Little Lucy

This is the news today, fitting in with my theme from yesterday. A new human ancestor fossil found. Now, I don't know how they can find fossils 3+million years old when, according to a large portion of the population of Kansas, the earth is only 6,000 years old, but I still find this interesting.

I haven't had a chance to read and make any sense out of it yet. Our household is currently passing around a late summer cold/flu, and my head is pounding so hard that I'm having trouble even walking straight. I feel hungover, without the benefit of having enjoyed the drunken reveling that usually preceds a hangover.

I was looking at the pictures of her in our local newspaper, and Guthrie came up, curious. I tried to explain it to him, but he just asked, "Is it sharp?" and then closed that section of the newspaper, telling me it was scary. Okay, no little budding paleontologist there.

Lucy in the Sky

I'm ticked.

Eric's old e-mail address is still valid, and he got a message earlier that made me very mad. My favorite former professor, John Sheets, was announcing a guest speaker on campus. Who, you might ask?

Oh, just Donald Johanson!!!

I leave Warrensburg, and one of the very few people who I'm totally fascinated by comes to speak. Life=not fair.

Instead of listening to him speak, and getting him to sign his new book (which we've already gotten a copy of, although I've not had a chance to look at it), I'll just listen to "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and think of what I'm missing.

Sad. So sad.

We also found out CMSU is not CMSU anymore. Nope, now instead of Central Missouri State University it is the University of Central Missouri. The only apparent advantage I can see to this is it lost its unfortunate initials, and we'll have to be given a new nickname, instead of Call Me Stupid University .

(And, although I haven't moved to Beta yet, I'm having trouble leaving posts on some people's {Karrie's and Jill's} blogs. Could be on my end though)

Don't worry, I'm not selling the kids on eBay

Or the husband for that matter. Although this week - as you could probably figure out from the last post - did make both of those options sound tempting at one point or another.

And, for the record, it was indeed the completely insane blonde woman of the house (uh, me) who decided to skip birth control and let Mother Nature take its course. I won't flog myself, or listen to Vogon Poetry. (After marrying a writer, and attending lots of poetry and fiction readings, the Vogon poetry took on new meaning for me. I've heard a couple dreadful poetry readings, but also some very, very good ones)

(And to go completely off, I just realized it's 9:30 at night, dark out, but I can hear someone's lawn mower. I guess that's one way to beat the heat. How bizarre)

So, of course, I love my little ones more than anything. This week, for some reason, was very very hard on me though. I can't really tell you exactly why - it's all just a big blur for some reason. I know there wasn't much sleeping involved, and I know that one night when Guthrie had been awake for 2 HOURS already and it was about 4 a.m., and he'd succeeded in waking up Turner (but not Daddy), I lost my temper with him and wasn't exactly the best AP positive parenting mama around. Why exactly I thought yelling at a child would make him go to sleep I don't know. Yes, I had one of my worst parenting moments then.

The toys everywhere, the diapers, the endless repetitions of Richard Scarry stories, the constant preparing of snacks and having to pull down my shirt to feed the little one, the messes - it all got to me. Why this week? I don't know, it really wasn't any different. I was really feeling like we'd been insane - genuinely diagnosably insane - to have two kids so close together, even though it's how we planned it.

I'm feeling much better now. Eric let me take a nap this afternoon, and made cookies, to fatten me back up make me feel better.

I am much more certain now, though, that this IUD is staying in for the full five years, and then I'll only think of more babies if Mary Poppins can live in the garage.

What were we thinking?

Whoever thought it would be a good idea to forego birth control, let Mother Nature make the decision, and allow us to conceive a baby and have two little boys just 25 months apart needs to be flogged, repeatedly.

Or made to listen to Vogon poetry.

Where Were You ...

For a long time I was afraid the "Where Were You" moment of our generation was going to be something sadly representative of our generation, such as

- when the OJ Verdict was read? (At a prenatal appointment for Samantha at Bassett Army Community Hospital in Fort Wainwright, Alaska)

- when you found out about Kurt Cobain's death? (in my bedroom at home watching the news)

- when you heard Princess Diana had died? (I'd just been picked up from work by my ex-husband and his best friend, and they told me)

- when you heard (or watched) the Challenger explosion? (I'd just gotten home from school - first grade - and saw on the news. The older grades watched it live, but we weren't told about it. I'd wanted to be an astronaut up until that moment)

We all realize now that that moment for us, the moment that defines people now the way JFK or Martin Luther King Jr. (my parents found out about MLK's death when they arrived at the hotel for their honeymoon. He was probably being assassinated as they were saying their vows) was the previous generation, is 9/11.

And why do we feel the need to tell these stories? Why must we repeat our own tale of when we heard, what we saw, especially those of us who had no real connection to the event? Unity in crisis? A form of healing - what is it exactly?

I was working at the Revenue Office of Central Missouri State University. I had to call home for some reason and my then-roommate, Chris, said they'd just bombed the World Trade Center. At that moment it didn't mean much, then my boss came up and started telling us more details, we all began checking websites, and he brought up a portable radio so we could listen.

As the day went on, reports were varied and mostly inaccurate, at least by word of mouth - a rumor of a car bomb somewhere, and I was a victim of the gas-shortage rumors, and had to leave work early to be certain I had enough to make it home.

Just a few months later - New Year's Eve - I was in NYC, at the home of some of Eric's friends who lived in Battery Park City, overlooking Ground Zero. They described watching the planes hit out their window, the fears that the tower would fall on their building, and their trying to escape to safety until they knew it was okay to return. Then I met another friend, who was with his son on the last train to go under the WTC as the planes hit. And we were there, half-drunk on the streets, on our honeymoon, on 3/11/02 when the towers of light were first lit. We listened as everyone told their stories then.

It's still horrifying to watch. Our kids, though, won't get it. They will be so used to it, will have seen it over and over on the screens, the way we've seen JFK go down and Jack Ruby take out Lee Harvey Oswald, that it won't ever be real to them. They won't have the fear, the sadness, the longing for the world to return to the way it was on 9/10/01.

My son, though, saw the picture on the newspaper - one tower in flames and the other plane about to strike - and he knew. He turned the paper over, so he didn't have to look. He is only 2 1/2, but he still knew.

I don't have any great words of wisdom. It's all been said. But in the same way my mom's family was so in awe of the first moon landing that they took a picture of the screen, I had to say my peace, too.

This is why I can never get any work done

Yep, apparently I'm a human jungle gym. And my computer is the most fascinating thing in the world.

I was sitting trying to do something that should have been fairly simple (add music to my iPod, which actually turned into a nightmare, but that's a different story), and Guthrie climbed all over me. And stayed there. And I was afraid if we moved, he'd fall, so I was kind of stuck. Fun, fun, fun.

I did manage to get it done, though, and Eric set up my speakers in the living room, so I can listen to MY music in the living room and dance with the kids. Maybe I'll get rid of these last 10 pounds that way.

Should I add now, after showing this pic, that Gus can almoststand on his head, and hangs from the bunk bed? Gymnastics in the spring, maybe?

We've been Tagged

by Abby and Davis. Well, Turner has been tagged that is.

3 Things That Scare Me
*When Guthrie yells
*When I wake up and can't find a boob
*When Guthrie walks over me to make himself a "tunnel" for me

3 People That Make Me Laugh
*Guthrie
*Daddy
*Mommy (I don't really know anybody else yet)

3 Things I Love
*My swing
*my orange monkey
*boobs

3 Things I Hate
*having gas
*dirty diapers
*long car trips

3 Things I Don't Understand
*why Guthrie yells
*what's so special about trains
*Nascar

3 Things On My Desk/Table (or blanket)
*an orange stuffed monkey
*a Kermit the Frog rattle
*Yellow maracas

3 Things I Am Doing Right Now
*rolling over
*playing with my toes
*reaching for toys

3 Things I Want to Do Before I Die
*eat a strawberry
*play with Guthrie's toys
*wear underwear

3 Things I Can Do
*smile
*cry loud and long
*nurse

3 Things I Can't Do
*crawl
*sit up
*eat strawberries

3 Things I Think You Should Listen To
*My theme song
*Mommy makes me listen to this, and we dance
*Daddy likes this

3 Things I Think You Should Never Listen To
*Her
*Them
*Him

3 Absolute Favorite Foods
*Boobs
*Breastmilk
*Chi-chis

3 Beverages I Drink Regularly
*Mama's milk
*Mama's milk
*Mama's milk

3 Shows I Watched as a Kid
*X-Files with Mommy and Daddy
*Wallace and Gromit with Guthrie
*That's all - we don't have TV, just a DVD player

3 Babies I Tag
Julian
Cheraya
Zoe

I'm still here

I just haven't had anything interesting to say lately. Or at least I haven't had anything interesting to say at the same time that I've been at the computer and had both of my hands free to actually say it (or, as is the case, type it).

There have been some interesting comments lately by Karrie and Amanda, as well as Thordora about being a Mom-Who-Blogs-About-Her-Child(ren)-and-Mommyhood, and what group aforementioned Moms you fall into. While I certainly don't give this blog enough time or energy right now to really put myself into that Blogging Mama group, it has caused me to look back at life in general and try to see where I fit. And I've also seen that I may just be one of those moms, those moms who have thrown themselves so completely into being the best mom they could be that they've lost the real sense of themself. I think it's largely due to the mistakes I made with my daughter, mostly due to bad advice and not being confident enough in myself to do what I thought was right. (Well, that, and the deadbeat ex-husband who wouldn't get off his butt and get a job, which left me in the position of trying to be primary breadwinner, mom, wife, and actually use the full scholarship I'd earned.)

This is what I've been thinking about lately. I think it's why I'm so desperate to get back into school, to actually have the time to read a whole book (I have several scattered around that I glance over a page or two when I get a chance), and why it feels like such a thrill to get (!) to go to the grocery store by myself. My mom started asking me to give her ideas for Christmas, and the boys' sizes, and I realized I couldn't think of a single thing I want, just things I want for the kids, or for the family. Nothing just for me.

Except time. Time would be good. Time alone, time with my husband, time to try out a new recipe, or read a book, or lounge in a bath. Time to write in my journal, or write something here, or time to go check out a movie. Time. For Christmas, someone give me some time.

I love my babies, of course, but sometimes, I just want to look in the mirror and see JUDY again, not just "Mama."

I realize it's next to impossible right now, with a 4-month-old who won't even take a bottle and doesn't yet sleep through the night (and if he's anything like his brother, won't for a long damn time), but I have to remind myself that it will happen (as long as the IUD works. Please FSM let the IUD work!). And it will be here soon, too soon. As long as Judy stays in there somewhere, I'll revive her when I can.

It's just one of my fantasies right now, along with being able to shop for clothes without thinking about whether or not I can nurse in them, and being able to eat an entire pb&j without having to give up half of it to a 2-year-old.