Praise

I'm driving back home from The Toddler's gymnastics class with both kids. The Toddler is saying "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, can I watch my DVD at hoooooooome?"

#2 is crying because when we walked into gymnastics to drop The Toddler off, the maelstrom of children running around (never mind the "No Running in the Lobby" signs) and intermittently screaming (why, oh WHY do kids feel the need to do this? Oh wait, I feel the need to do that sometimes) has woken her out of her post-milk sleep, and she's been unable to fall back asleep.

I'm trying, fitfully, to listen to NPR and Tom Ashbrook discussing when/if HRC should back out of the race. All the time contemplating the mind-crushing tedium (see crayon conversation below) that is my life.

I pull up to a red light and stop. And hear from the back seat:

"Good Stopping, Mommy!"

I'd like to say that it made it all better -- it didn't -- but it did make me smile and feel good. Nothing like a little praise, genuinely given, to knock you out of your downward spiral. That and a mocha latte, a sunny day, and a good night's sleep.

**********

"Mommy? I need some crayons."

"You have lots of crayons in your bucket."

"But I need them to draw!"

"C. You have a bucket FULL of crayons. Go get them."

"Please? I need some crayons to draw."

"Listen. To. Me. Get your plastic bucket of crayons. You have plenty in there to draw with."

feet padding over to playroom. bucket of crayons rattling. feet padding back to me.

Smiling, hopeful face turned up to me: "Open this please?"

bucket opened, feet padding back to playroom. Ahh. peace.


10 minutes later, I realize I need to go make sure she's drawing on paper, something I can no longer count on after the birth of #2 and the Sharpie Incident of 2008.

Eyes Wide Open

quick catchup : we've had baby #2, she's 3.5 months old. Is primed to sleep through the night, and may in point of fact be doing so tonight.

So why the holy fuck am I awake? It's 12:30 AM.

I'll tell you why.

For 5 years now (The Toddler is now 4 years old) I've been posting on a forum with women I met on an infertility website. We "met" when we were all looking for others who had had a miscarriage or two and were still trying to conceive (TTC, in the lingo). Specifically, our little subgroup was TTC without the benefit of a blind faith in God. Or at least, the organized religion so creepily prevalent in the US and online in these infertility communities. You know the kind: "God had a reason for taking my baby" or "I have an angel in heaven".

We've all moved on to have at least one child per by now, and over the years have accumulated more miscarriages, a few siblings, and one deadbaby (baby who was born, lived about a week, and died). Let's just say that we're close in the way that only shared misfortune can accomplish.

Lately, the conversation on our forum has been peppered with political talk, as one would expect in an election year/era/epoch. One of our members is so in love with BO that she's been blinded to all else in that Cult of Personality way that I can imagine JFK brought out in his supporters back in the day. It's neat to see because she's not a US citizen (yet), but is so fired up about her candidate that she volunteers, standing out in the freezing weather to support him and exhort people to vote.

But, I misspoke. She only wants you to vote if you are a BO supporter. Otherwise, "just stay home". Oh, and if you're undecided, "just stay home". Don't mention HRC or you're likely to get some over the top bashing of the lady, with lashings of vitriol.

What's keeping me awake? Today this friend accused HRC of having "no morals/values". Having finally had enough of the anti-HRC comments, I asked her to refrain from the negativity. And got attacked for it. So now in true flashback to middle-school-just-been-bullied mode, I'm thinking of all sorts of things to say, points to make, and treatises to write on this subject. Interspersed with "go to sleep you stupid fuck, either you're going to be awake in 2 hours feeding a baby or you're wasting your first full night's sleep in 9 months." And yes, I'm counting the pregnancy get-up-to-pee-every-2-hours as broken sleep.

Parent-isms

The Toddler is in the bathroom, singing to herself "Dora, Dora, Dora, the Explorer!" It's 8:00, one hour past her bedtime, and 45 minutes past my patience.

I think she's going to be a supreme teenager. She's already got the blank look down. I told her last time I went to check on her that it was time for bed, that she was done, and I got The Look. I now understand the parental sentence "I'm going to wipe that look off your face". I feel I am mere years away from "stop that or I will give you something to cry about" and "because I Said So."

Double Lapsed

Yeah. I ran out of steam pretty quickly. It's something I do -- take on projects and get all excited and make the project huge and then. Just. Stop.

The Toddler is now 3, and we are now in New York! We've just made ourselves pregnant, so I find myself thinking to blog again. I think this time I'll have to make a regular schedule, maybe with an alarm in my Palm Pilot to remind me to post.

So, into the breach!