Dear Jacob: September 2007

"So Mommy, what do you have going on tomorrow?" This is how you ask me about our plans for the next day. Then I tell you what's up and you pretend that you won't be able to go because you have a building site to go to. But we both know I'm going to drag your butt out to the playgroup whether you like it or not. And you usually end up liking it.

You're beginning to really notice gender differences. One night when I was getting you ready for bed, you pulled up your Bob pullup, then went for the nighttime pullup that we put over that. You paused to take notice of the pink ballet slippers adorning the outside of it. "Mommy? is this a gerwls' diaper?" you asked suspiciously. What do you care, I've been putting the 'girl version' on you anytime they were on sale since the beginning of your life. You couldn't really pinpoint why it was you thought it might be a girls' diaper and I didn't give you any clues. But they're getting to you, this media of ours.

The very next day we were driving down the road and out of nowhere you announced, "I think ladies don't want to work." It took all I had in me not to slam on the brakes in shock. The rest of the drive was spent in deep conversation about this topic. I asked you why you thought that, but again, you couldn't come up with the reason. This time I made a suggestion. I asked if maybe what gave you that impression was the fact that we go to a lot of playgroups during the day (when Daddy is at work) and you usually only see the moms there. I explained that the group we're in is not really an accurate representation of the population, that the moms we know are lucky that they get to stay home with their kids and that they do infact work, whether that work takes place at home, or if they leave the house to go to work, and that even if they don't have a 'job' that they get paid for, they still work their butts off ALL DAY LONG. I explained that some daddies are the ones who stay home, and told you that as we did our errands that afternoon I would point out all the women I saw working at jobs where they get paid. And at the end of the conversation, I'm pretty sure you were very sorry for ever having opened your mouth because you knew you'd never hear the end of it from me.

You're very interested in baseball now. It's rather funny to see you tune into any kind of media source when you see the slightest hint of baseball. The 'Ankees' is what you like, particularly Derek Jeter, who you can easily pick out of a crowd. I do believe your father has finally succeeded in brainwashing you. It is interesting though, seeing you and all the other little boys develop this passion for all things 'boy'. I was always interested in the development of gender and anxious to see with my own kids what was really true; whether we have innate gender roles our brains are programmed for, or if the actual programming happens after birth as a product of our culture. I still have no idea.

You seemed to have reached this new level of perception lately. You're taking into account outside factors and turning them around to apply them to any given situation you're in. I hope that makes sense. I can't think offhand of something to demonstrate that last statement of mine, but speaking of levels of perception - I was out for a little while yesterday and MamMa stayed at our house with you. When I got back I was given a full report, including the part about how you requested two scrambled eggs but when they were cooked you didn't want to eat them anymore. "MamMaaaaa. I didn't want you to tell Mommy about thaaaattttt." you intoned with your eyebrows raised in her direction. And we just looked at each other like, What?! Where did that come from? How does he know already about 'Omitting the Truth'? I consider this a step above actual lying because one would expect a child to simply lie about the eggs, but you had the morality factor in mind. There was something so oh-I-wanna-pinch-his-cheeks about it, that I almost felt bad for her having told me; As if a child smart enough to figure out a way around his mom's omniscent powers, then he certainly deserves to keep a secret or two. I think MamMa felt bad because she is so desperate to be as special to you as Papa is, that she probably would have kept it a secret if she'd previously known your desire.

It's TV season again. Daddy and I don't watch much TV anymore, but we do like three shows. The Gilmore Girls (our family favorite) ended last season, but we have the DVDs to watch whenever we want. LOST (which is the one show we can't share with you) won't start until January this season so we don't quite have to worry about that yet. And that leaves The Office. You saw a commercial for it a couple weeks ago and got so excited. You totally remembered it from last season. "It's cool that the office is on." You said the other night just after it had started. You told me you wanted to see the part where Jim put Andy's cell phone in the ceiling. I can't believe you remembered that, but I must admit that you have good taste because that was probably one of the best episodes of the whole series.

It was never our intention to get you addicted to adult programming, but since you're a night owl and we don't have tivo, let alone cable or the capability to record the show...well, that's how it happened. It's nice to see that there's still some little kid left in there as you go running from the room when a scary commercial comes on though.

People could claim that I shelter you too much, but the thing is that I don't aim to keep you in the dark about the world. I just want to control the way in which you're exposed to certain concepts, or at least be there when that exposure happens so I can explain it in a way I know you'll be able to synthesize. So even though it may not be orthodox, I guess watching The Office has become another one of those things you can place into your file folder of 'weird ways my mother educated me'.

Now, if we could only get you watching Seinfeld...

Confession

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been two nights now that I've given my child Benadryl at bedtime for his 'bug bites'. It is so very hard with his father gone from the house night and day. I need a break and it is quite difficult to last the while with him no longer napping.

Also, I found something that describes my husband.

"Sleep-talking by itself is harmless and the content should be taken lightly, however it can wake up others and cause them consternation—especially when misinterpreted as conscious speech by an observer...Sleep-talking can be monitored by a partner or by using an audio recording device."

It is so true about the consternation. We have entire conversations, of which he is not even aware. And I promise, Father, should I ever follow through with recording the night-rousings, I will be back for confession. I'll even play you the tape if you'd like.

This is your brain:

This is your brain in your hand:


This is your brain on the sidewalk outside the bedroom window.

And that is what happens when you have a mother who grew up partially in the 80's, and you tell her you want to jump out the second-story bedroom window and onto the bush down below.

Crochity, Cantankerous and Ornery

Meet the three dwarves they don't like to talk about.

Those are the words of the day. I didn't start using ornery on Jacob until later in the day when all my reserves of patience had been used up, but don't you know, once I did he repeated the word back to me perfectly. Now every time I tell him no to something he's gonna point and tell me to stop being ornery.

Early this morning Jacob and I were awoken by Stella pounding away on something metal in her back yard, for what purpose other than to wake us, I have no idea. When we went out to walk the dogs, she started to come over and I said to Jacob, loud enough for her to hear, "Look, it's the alarm clock lady." She didn't like that. She wanted her caulk back. I guess she'd asked Zach to caulk something for her the other day and he hadn't quite gotten around to it yet. She said, "That's the last time I'll ask him to do something for me." I want to believe she meant it like, the poor dear, he is so busy, I shan't trouble him like that. But I can't avoid the fact that it came out more like, rotten, ungrateful neighbors can't even help an old lady...

The she told me how the back neighbor mowed down the field behind her house for her and how she joked with him that if other people aren't going to help take care of it, then he'd better put up a no-trespassing sign. I laughed and started to walk away and Stella stopped me one more time. "Don't you pick up their crap?"

"Oh, well, if they go in the woods, like where no one walks then I don't, but if they go on someone's lawn..." I trailed off cuz she didn't look happy.

"Well where's your bag?" She demanded.

"Um...it's in my pocket." I lied and walked quickly away before she could see I was sorely lacking pockets.

I was so bleary-eyed from not yet having coffee that it took me a minute to realize by bringing up Zach's inaction in the caulking department, and the neighbor's activity in the mowing department, she was making a clear distinction - Us:Bad, Neighbors:Good. And when she joked about the no-trespassing sign, she was threatening me with expulsion from her land should my husband fail to be the fix-it man next time her roof starts leaking. Geeze, whatever happened to simply loaning a cup of sugar from time to time? She may be all of those words, but boy is she good.

The Creatures of This House, Part II

We had a rough weekend with Ginger. She was in a lot of pain on Saturday night - crying, whining, making odd noises, she couldn't get settled and wouldn't put her recovering leg down, or let you near it. We've been very careful about keeping Mango calm around Ginger so I knew nothing happened while we were around. The only thing I can figure was that it happened when I'd left the house earlier and shut the dogs off in a small room, taking the bed out so Mango couldn't tear it apart. So my guess is that maybe not having anything to piece apart, she took her aggression out on her Ginger, who of course wouldn't be able to get away. Now I have to put up two different make-shift barriers when we leave so the dogs will be separated.

I gave Ginger a dose of pain meds and waited an hour. Still in pain. I gave her another half does, tried to make her comfortable with heat and some of my alternative therapy modalities, then waited another hour. Still in pain. I called the emergency clinic and asked them a couple questions. It would be $150 if we brought her in, visit and injection combined. The woman didn't seem that concerned and we really can't afford that right now so after getting a positive response about giving more meds, I gave Ginger one more half dose. An hour later she appeared to finally be asleep. Sunday she just laid on the bed all day, only getting up twice to pee and still not using her leg. So today she went into our vet's office because I'd left a message there on Saturday night and they wanted to see her. We got the answer that we'd been expecting - that she must have just torn some of the muscle fibers, etc, etc, and it's pretty much normal, then she got a vaccine. $100 (insert flush noise).

I guess I should say 'Creature & Cars' because our vehicles have been giving us unexpected troubles also. Last night Zach called me to say he was leaving the place where he's painting and would be home in five minutes. He called back two minutes later asking me to come get him. I did and he tried to jump the van. We left. He got up at seven this morning to call AAA. They met him there and also had no luck jumping it. They towed it 1/8 of a mile down the road where the mechanic we go to just happens to be located. It got a new battery today. $100. The van is only three years old. It was also in the shop three weeks ago for a new valve of some kind. Before that, the civic was in the shop, and before that the van was in the shop a day prior to leaving for our cross-country trip. That four car repairs in less than four months. What the hell?

Anyway, enough complaining. Zach had to move his office last week to a new building on campus. This new office is twice the size, which means he has twice as much room for things. Things that can be taken out of my cluttered house and moved into his office. A very large, framed picture that was given to Zach a couple years ago has never had a place in our home because we don't have a wall big enough to hold it. There's a big fat wall for it in his new office. He told me he'd take it, along with the mini-fridge of mine from college that is also taking up space in the basement. That night while Zach was gone painting, I took Jacob downstairs (a huge undertaking on its own) and set to cleaning up the basement. I was also doing this in preparation for the delivery of our new washer and dryer that we had to buy because the old ones lived out their lives ($$$) - and don't forget about the waterbed that broke last month ($$$).

I was so motivated because I couldn't wait to get those two huge things out of the little basement. Well...it took a good twenty minutes to move all the crap out of the way in Zach's workshop to get to the picture. The glass was broken, badly. Great. On to the fridge. I got a picture of that one though. I will let it speak for itself.









Effing bunnies.

I got right on the glass thing and had a new piece cut the next day, but the thing is still sitting in my entry way because the van battery died and we didn't have another vehicle big enough to carry it to the college. The fridge is still in the middle of my kitchen floor.

Then there's Jacob, who has been an angel for a couple weeks. I think he's decided that he's ready for a new phase and is gradually introducing "I want to wig out" phase or something. Other than just being plain crazy at times, he's doing the thing where he starts to pee and then looks around at stuff. You know what happens then. The night in the basement, he took the bunnies water bottles off of their cages and emptied them out over the bunnies heads. What's up with that? It's sooo last year (as in a two year old thing to do). Whenever I stop giving Jacob attention, he likes to walk over to my computer and turn it off so that I lose whatever it is I was working on. It's those little passive-aggressive things that kill me. Hope this one doesn't last long...

Breezing into Autumn

Today is the first day of autumn and I didn't realize it until the day was half over. This morning I got up, got Jacob out of bed and got him ready to bring to my mom's. She and Jamie were taking him to church because the other day Jacob said something about "MamMa and Papa's church," and I was like, "Yeah, but it's our church too." Then it hit me how long it's been since I've even brought him there. There's just no time to fit something like that in right now, but I wanted Jacob to remain acquainted with church and I needed a break, so off he went.

I had no idea it would turn into an all day break. My mom checked in with me after church, and Jacob was great, they'd keep him at their house til they were ready to go do some work on the land where they'll soon be building a house. I really missed him, but I don't know, I was kind of calm and serene about the whole thing. I ended up staying at my mom's house after they left for church because the deck looked so nice and inviting all laid out before me with the sun bathing so warmly. I had stuff to read with me because I always have stuff to read with me, but after a while I decided I should get home and start justifying the time on my own.

I got home, fought with Zach about something, but amazingly we were able to actually talk it out instead of having it escalate. There was no little person at our feet demanding attention and pulling us in many directions. It was just us. I think there have probably only been a handful of times where Zach and I have actually been here at the house without Jacob. It really changes the way I see the house and everything. I don't know what it's like to be married to Zach, or even live in the same house with him, without Jacob at the center of everything. So we were both here doing our own things, but together, and it was nice. Weird though. Zach eventually left to go to the paint job he's been working on.

Then I was alone. In my own house. Halleluia.

I'd already checked in with my mom one or two more times. Jacob was fine. He was going to go to the land with them. It was really fine. I didn't need to feel guilty for being on my own. I didn't need to feel guilty for being on my own and not making miracles happen. And I didn't need to feel guilty for sending Jacob away on a day that I wasn't about to go out of my mind. He was having a great time and so were they. Of course I still feel guilty.

I cleaned, I cooked, I took care of the animals, did two more loads of laundry cuz Jacob peed the bed last night, but only after I announced, "Tomorrow I'll clean the bed sheets because Jacob hasn't peed the bed in a while, and I can't remember the last time I cleaned the sheets just because it was time and not because they were soaked with urine." So the universe can be forgiven for the little indiscretion, as I was already planning to do them anyway. So there.

I hung the laundry out to dry, uploaded a week's worth of pictures, tagged, titled and put them on flickr. I got back to some e-mails, updated my calendar, cleaned some more, mowed the lawn, raked the sticks from all over the back yard, took care of the rabbits again, folded laundry, and then sat down to write this. All the while I've been thinking and enjoying the peace and quiet. I've not been answering questions, had to repeat myself, yelled, had my ear talked away at all day. I think that's my favorite part of it, the silence. I get 'time to myself' now and then, but I'm either running errands, in the presence of other people, or in some other way in public. Even when it's a social call that's brought me away from Jacob, thus supposedly relaxing, I'm not alone. What I really need is to have alone time.

The day wouldn't have turned out so serene if I had been expecting it. And there's no way I could mimic this day if I tried to repeat it. I can't plan for days like this. They just happen to me when I lease expect them. The best things in my life happen unexpectedly (Jacob, for example); it's always been that way. I've been complaining lately that I have no freedom, that I am never unaccounted for, I always have to report to someone. Funny, that's the exact thing that seemed so scary to me when I was on my own. Now it's the thing I miss the most about my pre-baby life. So today I was at home all day, accouunted for, but I was alone. And maybe just to be alone in this house, which didn't exist for us until we came home from the hospital with a baby, is all I really need to remember the feeling of being free.

What is it lately with the creatures of this house?

Finally, Zach has seeded the back yard. He backed filled it with the dirt they dug out for the new basement, raked out the rocks, tilled it, covered it with topsoil from a local farm, seeded it and covered it with straw. Now the Waiting begins. The Waiting involves keeping the dogs and the children out of the backyard. This is easier said than done.

Actually, the children, or the Child, factor is not really a big deal. I just keep Jacob busy during the day, and when Zach is home and working on the backyard, Jacob is too. There's never a time when Jacob would turn down digging in the yard with Daddy for something else. And that's basically all he does - digs in the dirt for hours on end.

The dogs, however, are another story. Holy Hell do they ever miss their backyard. We didn't realize how much they love it until now that they can't go in it. Can you imagine the damage those two would cause with all the rumbling they do? So we're walking them like normal pet people. What a novel concept. When we're not walking them, they are sitting by the back door, looking out the glass, giving me that melancholy look. And when we're not home to see them being depressed over the temporary loss of their playground, they are tearing apart the house in revenge. Well, I assume it's Mango, and Mango alone who is taking out her wrath on the items of the house. I will now back up this statement with my current theory of Mango's destruction.

We got a new area rug for the new living room and put it down shortly after getting home from our trip. This is a nice rug (not the one in the picture below), the nicest one we've ever had and the dogs wholy agree! More recently I purchased a new dog bed to place near the new carpet to discourage the dogs from laying on the carpet, as they are wont to do. Somehow the bed ended up in our bedroom, at the foot of our bed, and Mango has taken to sleeping on it at night. So now instead of just having one dog bed to share, the dogs have assigned themselves ownership over the respective beds. Mango has surrendered the old dog bed to Ginger, but probably only because the new one is fluffier. So when I leave the house we block the dogs off in a strange way with random barriers to keep them contained. The bed goes in this spot, along with the many toys Mango has for the purpose of tearing apart. Instead of the toys though, she chews apart the bed. I haven't yet fully thought through what her sadistic reasoning could be behind chewing apart Ginger's bed, and not directing the assault at me, but I'm working on that. Perhaps she trying to dominate her mother and show who's the leader of the pack. Either that or she's just really, really pissed about losing her backyard.

Then there's the walking. I'm trying to walk them four times a day and no matter how often, or how long those walks are, when it's over the dogs are just at your feet again acting like their lives suck. Sometimes I walk one dog at a time because it's a very big undertaking to walk them both at the same time (and manage Jacob on whatever kind of wheeled toy he is trying to ride through the bumpy wooded area). The times when I walk them both at once it's usually because I can't decide who to take first. Ginger makes it clear by her uncharacteristically wild behavior at the front door that Going For a Walk is her sole pleasure in life and to leave her behind might crush her poor, dear heart. But if I leave Mango behind in favor of walking Ginger first, there will always be repercussions.

Actually walking them is a whole other matter. Ginger likes to dilly dally and sniff everything, while her daughter prefers to go as fast as possible, her attention always shifting between this and that. She's like the dog version of ADHD. Mango also likes to be the leader so that if ever Jacob speeds in front of her, she barks her head off and tries to bound ahead. If only I could get them both to compromise, then we'd be at a nice brisk walking pace instead of my arms being pulled apart by their opposing desires. And with the leashes - what's up with this? Why can't they just walk normal and not get all tangled? It seems simple enough to me: One dog on each side, leashes hanging from their collars with a clear path to the loop over my wrist. But no, they have to always be under foot, tripping me, tangling each others' legs with their leashes, getting caught up in the bushes.

If people with pets are supposed to have lower blood pressure, then I must be an exception to the rule.

A fine example of how I put way too much thought into things

So there's going to be a Bob the Builder exhibit at a museum that Danielle goes to a lot. We're trying to work it out for a weekend when both Zach and Steve (Danielle's husband) have off from work. Danielle tells me that she thinks the 'real live Bob' is only going to be there on the opening weekend of the exhibit, but she's not sure. So I get online to investigate. Turns out Bob will be there on each weekend of the exhibit until it closes months from now, but only the weekends. So that's good, we have quite a few weekends to choose from and we know Bob will be there. We're not going to rush to make a decision.

As the day goes on, I start to thinking you know, it might actually be easier for Steve and Zach to get time off during the week, since they both have whacked-out schedules. Then I get to thinking that maybe it would be better for Jacob anyway, maybe he doesn't need to meet Bob. He might not know what to do with that. I talk to a couple people about it, explain my thinking, continue letting the thoughts evolve in my head.

By the end of the day, I've got an entire theory about this one simple decision.

Have you ever heard of Cognitive Dissonance Theory? It states that when a person holds two different schemas about the world (or in Jacob's case, about himself), psychological tension arises. The person will either filter information so as to reduce the dissonance (when cognitions contradict), or create, in essence, a storyline to explain the conflicting realities.

Before I get to how this relates to Jacob and Bob the Builder, let me explain how I came to my theory. Jacob loves building things, construction, talking about going to job sites, etc. His new thing this past month or so is that he's going to build a house in our backyard. Jacob talks about it in detail on a daily basis. He informs me of when the lumber is going to be delivered, or he tells me that he's got to run to the hardware store for a part. He's talking the talk, yet, he's not 'walking the walk', if you know what I mean.

Jacob has such a vivid, vivid imagination, and he knows how to talk all about construction. He knows the names of a whole multitude of tools, know what they're for, basically he knows how to build a house. However, he's only three, remember? So he's lacking in the ability to build a house, the actual skills, height and strength to effect the outcome that he wants. You can imagine how troubling this may be to a little boy.

Backtracking for just a minute...Jacob never wants to go to any playgroups anymore, or any of the places we're going to see his friends. He's always telling me that he can't go to so-and-so's house because he's got a job to do. I've had a theory developing about that, but I was missing something. I was on the right track with thoughts about how he really does want to see his friends, but for some reason is afraid and needs to act like he's aloof. I thought it had to do with being shy and fearful that the other kids wouldn't accept him, kind of like 'laugh at yourself before others have a chance' - and it could be, but that's a discussion for another day.

So, bridging the gap, my mom tells me that Jacob was giving her an update on his house and she asked if he'd completed a certain part of it yet. "No!" Jacob said, "I can't get any work done on my house because Mommy keeps dragging me to all these Moms Clubs (playgroups, etc)!" Ahhh...so that's why he acts like he doesn't want to go, because on an unconscious level Jacob's psyche needs a storyline to explain why the house he's always talking about is not yet built. So what do you think - psychologically advanced child, or crazy mother?

Bringing it back to Bob, I fear that meeting this version of Jacob's hero might be somewhat of a disappointment to him. It might be kind of like finding out that Santa Clause is not real. There's the animated Bob that Jacob sees on TV and in books, and then there's the Bob that exists in Jacob's head. And no one but Jacob knows just what the latter version of Bob is like. The one we would meet in the museum is going to be a person in a Bob 'suit', probably isn't going to talk at all, and will have variations on many other aspects of the Bob that Jacob is familiar with. And I have no idea what this could do to him, although I have several outcomes in mind.

1) Jacob might be scared of Bob, as he often is of these characters. Will this permanently alter the relationship Jacob has with the Bob who exists in his mind? Will Jacob kick himself later for missing his 'big chance' and then come to believe that he chickened out?

2) Jacob might love the idea of meeting Bob in person. Would he then go up to Bob and start talking construction? When Bob has no idea what Jacob is talking about, much less not even speak, will this mess with Jacob's ego?

3) Jacob might not really give Bob much attention at all. But will Jacob see Bob interacting with all these other kids and realize they don't infact have a special relationship?

4) Jacob may love seeing Bob in person and meeting him will surpass Jacob's expectations.

Faced with these possibilities, what is a mother to do? Do we risk it and meet Bob? Do we decide against meeting Bob, and possibility deprive our child of what could have been a perfectly normal situation? Should we decide to meet Bob, do I prepare Jacob? Do I tell him ahead of time that this in not a real Bob? Do I let Jacob decide whether or not he wants to go on a day when Bob is there?

I'm just so afraid to screw up the happiness Jacob has going on in his own mind. I love his imagination. It brings me nothing but smiles, and occasional aggravation...

I've been avoiding it...

We so love our Nalgene water bottles. Even though I've been hearing for a long time now that they are not good for you, I tried to remain naive for as long as I could. I only had a vague idea of what it is about them - that when exposed to extreme temperatures, they leach 'chemicals'. Just what chemicals, and where they are going is what I was avoiding. I've been scouring the shelves at every kind of store for stainless steel water bottles, but I can't find them anywhere so I've been trying to hold out on realizing that we need to get rid of our Nalgenes. They are just so pretty with all the colors and choices...and they're not cheap, so to just toss them would be very painful.

Anyway, here's some links and a brief summary of what I've come up with in the last hour or so.

Detox Nalgene gives the best information in the most brief way.

Klean Kanteen, an alternative to the plastic bottles.

The Green Guide talks more about why they are bad, and states that #2 and #4 Nalgene bottles are available, but I can't find any information on the Nalgene website telling me which bottles are made from 2 and 4, versus #7 (=bad).

~ Most Nalgene water bottles are made from polycarbonate plastic, also known as #7. Polycarbonate plastic is made from bisphenol A, also known as BPA.

~ These containers leach endocrine-harming chemicals (in the form of BPA) into the water, thus your body, when exposed to extreme temperatures, but also just over time if the water is left in the bottle. Also, as the water bottle ages, the amount of chemicals it leaches grows.

~ #2, high-density polyethylene (HDPE), and #4, low-density polyethylene (LDPE) are the safer alternatives which don't leach BPA, if you can figure out which ones those are!

Wow...looks like I have to start figuring out our replacements. Detox Nalgene gives some helpful ideas as to what you can do with your old bottles (I do love storage containers!) which I've pasted below. If I've gotten any of this wrong, please feel free to correct me. I mean, don't say something like, "No, that's not true, they're completely safe." But if some of my details are off, go for it.

• Turn your Nalgene into a pen and pencil holder
• Loose change receptacle
• A new home for rubber bands and paper clips and other desk supplies
• Use if for a flower vase
• Turn your old Nalgene into a handy toiletries kit by placing smaller, sealed containers inside
• If you change the oil in your car yourself put the used motor oil in the Nalgene for transporting it to the proper disposal place
• Use it in a sculpture!
• Storage for random things, including: nails, screws, outlet adapters, etc

The Greatest Place on Earth

We call her Summer Glory
There's something for everyone!

A little canoing...

Some 'camera jousting'...

Napping in the hammock...And drunken campfires.I even took the time to be in a photo.Why not shoot off some fireworks?Then watch the moon rise.
Even the dogs had fun!Ginger got some hydrotherapy for her hip.

Jacob was thrilled with the water.

And I went ankle-deep in a natural
body of water (not our lake).

But wait, just a few nature pictures,
and one artsy one.

Seagull in flight

This ain't no swimming lake

Spider eggs.

Like I said, it was a long weekend...

Since then...

Holy crap, it's been like, what, almost two weeks since I've posted? I've never, in the history of this blog, spent that much time away from writing. There hasn't really been much time for blogging because I'm in a flurry again of trying to figure out a routine, but mostly I've been trying to stay sane. And I guess that means keep moving, reflect on things as little as possible, don't let the sadness and negativity swallow you whole. And to be honest, I've been trying to stay away from here because all I can seem to talk about is the baby thing. I don't want to write about only that. So I've been waiting for someone else noteworthy to come to the surface. In the meantime I go back and forth between thinking that I need to clear my plate to reduce my stress, but then realizing that it's those same activities which serve as my only distraction.

The days go by like always, one at a time, but it seems like when I look back on these days, they'll be measured in months, with each month broken down into weeks with differing levels of sanity. It's funny, my childhood I remember according to years, the college years are regarded in semesters of time, and then it seems like everything since has taken place in months. Months of pregnancy, months of your child's development, months of not being pregnant...but of course most of those months of at least the first year of Jacob's life are a crazy blur of new motherhood because I probably spent a lot of it in shock...I mean, in awe.

We went to camp again for the long Labor Day weekend, but even that fact alone didn't make things better. It was nice being there with a lot of my extended family. Sort of like a mini-reunion. We had lots of multi-generational fun sitting by the campfire being drunk and cooking lots of extravagant meals. I wish I could post some of those pictures but I never really got permission from those people, so I'll just post what I can in another blog. The weekend was just enough to get by but it was all downhill again when we got home.

Jacob and I stayed home all week, as I recall. I don't think we went anywhere or did anything. RARE. Of course on Friday I 'went to Vermont' and left Jacob behind with my mom and Jamie. Spending the day with them was probably the highlight of his week, and knowing that there was some 'light at the end of the week' was what got me through all the days prior.

I remember the most noteworthy thing that happened last week was that on our way home from Camp I saw, at different points, three random shoes by the side of the road. What is with this? Do you know how often I see this? And it's always one shoe, not a pair. Who loses their shoe out the car window? And how do you not notice this happening, that you shoe has just flown out of the car window? The last of the three shoes was when we were almost home, and so I've passed it sitting there, sad and lonely, in the shoulder at least a few more times. I wonder how long it will stay there, where it came from in the first place, and what it's owner is doing now. Is she at home, tearing her closet apart looking for her favorite shoe? And this is what I spend my time thinking about. If I was a psychic, I would target all my psychic abilities into solving these tiny mysteries.

Oh, here's something: Jacob started back up with gymnastics today! He mentioned it over the weekend and I checked in with him about it the next two days. Both times he was still gung ho, so I went ahead and called to sign him up for the very first class I could. The session just so happened to be starting this week, not that I wouldn't join in late. Instead of scheduling a late afternoon class so that Zach could come, I reverted back to our original time. We're going in the morning (I know, big risk for me) when there aren't tons of school-aged kids there and when Jacob favorite male teacher teaches the class. This will be much better. Jacob woke up this morning and ever so sweetly informed me that he decided he didn't want to go anymore. He really was so sweet about it that I wanted to give in, but I know he loves it and I had already had my heart set on it. A cell-phone pep-talk from Daddy on the way to gymnastics revived his joyous feelings, but then when we walked in the door, he was ready to go back home again. I had to go over to the floor with the class and for 10 minutes I felt like an idiot because he wouldn't participate. I thought the gymnastics people must think I'm crazy to keep bringing him back when it's the same stupid struggle each time. We keep going back though because when he loves it, he loves it, and because Jacob is the best kid there. Like we actually think he has a real ability for gymnastics.

Anyway, it ended well and all day long Jakie's been talking about how much fun he had and how he can't wait to go back. Score! This good mood probably has to do with the fact that I haven't been yelling, and that things in general have been going more smoothly the past couple days. Did I forget to mention that I got to gymnastics ON TIME - five minutes early, actually. And Danielle can attest to that because she passed me on the road while I was driving there, and the look of shock, let me tell you...

Mainly I think this has to do with the kitchen timer of my mom's she's been offering me for months. Instead of sitting there and saying, ok 10 more minutes cleaning such-and-such or five more minutes to write back to so-and-so, but then totally ignoring that when the time rolls around - the timer goes off and from somewhere deep within me this store of self-discipline arises. It's worked for a couple days, but I know I can't get cocky with it...I think there are rules that apply, like I must be under pressure in some way. I must have something I actually need to get to, but there also can't be so much on my plate that I can't breathe. And I don't know how much of a long-term solution it's going to be because the other part of getting to places on time means LEAVING THINGS AT HOME UNDONE. This means leaving messes behind, leaving the laundry in the basket, the mess on the floor, and not packing half of my possessions into the car when we leave. All of this I am uncomfortable with. I am uncomfortable all the time we are away from the house knowing that things are out of place. So I don't know for how many consecutive days I can let this un-comfort well up inside before I flip the lid and do something crazy like decide to clean the entire house of each dog hair ten minutes before I have to be at that appointment.

It's been nice with Jacob too. He has been so pleasant. I have been so pleasant. We've been so nice to each other. I don't think he's had a tantrum in three days. I've spent actual time with him, doing the things he likes. He does the things I ask without my having to yell. But I haven't been here. I haven't taken any photos in three days. I've hardly had time to read. I have only worked out once. So does being on time mean I have to sacrifice everything that defines who I am other than 'mom'?