Dionysos.

So… this is me, having a break. I counted nursies last night? Five times between bedtime and waking, six if you count her breakfast nummins. Can you say reverse cycle? I don’t know if it counts as reverse cycling, since each session’s like 3-4 minutes. Also, I betcha $5 she’ll only wake twice for Mamaw & Papaw. I am a pacifier. It’s OK, but I’m glad I have such great in-laws to ship her off to for a night.

Jeez, Papaw, it’s not necessary to call me to tell me the Boue’s having a nap. ‘Specially since you just called 10 minutes ago to make sure I wasn’t missing a cool program on TV.

No, that's not my wine photo. Check out the awesome stock-photo postin' peeps @ stockexchange.