I Am (not) Canadian

But my husband is….

Happy Canada Day!

the thank you is priceless….

Mourning

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….

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.

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 ™ 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.

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.)

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.

Three is a magic number

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

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Jools
2. JuliaGulia
3. Mama

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
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.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
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.

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Peruvian
2. English
3. German

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
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.

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
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.

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
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.)

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE MUSICALS:
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).

THREE OF YOUR [sort of current] FAVORITE SONGS:
1. 1, 2, 3, 4 – Feist. Excellent song, whimsical voice.
2. See The World – Gomez
3. Tamacun – Rodrigo y Gabriela

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Honesty
2. Respect
3. mutual admiration

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS THAT YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE:
1. A 1967 Shelby Cobra Fastback Mustang
2. The Chrysler Building
3. Sand dunes

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Reading
2. Writing
3. Cooking

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
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

THREE CAREERS YOU’RE CONSIDERING:
1. I’m not considering. I am a writer.
2. And a mother.
3. Which is plenty, thank you very much.

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
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)

THREE KIDS NAMES YOU LIKE:
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

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
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.

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A CHICK:
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!

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
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.

THREE CELEB CRUSHES:
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.

See?

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.

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.

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