so much for a comeback

Normally I don't lie. I don't really even like fibs. But I did lie. In a recent post about feeling stretched, I wrote...and I quote...

"Bear with me as I get myself back to normal and back to blogging."

Um...yeah, whatever.

Clearly, life is not back to "normal" (whatever that means) and I'm not back to blogging the way I want to be.

I feel terrible that I haven't popped in on all my friends and left fun comments in a long time - I miss you all and I miss our communication.

So, for now, I'll give what I can give. I have some exciting ventures on the horizon which I will share with you in further detail in the near future. However, I will tell you that the MOPS group I'm starting here in town is kicking into full swing (this is what would be eating away my free time) - and I'm really excited about it!

I am also seeing another passion of mine develop...cake decorating. You remember I did this for the redhead's 2nd birthday in October? (I even impressed myself!)


Well......I'm making another cake next month for my sister's baby shower. I've got the idea and with the help of my wondermous sister-in-law (who is the cake lady extraordinaire), I purchased some necessary supplies. She encouraged me to test my skills a bit further, so for this cake I will be entering the world of..............fondant. Oh yes, this should be good! Stay tuned for photos (coming the first week of March).

So, that's what's up with me in a nutshell. Hopefully I shall return in a fortnight to keep you abreast of the happenings!


Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day!

do you mind if i ask what you were smoking at the time?

Dear Jessica Alba,

While I don't consider myself big fan of yours, I've seen some of your work and I'll give you your props. I mean, acting isn't just a walk in the park I hear. And being in the media spotlight can't be all that fun either, what with cameras stuck in your face, rumors being spread about you, and kamikaze paparazzi stalking your every move.

You may not think you have a lot in common with me, but actually you do. For starters, we're both married and we both have cash - only yours is in the form of your real husband and millions in your bank account, and mine, well, let's just say I'm hard up to scrape together 4 quarters for the Sunday paper.

We are also both mothers and have both birthed children without surgical intervention. I know that each woman has her own birthing story special to her - some go without drugs, other choose them, some don't push for long, some push for hours, etc. However, most women do get to experience contractions, whether pitocin induced (like mine) or natural and this is wherein my issue with you lies.

I have already outed myself as a celebrity gossip devotee so that's neither here nor there. As I was reading People.com this morning, I saw a statement that intrigued me...

"What wasn't so tough for the Fantastic Four star? Surprisingly, childbirth itself." "Contractions aren't that bad," she (Alba) says. "If you've ever had bad cramps? That's what they're like. But that moment when they put the baby on your chest – that's deep. It's a deep experience."


Dear heart, I have had some bad cramps. Some really bad cramps. The "curl up in a ball I have taken seven million alleve and they didn't work so shoot me right now" kind of cramps. Lemme tell ya', they in no way touched childbirth contractions - and mine were pitocin induced with no drugs. My back was wracked with a mind-numbing pain and with each contraction I couldn't move. I felt nauseous, I got chills, I wanted to quit and I have an extremely high pain tolerance. I am no quitter.


Bad cramps my a**!


But you, you had to have been on something to say that contractions weren't that bad. Yep. That's the conclusion I'm coming to. But in the end, we both had the same result. We both had healthy babies and got to experience that deep moment where we looked into our babies eyes and knew that we were made for motherhood.



Best wishes with little Honor Marie. I'm sure you're a wonderful mother.


Sincerely,
Caroline

self-diagnosis

The redhead knows two languages. He's brilliant, what can I say?

I wish I could take credit for his academic prowess - we've spent hours reading books and discussing colors, numbers, and thoughts.

However, these two languages seem to be most commonly spoken amongst "his peeps".

The two languages I am referring to are English (in Big Boy Voice) and Whiny English.

The latter is what this post will focus on.

It seems this is his language of preference as of late. Even when I tell him to use his other language, he opts for Whiny English. He knows my disgust for all things whiny.

Unfortunately, he gets this language honest. In a way, he did learn it from me. I think it was imprinted on his genetic code upon conception just to get me back for speaking Whiny English to my mom when I was younger.

No matter where it came from, it must be nipped in the bud. I have no patience for such nonsense.

When Whiny English is spoken here, we tell the redhead to stop being a "whinypants" and to use his big boy voice.

The other night, redhead was taking a bath and assumed the normal position of laying on his tummy in the water. I had given him fair warning of the impending ceremonial draining of the water and expected him to comply. Notsomuch. He began whining and I began ignoring him and looking away. Several moments later, as he was still whining, I glanced at him and the only word that came out of his mouth was...............................

"whinypants".

I couldn't stifle my laughter.

If only we could use this amazing gift of self-diagnosis at more critical times. For instance, he could tell me, "mommy, pneumonia", or perhaps, "mommy, need antibiotics". Heck, we could quite possibly bypass the doctor's office altogether...and maybe save some money doing so.

At least he's got a good sense of humor.