I’ve spent almost my entire life wanting to talk about everything. I have no verbal filter and will frequently ask the most personal questions, or better yet, share the most personal information without thinking, except now. I suddenly don’t want to talk about the miscarriage, with anybody, (which makes you, faceless Internet, the perfect candidate).

There are times when I’m relieved that I’m not throwing up constantly, or gaining weight, or feeling so tired I want to cry. However, I also have moments when the thought that perhaps my chance for that third child is gone is heart breaking. I find myself constantly watching other mothers with three children or newborns and asking myself “do you wish that was you? are you glad that it isn’t?” Sometimes the answer I get is “whew, don’t want to go back to bottles, and throw up and sleepless nights” and other times I just ache. The emotions I feel are so awkwardly at odds with each other that it is just easier to not talk about it. When someone says “How are YOU doing?” it is just simpler to say “great” than “well, I’m not sure if I’m glad I’m not having a child or sad that I might never have another child”.

The other day Lucy asked me about the baby:

Lucy: Mommy, when is Halloween?
Me: Oh, several months from now
Lucy: before the baby comes right? because the baby is coming at Christmas
Me: No honey, I told you, God took the baby back to heaven. We don’t have a baby coming
Lucy: (incredulous) BUT I WANT A BABY! WHY ISN’T THE BABY COMING? YOU SAID IT WOULD COME AT CHRISTMAS TIME! YOU SAID IT!!!
Me: I know sweetheart, but God decided it wasn’t time for the baby to come to Earth yet
Lucy:WHEN WILL IT BE READY? WHEN WILL GOD SEND THE BABY BACK?
Me: I don’t know sweetheart, I just don’t know
Lucy: Hmm. (silence) I like Halloween Mommy.

And therein lies my peace. I like Halloween too and before that will be my birthday and there are several other things between now and when the baby would come to look forward to. I can’t make time hurry up. I wish I could. I wish I knew how to make heads or tails out of this situation but I can’t. I can tell myself a hundred times that I am okay but I’m not. But I do know that someday I will be – someday this will be clear to me — someday I’ll know the answers.

As many of you have realized the annual BlogHer Conference is currently being held in San Francisco. Most of our favorite bloggers have taken these past couple of days off to attend this conference and as a result we are all left reading our own pathetic attempts at being funny. (Okay, perhaps I’m the only pathetic one.) Well, a very lovely blogger named Pensieve, decided to host a blog-social of sorts for those of us who cannot afford to go to San Fran.

So, as I virtually “mix and mingle” I’d like to first say that you can find out more about me here. I’ve also included some thoughts on our favorite bloggers who are currently whoopin’ it up in San Fran.

Dooce
Let’s be honest, would she be funny if she DIDN’T use the f-word? Don’t get me wrong, I love Heather and I don’t even know her. She is the “Oprah of the Blogosphere” and without her none of us would think what we had to say was relevant. (is it? relevant? Hmmm.) Let’s all confess right now. We all secretly hate her because she’s skinny, she takes great photos, she has wonderful taste and she’s making a living off of her blog. If any of us were given the chance to change places we probably would. There, I’ve said it, and you know I’m right.

Mighty Girl
You can’t talk about Heather without talking about Maggie. I mean after all, they are the Matt Damon and Ben Affleck of the blogosphere. If Maggie were in town blogging she would be telling us about these wonderful heels that she found, or this fabulous food that she ate, or some strange person she watched on the bus. Oh, and there would be great photos to illustrate said observation.

Finslippy
Well, Alice just rounds out the pack. Sort of the George Clooney or Brad Pitt to the previous duo. But alas, poor Alice has had a tough year. She’s had a rough patch of writer’s block and then on top of it a miscarriage. Being a woman who has also recently experienced a miscarriage I do not have the heart to poke at her. I’m glad to see her returning to form and I’m sure she’ll have lots of new “Henry” material when she returns from her 2 week trip.

It’s great meeting y’all. Blog On Man – Blog On.

I’m proud to say that I received a “runner’s up” award for Scribbit’s July Write-Away contest. Michelle, (aka Scribbit) runs a monthly writing contest and this past month it was on Wonder Woman. This is the first time I have submitted anything I’ve written for actual wide-spread public consumption (and criticism) and I’m proud to have placed so well.

My prize? Why don’t you know I get a cool little banner to put on my site that says “I done won it”! Or something along those lines. I’m hoping I’ve made some new bloggy friends and I can’t wait to see what Michelle throws at us next month.

Welcome! If you are here it is either because you are related to me, or you have arrived here via Scribbit. I feel we should discuss some things before we enter into any kind of long-term reader/blogger relationship. It’s best that we’re honest up front – that way this won’t end up with us yelling at each other and you accusing me of not telling you about that nasty habit I have of eating ALL of the chocolate chip cookies.

What is your blog about?
Well, blogs are fundamentally narcissistic so obviously it is about me. I have a propensity to exaggerate and that is a characteristic that I inherited from my mother’s side of the family. I come from about 200 generations of exaggerators. My desire to embellish mixed with the fact that I think everything that happens to me must also be happening to everybody else makes me the ideal candidate to blog.

Are you serious?
No. As a blanket statement it is important that you know that I am NEVER serious. Sarcasm, irony and general lying are the arrows that I stow within my quiver of creativity. Along with obnoxiously flowered language.

Don’t you know people are dying? How can you be so trite?
Hmm, perhaps it is because I spend most of my day talking about why your birthday only comes once a year, why it isn’t a good idea to pull the cat’s tail and hitting and biting are not appropriate ways to show affection. When I’m not doing that I’m cleaning poop from either my children or the cat and then I get to correct misspellings from 18 year olds who think that doing research entails going to Google and typing “Shakespheres” (and yes, I spelled that wrong, because they spell it wrong). If I didn’t laugh and see the absurdity in the situation I would probably require several, simultaneous prescriptions for Prozac.

What is your favorite reality TV show?
Well, now you’ve caught me. I LOVE reality TV and I fully understand that it sits only marginally above tabloid newspapers on the spectrum of good taste. I used to watch the Real World, but once it went to Vegas and became soft-porn I gave it up. I have watched every season of Survivor and don’t anticipate missing any in the future. I’m also a big fan of Top Chef and am mourning the loss of the Bravo Network as part of my cable package. *sniffle*

Aren’t you an English professor? How can you watch such trash?
Hey, maybe I teach English, but I’m human aren’t I? Sheesh. You people have ridiculously high standards. To quote Jane Austen; “I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.” (see how I squeezed that in, in order to redeem myself?)

Since you do teach English should I expect perfect grammar in all of your posts?
NO!! I’m not a grammarian, I’m an English teacher. That means I spent my college days writing terrible poetry and dreaming about characters like Mr. Darcy and Heathcliffe. I couldn’t recite the rule on semi-colons if my life depended on it.

Did you know that you are scarring your children by doing any of the following; writing about them, feeding them junk food, allowing them to watch tv, or not sterilizing everything that enters their mouth?
Yes, I am painfully aware of it. However, I haven’t resorted to making them sell hard drugs or cracking a rolling pin over their head so I still have plenty of space to fall even further from the “perfect mom pedestal”. And by the way, don’t waste your time writing me to tell me that I should be reading to them more, not writing about them, feeding them organic, kosher meals or instructing them on the ways of the Force. I get the fact that I’m not a perfect parent and that some day my kids will resent me. Its cool.

I’m glad we got to clear the air. I’m happy you came to visit (or revisit) and I hope you continue to stick around. Things here ain’t pretty but they are usually good for a laugh.

When you are a child summer blows into your life like a welcome zephyr. It brings with it the promise of swimming, lemonade, bicycle rides and late nights spent in the humid air. It is endless days of no boundaries. As childhood fades so do those summers. There is no summer for the adult you. You work 365 days a year, in an air conditioned building, having arrived there in your air conditioned car, and the idea that summer is even happening disappears from your conscious. The months seem to bleed into each other with very few landmarks to indicate the passing of the year.

Becoming a parent (and for me, also a teacher) I get the chance to steal summer back. I’m fortunate, that although my summers are not as carefree as they were when I was 10, they do have an element of freedom that my full-time, working peers never get to experience. The idea that I don’t HAVE TO get up and go ANYWHERE or see ANYONE or do ANYTHING, is just lovely. We wake up and see how the mood strikes us; “lunch with dad?” Great. “reading circle at the library?” Fantastic. “Watching movies all day while mommy does laundry?” Loving it.

As mothers it is easy to complain about the noise and the chaos that reigns in the house during summer, but is that not what summer is all about? It is about spending all day in your bathing suit. It is eating watermelon off the rind with seeds. It is warm, overly sweet lemonade and even sweeter iced tea. It is sun tans and sun burns and sun screen and sun hats. It is embracing the hope that summer will never end. And as we look at our worn out, crabby from exhaustion, sun tanned children, lets hope it doesn’t end.

Shortly after the pregnancy test turns positive and those initial giddy moments fade you begin to make a list of all the things you will need for your new baby. There are hundreds of books instructing you and you are probably surrounded by friends and family telling you about the essential items required to care for a new baby. Let me provide you with a list of things you DON’T need. That is right, things that the baby industry will convince you that you need but in reality are a waste of your money. The baby gifts that will forever sit in your closet untouched.

1.) Diaper Genie (or similar item)

All new mothers think they need this. All new mothers feel this imaginary force field drawing them to buy this item. However, if you talk with any mother that has more than one child you will find that they don’t use it. Why? Well, unless your child is planning on pooping about only 4 times a day you will be changing the cartridge more than once (don’t believe the advertising that says 180 diapers – mine never held anything past 10 diapers and by that time it stunk so bad it didn’t matter if it could handle more). Oh, and those cartridges are not all that easy to change, and they are expensive, and if you don’t screw it tight enough your room still smells like poop. The easier, faster, cheaper and more convenient method that all mothers resort to is a TRASH CAN. That is right, a lovely trash can with a liner. I use leftover grocery bags. I take the poop diapers to the outside trash can and throw away the rest at the end of the day.

2.) Highchairs

Okay, I know some of you are going to be shocked that I put this on the list, but hear me out. Like most parents David and I purchased a large name brand highchair that had wheels with changeable trays, adjustable seat, blah, blah, blah. Well, we live in a rather modest sized house and this highchair became the albatross of my kitchen. It took up a huge amount of space, was always in the way and regardless of what the manufacturer says, it was a pain to clean. When we switched the kids to the booster seat I couldn’t help but think “why didn’t I just buy a really nice booster seat instead?”

3.) Bottle Sterilizer

Some of you may disagree with me on this one but I never had time to worry about sterilizing my bottles. Honestly, if they even got clean was a miracle and by the time Max came along I was just giving them a good rinse under the faucet and moving on. If, you actually have enough bottles in rotation to have some out of commission I suggest you use the dishwasher. It’s hot and it cleans things. I feel that I must also disclose that I am the kind of mother that picks pacifiers up off the ground, licks them, and puts them back in my kids’ mouth so, you be the judge. (I can only imagine the comments I’m going to receive on this one – so just in case you are thinking of calling CPS my children have never had an ear infection or an illness that required an antibiotic.)

4.) Infant Shoes

They are cute, and when you are pregnant you can’t wait for your little one to wear their first pair of Nikes, Vans, wingtips, hightops, high heels, whatever. However, they are the most useless thing on this Earth. An infant is no more capable of keeping shoes on their feet than they are capable of reciting the number for the babysitter. Within seconds of placing these absolutely adorable fashion items on your child, one — and only one — will be lost. Where? Oh, probably on the side of the road somewhere, in the grocery aisle, or underneath your car seat. ONE shoe, and only one shoe will be lost forever.

5.) Help During the First Four Weeks

Here is a secret that nobody tells new mothers. New babies sleep, almost exclusively for the first 2-4 weeks. As a matter of fact you are going to be rather disappointed that your little lump of flesh doesn’t do anything else. All that wonderful family assistance will be for not because you won’t need it. Just when you start to think that this whole baby thing is WAY EASIER than everybody says, and just as the door shuts on the last of the family help your baby will wake up. And when it wakes up it is MAD AS HELL!! It realizes that the whole womb thing was a good deal, and who thought of taking it out of the womb was a bad, bad person and oh, that person is you. Your little angel will now cry, and cry, and cry for a variety of reasons that you won’t be able to figure out until it’s 12 weeks old. In the meantime all your help is gone, your husband is back at work, your post-partum emotional dump has occurred and you are left exhausted, beaten down and wondering where all the help is. Here is my advice — ask Grandma to come back at 6 weeks.

And finally one gift every new mother could use – a gift certificate for new clothes. You won’t be able to fit into your old clothes, you’ll be sick of wearing your maternity clothes and you will feel too cheap, guilty and tired to spend money on new clothes.

My mother started this recipe (as all good recipes do), but with her Ukrainian background and general distaste for spices I thought it needed some improvement. Having lived in Texas for ten years now it is amazing how your taste buds begin to adjust to the idea of Mexican food EVERY SINGLE DAY. I love this recipe because it is easy and require very few ingredients.

2-3 cups shredded cheese
1 1/2 cups mixed frozen mexi-veggies (if you can’t find these feel free to use fresh diced, onions, green pepper, red pepper & drained black beans)
1 lb ground beef
1 lg can enchilada sauce
1 pkg corn tortillas
Sour Cream (optional)
shredded iceberg lettuce (optional)

Brown the ground beef in a skillet. Once fully cooked add the frozen veggies (or fresh) saute until cooked or thawed. Line the bottom of a lightly greased 8×8 pan with corn tortillas. I like to use kitchen shears to cut them in half and then make all the pieces fit.

Spread half the meat mixture on top of the tortillas. (I use a slotted spoon in order to avoid excess grease). Top the meat with a layer of cheese (use as much as you like). Repeat this layer ending with tortillas. So, your casserole should be; tortillas, meat, cheese, tortillas, meat, cheese, tortillas. Pour the can of enchilada sauce over the entire casserole until you’ve filled the 8×8 pan (Don’t pour so much that it overflows, but you get the idea). Top with remaining cheese (or to your liking). Place in an oven at 350 degrees for 20-30 minutes. Serve with sour cream and shredded lettuce on top.
Depending on the size of your family you may want to double this recipe and put it in a 9×13. Usually it is just David and I eating this (since Lucy’s palette is too delicate for Mexican food) and normally will last us two meals. Enjoy and let me know what you think!!

This is Micki and her husband Gavin. Micki is our nanny. Micki started watching our kids last summer and has returned this summer. Although she doesn’t have a British accent she is about as close to Mary Poppins as you are going to get. Her first day back this summer she arrived with a giant box of sidewalk chalk ( including the new 3-D Crayola kind). The next week she arrived with a giant inflatable pool for the kids. And oh let’s not forget the new reader books for Lucy, the trips to the movie theater and the multiple visits to our neighborhood pool. She also announced that during this coming school year she is teaching Lucy the periodic table of elements. Honestly, at times I think she’s a better mother than me.

Micki is more than just our nanny though she is my right hand, the person I can ask to do the little things that can be overwhelming for a working mom. You know, empty the dishwasher, throw in a load of clothes, clean out the toy box, etc. She is always bright, cheerful and for some reason never seems annoyed at Lucy’s whining or Max’s need to bite his sister every 15 minutes.

Micki is the kind of person who’s warm personality and easy nature belie the turbulent waters that run underneath. She has her socially required crazy mother, an absent father, a pack of small pets and the desire for her own children that would make my current desire for chocolate cake seem weak and pathetic. Micki is my friend. She listens to my daily rants, my worries, my anxieties and greets them with a gentle smile, a giggle and a gentle “I’m so sorry.”

Being a parent is challenging and rewarding. I love being a stay at home mom but for me, it is best that some of my time is spent out of the house. So, for about 15 hours a week my kids are treated to play time with Micki. The best thing a mother can have in her life is someone who can take care of her children and love them as much as she does. Micki loves my children, but most importantly my children love her.