She Likes Purple

Molly continues to be the most dramatic one of us

A couple weeks before we left for Belize, we noticed that Molly was acting funny. Sleepier than usual, and her ears seemed to be bothering her (extra flapping, basically). It wasn't until she stopped eating, though, that we scheduled a vet appointment. I thought it might be another abcessed tooth (Google told me that in severe cases, those could cause ear infections), but for the first time in her life she was also having trouble making it through the night without having to use the bathroom. I was getting up at 3am then 4am then 5am to let her out. 

The vet did diagnose her with an ear infection and an additional eye thing and took blood to try and figure out the cause of the other symptoms, but basically said to give her whatever she would eat until the blood results came back. 

We gave her grilled chicken and steak and other things doused in beef stock and she was eating much better by the time our trip came around. The ear drops had cleared up her ear infections, too, so we felt good that while she was obviously getting older, she'd probably be back to almost-normal by the time we got back from our trip. 

Still, it was a scare, and we spent the first few days of our trip unwinding our nerves from everything that had happened the week before. One kind of hilarious story to share is that you may remember we made some friends during our time in Belize and for whatever reason, we got to talking about pets during one of our first nights gathered around the Portofino bar. We whipped out photos of Molly and gushed over her. We were still a little raw from worry, so we were probably extra gushy. For whatever reason, though, the subject changed and a few days later, back at the bar, we said something about Kyle and our new friends said, "We didn't realize you had a son! You wouldn't stop talking about your dog the other night, so we assumed she was it."

For anyone who worries we don't love our girl enough.

Once we were back, turned out the vet found something concerning in her original blood work and wanted to take more blood and run more tests. Blood work and tests that were not free, of course. Vet bills that started to add up to what our trip to Belize cost. Molly owes us some flight vouchers, FYI.

Eventually, thank everything, we got a diagnosis. Molly's got Addison's disease, which is something very treatable (but also very hard to diagnose without basically eliminating a bunch of other things, hence ALL THOSE PRICEY TESTS) with a once-a-month steroid shot and a daily pill. It's an adrenal deficiency, causing loss of appetite and lethargy and a slew of other things we saw. 

Within hours of her first treatment, she was the Molly we'd been missing for a while. She's back to being super obnoxious and needy (that's a good thing, swear it!). 

And when she ate all the fries off my plate the other night and I sent her to bed, she loosely translated that into "the comfy bed with all the blankets," which is a very Molly thing to do. 

Things to Do in Texas: Camp/Stay in an Air-Conditioned Cabin at Possum Kingdom Lake

I've been wanting to visit Big Bend for years. It's in Texas, but it's something like nine hours away from us. (Texas is just too big, my goodness.) Anyway, that's...a lot of hours in the car. That also makes it tough to get away for a weekend without taking time off work. Hey! We're here for three hours! Time to go now. When I was lamenting how unfair geography is, Mike told me to pick a place (much) closer to home for a weekend away, so I picked Possum Kingdom. 

Possum Kingdom is a glorious two hours away instead of nine, but it's also a place I'd never been, and I really love adding new pins to our wall map.

We originally planned to camp, but then we laughed at ourselves because camping in July in Texas is a really stupid decision. We instead stayed at the Hideaway Cabins, and it was a great, centrally located place. The cabins were clean and spacious and the staff could not have been nicer. I can't imagine ever going back and not staying there again. Really recommend.

We hiked nearby trails both mornings. Oh boy, the trails were awesome. If you like hiking, I'd recommend Possum Kingdom for the trails alone. Kyle was a freaking champ for both hikes and the one Saturday morning was long and hot. I don't know if I've ever been more proud of him, quite honestly. 

Oh, and we all enjoyed a three-hour nap after our Saturday morning hike. Hikes, you're my favorite.

We also made s'mores, swam at the lake, grilled dinner, introduced Kyle to Friends in our cabin's living room, drove around to explore and spotted ELEVEN deer (Kyle kept count), and just had a really wonderful weekend. And we brought Molly. It helped her forgive us for at least some of the trips we've taken in the last few years without her. 

Some pictures of our weekend:

Kyle cried when we had to leave, it was that nice of a weekend. The kind of weekend you hope to have when you plan for it.

Seven Quick (Jumping Back Into Blogging) Takes

I have vacation recaps to write and Pinterest projects to share and suggestions for where to eat in both DC and New Orleans, and I hope I get to all those posts before 2014. In the meantime, let's dust off this blog. Seven quick (okay, not quick at all) takes...

1. Last week (wait, week before last...April you are so nuts), Molly's eyes swelled up and got a little goopy. At first, we thought it was just allergies, but then we realized she had also stopped eating and wouldn't take a treat. (Molly is like her mother. She will always take a treat.) Turns out, she had a severely abscessed tooth that had infected her nasal passages and was causing her eyes to swell. She is, thankfully, nearly good as new after a round of antibiotics and pain killers and shouldn't need surgery. Phew!

It really sucked, though, during the time we weren't quite sure what was wrong with her. Molly is usually fairly healthy. I mean, she's given us a scare or two before, sure, but it had been awhile. It was this weird wake-up call that our girl is nearly 10 and she's not exactly facing more years ahead of her than are behind her. 

When the vet went over our options with Mike, she mentioned that if the antibiotics didn't work, surgery to remove the tooth would be necessary and it would be expensive (MANY THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS EXPENSIVE). We don't have a budget item for Very Expensive Pet Surgeries, but when Mike talked to me about it, it was just a given we'd figure it out. She's our girl.

She's a dog, yes, but she's also Molly. Molly! I've loved her for as long as I've loved Mike. While she can be pretty irritating on a day-to-day basis (she's the neediest living thing in my house), this was a reminder that she is absolutely part of our family. 

Again, she's feeling much better. She probably wishes she had pulled these shenanigans years ago because we've been giving her cheese on a nightly basis, and we don't protest at all when she worms her away into our bed at night. 

So many of my friends (online and off) sent out love to her, after I mentioned what was going on, and it meant the absolute world to me. Seriously, thank you so much if you were one of those people sending warm thoughts to our girl.

She's doing so much better, she's practically skipping.

2. Have I talked yet about Justified? Well, I fell down a Justified-sized hole on Amazon Prime a few weeks ago and basically watched the entire series in something like two weeks. You'd be disgusted if you weren't so impressed, right? (Or maybe you're just disgusted...)

At first I was hesitant to start this show because I was (foolishly) led to believe there are no love stories, and I'm a girl who really prefers her TV shows to have a love story or two. But, 1) there totally are and 2) who really cares when Timothy Olyphant is wearing that cowboy hat so well throughout the series.

I'm all caught up in time...to wait a year for the next season! Cable TV seasons routinely break my heart.

3. I hesitate to declare this here because I've been doing it for a WHOPPING two days, but I've finally started my 30-Day Shred Challenge. That would be 30-straight days of doing (level 1, I'm not insane) the 30-Day Shred. This is such a quick and effective work-out, and a few Twitter friends are tackling the challenge with me. Want to join us?

4. I read this beautiful post about Holly's grandmother who recently passed away, and besides being reminded that Holly talks about love and family and nostalgia better than anyone, I was also struck that I won't ever be able to write a similar post about either of my biological grandmothers. 

This makes me sad, on a basic that-kind-of-stings level, but right after that thought struck me, it occurred to me that Kyle will be able to write something that heartfelt one day (if writing becomes one of his things) about either of his grandmothers. Kyle is such a lucky boy, for a million reasons, but the relationship he has with both of his grandmas (Nana and Mia, as he calls them) is near the tippy-top of the list. I've said this before and I'll say it dozens more times, but the fact that he has this beautiful, special, unconditional thing with them both, something I never had, is one of my favorite ways we're rewriting history together.

5. This feels like a very silly thing to mention, but I am trying to fill a list here. I made some small edits to this site all on my very own, so I'm basically a web designer now (ha). I added new social media buttons, new "top post" pictures (right-hand sidebar), new links, etc. Just messing around a little bit, but enjoy if you...enjoy sidebar badges and those kinds of things. 

6. We're debating taking Kyle camping for the first time this year. We need to make this decision pretty much immediately because Texas is going to get really hot in about two weeks. We'd just drive up to Oklahoma for the night, no big deal, and I think Kyle would love it. I mean, he's in such a fun stage, where everything new is So! Much! Fun! Mike really likes camping, too, and I really like when they do outdoorsy stuff together and leave me in peace to read, so it kind of works out for all of us. Last time Mike and I went camping, there was a burn ban, so we "camped" while eating dinner in nearby restaurants. That felt a little fraudy. Anyway, I'll keep you posted on our camping plans as I'm sure you're on the edge of your "WILL THEY CAMP?" seats. 

7. Speaking of Kyle, age four has been a lot of fun so far. I loved age two (so much), and still loved age three (though will readily admit that, oh boy, do you have to pay attention when parenting a three year old--they will take a mile if you give them half a centimeter), so I was a little nervous about age four. But, regardless how hard age four can be (friends start to mightily influence other four year olds, unfortunately, wiping away ALL MY HARD PARENTING WORK IN ONE AFTERNOON), the age is just so HILARIOUS. He says the funniest damn things. He has said in the course of a week, "Slip me some skin, Mommy," and "Oh phooey! Phooey is my new word, Mommy." He spells words and can read a little bit and I'm amazed anew that I get to hang out with this kid. He's my son! It's very delightful every time I remember that.

I've figured out that babies just aren't my jam. I love babies! I especially love snuggling your babies and just...passing them back to you when they show the slightest sign of being unhappy about something. But toddlers? Then kids? Oh yeah. They're my speed. 

I remember when Kyle was between one and two, maybe 15-16 months or so, and the weekends were kind of brutal. One, Mike worked weekends back then so it was just my boy and me, filling up two straight days, and I'd be so relieved by Sunday evening, which is a hard thing to confess. I was just so exhausted and he wasn't quite talking yet but he needed EVERYTHING and I couldn't sit until he went to bed. Now, we watch The Voice and he helps me cook and he makes me laugh EVERY SINGLE DAY and he asks me questions about geography and dinosaurs and stuff I really like answering. So much better than angry pointing, like he did back when.

Anyway, the other day he was looking at a picture of my mom and me from when I was in college and if there's ever a picture of me that he's not in, he assumes he was in my tummy. "Is that when I was in your belly?" "No, actually, that was before you were in my belly. That was even before I knew daddy!" He did not understand. He looked at me like I was nuts. Before him? BEFORE? No such thing. He finally said, "Oh, I must have been sleeping."

He walked off, cool kid that he is, with his hands in his pockets, and I thought to myself: I'm just so glad you showed up.

I'm so glad we're here.

Conversations

You know what I wasn't really expecting from age three? I wasn't expecting to have conversations with Kyle like he's just another person I speak to in the course of my day. Which sounds ridiculous, I know, especially considering how often I spoke to three year olds before Kyle. But, still, the conversations have caught me by surprise. For example, while I'm brushing my teeth in the morning, Kyle will yell from his room about not being able to find a particular jacket he wants to wear and then I'll hear him mumble under his breath, "I thought it was right here." What is that? That's something a PERSON would say, a person with thoughts and opinions and memories completely apart from me. It's mind-blowing in an almost better way than the first steps and first words and first other things were.

I'll say, "Let's go to Target, we need hummus and paper towels and..." "I think we need juice, too." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, I think we're out." LIKE HE'S JUST A PERSON, WHO NOTICES OUR JUICE LEVELS.

I was always more excited about having a child than I was about having a baby, if I'm being totally straight with you. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE BABIES. I love holding babies and buying things for babies and throwing baby showers and...handing babies back to their mothers. Give me a KID, that's more my speed. Still, I'm just repeatedly shocked, stunned, floored by how cool it is to have an actual conversation about football or Thanksgiving or new shoes with a person I MADE. I made him! And now I'm giving him an abbreviated story of the first Thanksgiving (minus all the plagues and deaths and stuff) and while I tell him about it, HE NODS. HE NODS AND RETAINS THE INFORMATION.

He's in this phase where he's starting to hear words I don't want him to repeat. Words like dumb and chubby (Tangled, what's up with the use of THAT?) and stupid and other words I just don't want him to use so flippantly and without thought. So, we tell him these words aren't nice or sweet and we should try to choose other words. Somehow, this has made him hesitant to use ANY word he's unfamiliar with. "Mommy, can I say the word...spectacular?" I just...the brain of a three year old. Guys, it's THE BEST THING EVER. (Also, yes. You can call your mother spectacular.)

Speaking of Tangled, we watched it this weekend for the first time and I loved the paper lanterns. You may remember we did this in Vieques (and nearly set the entire island on fire) and I've bought some to let go in our backyard for my 31st birthday. So, when we watched Tangled I said, "Oh, I want to do that for my birthday!" and when we watched the movie for a second time, Kyle turned to me when they first lit the lanterns and said, "Mommy, we're going to do that for your birthday. It's going to be beautiful."

We were getting groceries out of the car just tonight and Molly wandered out of the yard (AS SHE DOES) and Kyle said, "Oh, Molly! Get out of the street. Mom, she's in the street again." He was just potty-trained THIS YEAR and now he's rolling his eyes at Molly's disobedience WITH US. It's something else. It's really something else.

He's such a person, and I know this isn't NEWS and I'm not the first mother on earth to raise a baby into a person, but I have to tell you, there is the Grand Canyon and the Pyramids and Arches National Park (which literally caught my breath in my throat) and the Northern Lights and democracy and all those lions-and-puppies-as-friends YouTube videos and then there's having a real conversation with your child.

Miracles, all of them.

Kyle, YOU are spectacular.

Aging Grumpily

As Molly's gotten older, she's become...how do I say this...without causing shock...and disgust...an asshole. That probably still causes some shock and disgust, doesn't it? We still love her! Of course! She's our girl, always will be, but she's just constantly (metaphorically) flipping us off these days. 

For instance, if we leave a bag of food or candy on the counter, she'll get in that shit. She used to do this and, no lie, hide the bags and wrappers under her dog bed. We'd eventually find them and she'd run for the opposite side of the house or, no kidding, put herself in time-out. Now, we walk into our bedroom and it's like a Halloween troll broke in and raided the joint. Candy wrappers strewn about the room and Molly kind of looks at us like, "What? That stuff was delicious and I don't even care what happens next." 

When we tell her to get off the couch for whatever reason, she'll lift her head and give us a look like, "You'll have to physically make me. Sorry I'm not sorry." 

We joke that she's realizing she has more life behind her than in front (she's nine, not exactly ancient but not exactly a puppy either), and she's grabbing life by the horns, tattooing YOLO on her paw, etc.

It's hilarious, actually. Molly was such a nervous, rule-abiding dog for years. In college, we'd let her out in the front yard and she'd sit there for hours, sunning on the sidewalk, napping in the grass. She'd never run away or walk farther than the mailbox. Now, when I let her out to check the mail with me, I have to pull her in from sniffing the plants outside our fence. She's gotten petulant, basically.

Except, you know, she's still this good with the boy we brought home nearly four years ago and totally ruined her life with. 

Although as Rebecca said when I posted this on Instagram, she looks so long-suffering here. Always dramatic, that dog of ours.

I Had Forgotten

I found this email I sent Kyle on March 25, 2009. He had just hit seven weeks old the day before.

You make this adorable noise after you sneeze. I know you won't always make this noise and I already miss it, even though you still do it. It's my favorite sound in all the world.

I don't think he made that noise much longer after March 25th. I had forgotten all about it, quite honestly, until I read this email tonight. (Technically last night, once this posts.) But, shit, did I vividly hear it after reading.

What if I hadn't written it down? Never remembering that noise seems like such a cruel joke. Don't give us these beautiful things, life, if we won't remember them in three short years.

Write them down, life whispers back. Put them in a safe place. Visit that place often.

Damn, that noise was cute.

Seven-ish week-old Kyle, because this blog was never cuter than when there were baby pictures on it. 

(Molly is so pissed at me for that last line right now.)

Easter Happened A Long Time Again, I Know

I imagine if this weren't my blog, I wouldn't be able to get away with recapping Easter over a week after it happened, but this is my blog, thank goodness. (Well, thank goodness depending on who you ask.)

Anyway (and hilariously) the Easter brunch and egg hunt we hosted at our house was Kyle's FOURTH egg hunt of the year. It became so ridiculous that whenever I'd cheerfully tell him he'd get to see Nana (my mom) on Easter, he'd look at me, confused, and say, "But...we already had Easter." Like, wait a second, I don't get to see her for A YEAR? I DO NOT ACCEPT THAT.

It was a small group, just the three of us, my mom, and Kristie and Jackson. Small but sweet. We had brunch -- with mimosas because my house, my champagne-centric traditions, YOU ARE NOT SURPRISED -- and then let the boys loose in our backyard to find the eggs Mike painstakingly hid.

Yeah. They found all 75+ in, no kidding, three minutes.

Molly was pissed that she got nothing. That's pretty much been Molly's default emotion since Kyle's birth.

Then we brought out the four-wheeler for the boys because we expected the hunt to take longer than the length of your average commercial break.

Oh, and we got a family photo (with all four of us, see Molly we do still love you) for the first time since last Easter.

(Oof, come on beach vacation tan! Also, yes, Kyle's tongue is out. AGE THREE, MAN. It's weird.)

So, yes, we had a great Easter this year and then we all took naps. I hope yours was just as booze-, chocolate-, fun-, and nap-filled.

Roadtrip Details!

Blue was the drive there. Red was the drive home.

There being Gateway, Colorado, where we stayed for two nights to celebrate Mike's cousin getting married. All about the resort and what we did while there for another post. But, today, THE ROADTRIP!

Day 1

We stopped in Amarillo for lunch (we got burgers to-go from Coyote Bluff), made a quick stop at Cadillac Ranch and then got to Santa Fe around 6 pm or so. Each time we'd stop for gas or a bathroom break or at a rest stop to let Molly stretch her legs, Kyle would clap his hands and say, "WE MADE IT! WE'RE HERE!" Oh, sweet sweet boy, if we ever take you on vacation to a Texaco in far West Texas, go ahead and retract our Parents of the Year award.

Also, upon spotting mountains in New Mexico, Kyle said, "What IS that, Mommy?" with wide eyes. "Oh nothing, just beautiful landscape you'll rarely get to see because we're raising you a Texan, but our housing costs are really reasonable!"

Day 2

We got an early start (and a lot of coffee) and drove up through Colorado. Durango was beautiful, the mountains were spectacular, and the roads ... curvy. We all got a little queasy. Kyle got a lot queasy and puked all over himself and then needed a quick cuddle in the back seat before we continued on.

Poor guy.

We got to Gateway about 4 pm, after driving up through the beautiful canyons of Western Colorado.

Day 4

After breakfast in Gateway, we drove up and into Utah where there were no public bathrooms for many, many miles. MANY MILES IN ALL CAPS EVEN. I was reaching the point of having to either pee my own pants or pee on the side of the road. The GPS/Smart Phone wasn't being very helpful, either, to tell us where the next restroom might be, so it was getting pretty bad. (And I have an impressive bladder, you should know! I can hold it for Olympic-like times.) Finally, I made Mike pull over and I pulled my pants down on the side of the highway (on the other side of the car, of course), ass out for all of Utah to see. Desperate times and all. I got back in the car and Kyle said, "Daddy saw your butt, Mommy." Not the first time, son. Not even the first time in public.

We spent most of the afternoon in Arches National Park and, wow, if you ever doubt America is spectacularly beautiful country, go there immediately. It'll leave you speechless. Mike and I talked about  one day returning to camp overnight, when Kyle's older. It was my favorite part of the trip, I think. Just looking out on this vast world, where everywhere you turn is another postcard view. I loved it.

We left and drove through Moab and into New Mexico, to try and make it to the Four Corners before sunset. A storm and curvy roads slowed us down, so we missed it by five minutes and hadn't planned anywhere to stay. (Yeah. That caused the first and only fight of the trip, I can't lie.)

We ended up in Farmington, N.M., at a random Best Western. I fell asleep within five minutes of laying down.

Day 5

We got up and backtracked to the Four Corners where I kept yelling, "KYLE'S IN UTAH! WE'RE IN COLORADO! OH NO!" He looked at me, at one point, and said, "Mommy, no yelling." Oh, he's in for a world of disappointment if that's how he prefers it.

We then drove to Shiprock ... Rock? I don't even know what it's called! It was a sight Mike really wanted to see, and it was pretty cool, admittedly, this jutting rock in an otherwise flat land. Molly got to run around as far as she wanted, and she was fairly pleased. See:

From there we drove to Albuquerque through Gallup and then drove and drove and drove to Roswell, convinced it would be a funky little town with quirky people and places. No offense to anyone who lives or loves Roswell, but it was the most ordinary town I've ever set foot in. A local suggested we eat at Golden Corral when I asked where a tourist should stop to eat. Yelp! suggested Denny's.

We left, skipping dinner and not looking back, and we drove and drove and drove some more. The drive out of dodge (Roswell) and into Texas was actually kind of wonderful. Just today I read a piece in Grantland, an oral history of Friday Night Lights (and you know how much I love this show by now), and in it Sarah Aubrey, an executive producer of the show, spoke about one of the final scenes they filmed: "The sky is that only-in-Texas pink sky as the sun is starting to set." I choked up because, well, yes. I know that sky. It sounds funny, to say the sky is different in Texas, but it's just about my favorite part of the entire state. The sky alone has kept me here, at times, I think, and it welcomed us back home after days away. We grumble about the weather and a million other things but when we crossed that state line, we both smiled, we couldn't hide it.

We got home, late late late, and I thought Kyle would refuse his bed, pitch a fit and demand to sleep with us, after so many nights of sharing a room in multiple hotels. But, I laid him down, he looked at me and said, "Turn off the lights, Mommy."

So, I did.

One family vacation behind us. Many more ahead, I hope.

Miles & Miles

2460 miles, to be exact.

Our family roadtrip is over, sadly. Well, sadly for my heart but not-so-sadly for my ass. 2400+ miles of car sitting is serious(ly painful) business.

Anyway, I have 15 separate posts I want to write inspired by the trip but, sadly, a full inbox waits for no woman (to post blogs). I also leave again this coming Tuesday morning for a work trip to Comic-Con (that's not an oxymoron, I swear) so the posts may be spaced out.

Over many years.

The trip was unexpectedly fantastic, though. I knew we should go, for many reasons, but I wasn't prepared for how much I'd enjoy it. All that driving and cheap-motel-staying and toddler-entertaining and gas-station-food-eating and mile-marker counting sounds a little awful, right? And that's before I mention we took Molly with us. OUR CRAZY, TIGHTLY WOUND DOG. On a road trip for thousands of miles! I don't really understand us either. I emailed Jonna just today and said, basically, that this is why we can't have more children. Because we come up with ideas that drive us all mad. Beautifully mad, sure, but mad all the same. It really was exhausting -- on Thursday night, I laid next to Kyle around 8:30 pm to rub his back as he fell asleep and I woke up ten hours later, no recollection of how that had happened --  but it was also incredible, seeing so much of the beautiful states we visited and spending so much of that time just us four. Turns out, I really like my family. No matter how many times I said through clenched teeth, "OMG STOP WHINING RIGHT THIS INSTANT."

No matter how many family members I said this to.

(More than one!)

Here are just a few photos, from our whirlwind travels, and 500 more will be put up on Flickr before 2012. Also, look forward to the future trip-related post that will include the story of how I got naked in public. Oh, don't act so surprised.

To Catch You Up

(In list form, to give you the foolish impression this post is cohesive, when it totally isn't.)

1. So, I caved and flipped on the tv this week. IT WAS GLORIOUS, BY THE WAY. Apparently my breaking point is sacrificing The Bachelorette because going without tv was harder than all the days without meat or cheese or chocolate or booze combined. My whole idea behind doing away with my DVR queue was to read more, to meet that goal of reading 25 books this year, and I realized quickly I just need to turn off the tv more often, instead of never turning it on. Never turning it on is depressing, and no one should voluntarily be depressed.

2. Kyle's officially in a full-size bed. I'd be sobbing over my baby no longer being a baby if it weren't kind of nice to read bedtime stories while laying in a new bed instead of uncomfortably sitting cross-legged on the floor. He'll also occasionally request for Molly to sleep with him, until about a half-hour later when he screams for me to come take her away, she won't stop moving, "GET OFF MOLLY." Oh that poor, poor dog.

3. Hey, speaking of Molly's endless supply of patience, we've given Kyle his first chores around the house, aside from picking up after himself and helping me with the dishes (which he loves, don't feel badly for him). Every day he has to put up his shoes and feed Molly, and he takes a lot of pride in these tasks while also taking his sweet, toddler-loving time with them. So, Molly just sits there, waiting for him to scoop up enough food for her before dropping it into her dish, which could take entire minutes. She just sits there, staring at me like, "HAVE YOU NOT TORTURED ME ENOUGH, WOMAN." I swear, it's shocking that dog doesn't constantly chew my good shoes or pee all over my pillow.

4. I recently found Barnivore, a great site for vegan-friendly booze. You are welcome, if you ever find yourself in a similar Crazy Vegan Situation.

5. The Dallas Mavericks won the NBA Championship, I'm sure you heard. I want to be really thrilled about this because it's exciting! Go Mavs! We were the underdogs and Dirk seems like a really decent (albeit unattractive) man! But. Yeah. I'm just not a basketball fan. I was happy to see them win, sure, although by "see them win" you do realize I mean "realize they won when my Facebook feed erupted in exclamation points"?

6. I re-discovered Kelly Willis the other night, a Texas country artist I used to listen to a lot in high school and college. One of her songs, "Not Forgotten You," was perhaps THE song I got over my first love to, and as I stumbled upon it in a random way, I couldn't believe it had been over ten years since I wore out my CD playing this song on repeat. It took me right back. What break-up/moving-on song is like that for you?

7. My son is cute, let me show you.

8. It is so hot in Texas. I complain my way through every summer (and, admittedly, every winter), and I know it's annoying, but it's also just so miserable. The other day I picked Kyle up from school, and we had to run to the store. As we got out of the car, I said, "Ugh, it's hot," and Kyle said, "GO AWAY SUN! IT'S TOO HOT!" I was proud, I can't lie. 

9. I've signed up for the Rock N Roll Las Vegas half-marathon, this December, so we'll be traveling to Vegas for that. It falls a month before my 30th birthday, so we're combining the two celebration-worthy events and while I'm really excited (I'm one of those people who falls very much into the I Love Vegas camp), I also think it'll be quite the interesting trip. The first two days will be all run, run, run, sleep, sleep, sleep and the last two days will be all I AM GOING TO BE THIRTY HAND ME THAT BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE. My body is going to be drastically flip-flopping between "I am so proud of you!" and "YOU ARE FIRED!" But, hey, if you are looking to run a half-marathon down a neon-lit strip at night and then celebrate with lots of bubbles, come join me!

10. Kyle calls umbrellas "kites" and, yes, I did die of the cuteness the first time he did this, if you're wondering.

My Little Guy

Oh, hey, how adorable is my blond-headed little guy?

(We don't often encourage the licking of one's fingers after Molly licks them around our house, but, you know, it was a Friday evening, after a long week. Judgment-free zone, k?!)

BUT, SO ADORABLE, RIGHT?

I am sometimes surprised when people don't fall all over themselves to talk about Kyle and how smart and perfect and cute he is. I'm all BUT HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? And then I remind myself that the way I think of that random kid in Target who totally cut me off and won't stop randomly hollering about pretzels is probably how most people think of Kyle. I am his mother. It's probably a good thing if I'm the one who thinks he's the coolest of them all, you know? (Oh, and I totally do.) 

There is something to be said, though, about becoming a mother in that I surprisingly don't love children, in general, any more than I used to. Oh, there are some kids I think hang the moon and love being around, and I'd babysit any of my friend's kiddos any day of the week, but my own child hasn't made me anything other than his mom.

I'm not this all-perfect, maternal person now. I'm just this normal, kind-of-messed-up woman who has a son she looks at every single day and thinks, Well, someone sure thought highly of me, didn't they? To give me you.

I don't think I'm alone in thinking that about my own kid. I also don't think I'm the first person to be right.

Fake Easter

We celebrated Easter (early) this past weekend. We did it low-key with a backyard plastic egg hunt and a quick and easy brunch with my mom and Mike's parents. The weather was perfect, the food delicious, the company warm and fuzzy, and my son's mind properly blown by all those eggs being his. When he realized there was stuff inside them? Forget it. Easter took first place of all days.

We snapped a couple family photos since we have so few.

This is the winner.

But the outtake is more accurate.

The rest of the fake Easter celebration pictures are here.

It was a happy and sunny day. I'm glad it was mine.

(Didn't hurt that we had mimosas in the fancy champagne glasses.)

A boy and his dog

Years ago Mike, Molly, and I went camping (before this blog was born, even), and while there we went for a hike. They were both ahead of me, Mike holding Molly's leash, and I took a picture as they walked.

"A boy and his dog," I said to myself, and I thought that'd be a great name for a novel. I filed that working title into my brain folder named "Maybe One Day."

I was reminded of that title, that old picture, that memory this weekend.

Kyle doesn't particularly like dogs, which shocks the hell out of me.

But it actually makes the fact that he likes ours that much sweeter.

And while she'd never, ever, ever admit it, I think she likes him too. Even if only because he feeds her even after I've told him not to.

July Recap

July was batshit insane.

Which is par for the course with us.

(Seems I kind of like it that way. Mike wishes I didn't.)

I flew to Portland. I flew to San Diego. I squeezed in some runs where I could. I lost a writing gig. I gained perspective. I connected, I ate, I lounged on the couch and watched old Veronica Mars episodes and new True Blood ones.

I played with my son. (And finally cut his too-long hair.)

I sipped wine under the hot sun and held my husband's hand.

I realized that true friends leave out guilt from conversations and they instead insist on encouragement. (I guess learning this at 28 is better than learning it at 29 or any year thereafter.)

Molly turned seven, and she's still our favorite dog on earth. (She's Kyle's favorite anything on earth.)

I have big plans for August and those plans include slowing the hell down (right after I take a quick trip to NYC for BlogHer). I'll also be taking Kyle to swim lessons, organizing my kitchen, cooking at home way more than I did in July (since we're not eating out this month), putting my feelers out for a new writing gig I can be passionate about, and running as often as I can since my 10K is next month.

Maybe we'll throw a party. Maybe we won't.

Some other things I'd like to do: finally learn to poach a damn egg, go to a concert, not melt into a puddle during Texas' hottest month, read three books, bake, dance with Kyle, and kiss my husband for no reason other than I still like kissing him.

Kyle's a dream, my husband's such a decent human being I'm constantly inspired by him, my house is usually in shambles but it's still a pretty happy place to be, and I am thankful everyday for air conditioning, my son's grandparents, Netflix, and the Food Network.

Life is sweet.

Here's to August.

Mid-month update

This month I had a few goals: get our budget under control, get our dirty house under control, give up chocolate, give up snapping at people I care about and participate in the 29 Days of Giving exercise I've mentioned before.

New goal: make it to May.

I've done well on some things, not so well on others (uh, such as The Snapping). It is entirely unnatural of me to push forward and try harder the next week/next month when I feel I haven't done my best on something. It's unnatural to dust myself off and start over. I call it my Pass the Cupcake pattern, which sounds delicious, but it is really just metaphorically indicative of how I get when I slip up: my instinct is to say "ah, fuck it, pass the cupcake."

If I've done anything this year that I am proud of, even more than that 5K, it's dusting myself off and trying harder the next day/week/month.

Instead of saying screw it, I'm going to try harder the rest of the month.

***

Mike starts a new(ish) shift this week, and it's going to make running in the evenings nearly impossible. Unless I leave Kyle home alone, and although Molly is pretty attentive, I'm afraid she'd use that free time to exact her revenge for all the times he's stuck his finger in her eye.

So, I'm debating running in the mornings. 

I'm not a morning person. I feel good after I work out in the mornings, and it sets me up for a great day, but getting out of bed and into running shoes at 6 a.m. (when I'd need to get up) is about 10x harder than going out for a run after work. I'm a night person, always have been, but the thought of only running weekends bums me out.

Not that you can provide much more than, "Just get your ass out of bed already," I know, but if you do have morning work-out advice, I'd gladly take it.

***

Why does he look 15 here?

I think he was telling me about the unfairness of not having free access to Mike's fish tank. Or that he wanted more animal crackers. His tangents all sound the same.

***

Happy week, kids. I'm making this Caesar spaghetti at some point, which looks delicious, and am having dinner at Taverna for a co-worker, which thrills me to no end because, check out that menu, and I'm not footing the bill. So, week's highlights are all about food. No one should be surprised.

Post-Christmas

Hey, first things first, take a look in the sidebar! Where my 2010 list lives. See how one item already has a nice, straight line crossed through it? AND IT'S STILL 2009? That would be me kicking ass, my friends. Although, thankfully none of you actually tasted the cinnamon buns I made from scratch Christmas morning because if you had, you'd be far less likely to pat me on the back for my achievement. As I was cleaning up the kitchen (for the 87th time in three days, my lord cooking makes a mess), I asked Mike, "Will you eat these if I save them?" and he didn't answer, which is how I know he doesn't want to answer and also doesn't want to lie and can't think of a non-lie, won't-start-a-fight response quick enough. He just says nothing at all in hopes I'll forget I asked him a question in the first place, which never happens, I AM A WOMAN, YOU KNOW. I asked again and he said (very noncommittally), "Uh, whatever." I asked again, and he said, "No, they weren't so good. Sorry, babe." And he was right. I either did something wrong or....no, that would be the only thing that could have happened, come to think of it.

 

(Other updates from this post, as in what I cooked and how it came out, can be found in my flickr stream. In case you don't feel like clicking through: the cinnamon buns were the only non-delicious part of our Christmas menu, thank goodness.)

Other than the food, we really did have a great holiday break, although things kicked off with Kyle getting bronchitis, and if you've ever been sent home from the pediatrician with a nebulizer in order to administer breathing treatments on your not-yet-year-old baby*, you know that's no way to ring in Christmas Day, MY GOD, THE HEART, IT BREAKS.

 

He was still a champ (he always is), so the hacking cough and raging fever couldn't quite keep him (nor his hair) down.

He even managed a smile or two.

And....other emotions, as well.

 

(He's crying because he now plays this new game called Throw All His Food Off His High Chair To Watch Molly Eat It. He thinks it's a great game, and who the hell am I to try and break him of this behavior when it keeps him 1) occupied while I do the dishes or (more likely) 2) entertained while I watch old 90210 episodes. But when all the food has been thrown, and he has nothing left to throw, THE WORLD ENDS OMG. Really, THIS is the kind of face you make when you're out of food to feed something else, child? I hope you channel that giving nature into taking awesome care of your mom one day.)

We also bought a car over the break and, yeah, that's even bigger than bronchitis, perhaps I should have led with it, but I'm still in a bit of shock about it. As you may remember, we definitely NEEDED a new car since the old one stopped reversing and, yes, you are allowed to laugh now, we realize it's kind of a funny thing to go wrong with a car, but it's less funny when you're the one driving the damn, non-reversing thing. So, we got a new one. Just like that. (Although NOT just like that, of course, as there was plenty of stressing and test-driving and crunching numbers and warnings of YOU CANNOT BUY ANYTHING ELSE UNTIL FOREVER PLUS A WEEK, GOT THAT?), but we have a new car. One that reverses. Phew.

Let's end on a snowier note, though, just because I'm still not over that we had a white Christmas Kyle's first Christmas. IN TEXAS.

 

(Front of our house, from the icy street.)

I hope your holidays were filled with all good things, and I thank you for joining me in 2009.

*I get to call him a baby until he at least turns one. GIVE ME THIS NEXT MONTH.

*************

At Style Lush today, I'm asking you to share your favorite holiday gift with us, so go answer.

*************

Don't forget to comment on this post (and pass the post along, if you would). I'm hoping to take a check to Jonathan's Place the second weekend of January, and I'd just love to mention how many people helped bring it there.

This post is like a Lady Gaga outfit: Strange but maybe a little fun, too.

Since a few of you have asked, Kyle is (well, until the next plague descends) feeling much better. There's this silly little thing parents do -- well, there's this silly little thing I do, as a parent -- that consists of wringing my hands like a crazy person each time we hit a speed bump, as if this less desirable phase is going to be The Way Things Stay Forever and Ever, Shoot Me Now. Regression -- whether by sickness or teething or growing pains or exhaustion or WHAT-THE-HELL-EVER -- is a tricky mind game, and it's hard to see past it. Sure, I logically know (uh, in hindsight) that the flu or a stomach virus or teething or Kyle just being an all-around grouchopotamus isn't a brand new normal, but it's hard not to let my cynical mind go there at times, like when he's screaming his head off at 2 a.m. or throwing his pacifier at my face at 4 a.m.

Then, we pass through the shitty stage and move on to smiles and laughs and long nights of sleep, and I am reminded how I sometimes desperately fail at perspective because after 27 years you'd think I'd have figured out by now that life is not a straight line at all, it's a back-and-forth, two-steps-forward, eighteen-steps-backward kind of dance. Nothing lasts very long, not even the flu/cold season.

So, yes, he's doing lots better. Let me show you!:

 

In his Pink Floyd t-shirt, making his papa proud.

I took more pictures of him over the weekend. You can see them all here.

***************

Also over the weekend I hosted a champagne and cake party with my friend Kristie. We had champagne (shocking!) and Sprinkles cupcakes and lots of ladies all gathered in my 1300-square-foot house, laughing and sipping and politely ignoring my child screaming from his room. (Nothing says PARTY! like a screaming baby, don't you agree?) But, really, we had a nice time.

My motivation for throwing the party was just celebrating friendships in general. When I first began dating Mike I let nearly everything else important in my life fall by the wayside. Grades, friends, my sorority, my job, so on and sadly so forth. About six months in, something shifted, and I missed who I was (and who I had) before Mike. Taking a renewed interest in my life improved my relationship with him. (Win-win!) So, I'm now a pretty big advocate for women having strong friendships outside of their marriage or relationship. You can never have too many people in your corner, so pick funny, smart, confident, supportive women and spend time with them.

With champagne and carbs. Hard to top that.

***************

I invited a couple of those women to see New Moon with me this weekend, too, so I wouldn't have to see it alone. The movie was great, in a really-horribly-acted-and-super-duper-cheesy way. Those are the best kinds, aren't they? It's like the feature film equivalent to One Tree Hill or Dawson's Creek or anything that's ever aired on MTV. I found myself clapping and groaning and laughing and loving every minute. 

You should go see it, too.

***************

Mike and I have one ongoing, headache-inducing fight, and it's all about me. Oh, that's fun, isn't it! To be the cause of frustration in my marriage! I think I shall add that skill of mine to my resume. Need to drive your husband insane, give me a call, I'm an expert! See, I tend to abandon household tasks half-way through completing them. For example, I toss my shoes off when I walk in the door instead of taking them to our room. I tend to wash all the dishes except the pots and those pots sit in the kitchen sink for a week before someone (uh, not me) stomps around and puts them away. I fold the clothes but abandon the sock pairing. I...well, you get it, don't you? I'm pretty spectacularly awful at follow-through, that's the point of this, and it drives Mike to pull his hair out and drink and call me names (OK, he doesn't actually call me names BUT I BET HE WANTS TO).

The root of the problem is (hopefully) my attention span and not my sheer laziness. I get distracted easily and regular chores suffer. Mike also happens to be ridiculously weird about things like this and where it may not bother the average person, it REALLY, REALLY, OH-MY-HELL-WOMAN-GET-YOUR-SHIT-TOGETHER bothers him.

I feel like I do so much around the house and for our family that a rogue pair of shoes or a dirty pot or a random pair of socks shouldn't stress anyone out. You should still buy me flowers daily because I'm awesome. Awesome people totally leave the lights on in every room in the house. YES THEY DO.

But, well, I love my husband and this really, really bothers my husband, and so I'd like to take a stab at fixing this, so perhaps my husband could go back to really, really loving me in return. Is there another way to remember to do all these things other than just, um, REMEMBERING? Because if I could just remember to do them, well, we would not be on the fourth paragraph of my marital issues, would we? No, we would not.

Do you perhaps suffer from this disorder too, this I Am So Busy and Important I Routinely Forget to Finish Simple, Ordinary Tasks disorder? Do you have a way to control this disorder? Would you like to share your wisdom with me? I think my husband would send you a thank you note in appreciation, and he never sends thank you notes for anything, ever, unless I write it and then have him sign it.

************

This weekend, Kyle also crawled with his belly off the floor for the first time. He's become quite the army crawling expert and I wasn't sure he'd ever lift that pudge up to crawl like regular babies crawl, but then mid-champagne-and-cake party, he did it! And I teared up! And then I captured it again the next day. See!:

 

***************

Molly's still here, too. This is her put-upon face. The face I've seen regularly for the last 9 months. Don't feel too badly for her, she enjoyed an entire box of Pepperidge Farm cookies after our champagne-and-cake party, when we left her alone with them for hours. I can't really blame her, but I sure don't feel quite as eager to let her on our bed as I was the day before.

 

***************

I hope you have a very short work week and will be enjoying food and family and Black Friday sales in no time. We have some good things up at Style Lush this week (like this HANDMADE advent calendar, OMG) in honor of the holiday and shopping spirit and festiveness, so go enjoy.

Happy Turkey Week to you and yours.

Seven months

Dear Kyle,

The months are zipping by at warp speed. Just when I finish writing you one letter, it's time to write another. Yet, there's still so much to say, so many ways in which you're different than you were last month, last week, last night.

This was the month of the Very Scary Incident that happened to you and me, well, to you, but I was there watching in horror, and I'm the only one who will remember, so to us. Because of this Incident, you have been placed on a somewhat-strict all-baby-food diet until your first birthday, and I've already made a mental note to plan that first-year appointment before that first-year party, so you can partake in the ridiculous tradition of being presented with a sugary treat you haven't a clue what to do with, but will shove in your mouth like you shove everything else -- my phone, the remote, Molly.

This was also the month a very Epic Cold and Cough descended upon our family. Not swine flu, although I had us all tested for that more than once -- your mother responds to the news just as CNN hopes all Americans would respond to it, with deep and ridiculous paranoia -- but just your average cold with a side of sinus infection for me, ear infection for you and THE WORLD IS ENDING for your father, who handles being sick the way Dick Cheney handles a gun: very, very poorly. In fact, the only member of our clan who handled the sickness in stride was you. You were the only one who continued to sleep just fine, eat just fine, smile just fine, play just fine, look adorable just fine. While we moaned and complained and did half-ass jobs of keeping things afloat, you rolled with it all, a snotty, coughing mess, but just fine.

You're already the coolest one of us, and I don't think that would stun a single person who knows you.

You began army crawling/belly scooting this month -- although more than one person pointed out that what you do is absolutely not crawling, hate to break the news to you ROSY-EYED MOTHER, although I say if you're MOBILE and getting into your DIAPER BAG and FLINGING those diapers across the room, crawling is a fine label. It's not that I wanted you to crawl at barely seven-months old. I very much liked being able to leave you anywhere and know that the worst that would happen was a minor meltdown or a tongue bath courtesy of Molly. Now, I have to be aware and attentive and, my god, I can hardly believe this job doesn't come with some type of compensation. Obama, add that to the list.

You also sit up and stand with our very-needed assistance these days. Or with the cocktail ottoman's assistance, whichever is most handy. You have started drinking out of a sippy cup. You prefer corn over squash and bananas over apples. You love when I clap! Oh, man, you can be having one of those meltdowns, the kind where you singe my eyebrows with the decibels you reach, and all I have to do is clap merrily and you're all, HA! HAAAAA! I LOVE LIFE! DO IT AGAIN! You say da-da-da-da-da-da over and over, hours on end, but you direct it at no one, and you are definitely not SAYING da-da to your actual da-da, but HOO-BOY does your da-da sure enjoy thinking you are. If you say it on your changing table, DIRECTING IT AT THE WALL, he'll come running in the room. "He's calling me! What's up buddy, what do you need?" When he calls while I'm home with you and hears you in the background, he'll say, "Aw, he knows it's me!" And he sure likes to think you say da-da because you prefer him, which is why I have kicked him so much this month, Kyle. Sorry about all that domestic abuse we've already exposed you to.

What's more, this is the month we found a new day care and a new pediatrician and THANK SWEET JESUS, we like both. You probably thought we were just the most indecisive bunch of crazies you've ever met with the way we've schlepped you to a new facility and new doctor every couple of months. It really does take a village to raise a child, and we just wanted our village to consist of awesome, cool people who didn't routinely suck or make your ears bleed.

You do this thing, and just like that adorable little sound you used to make after you sneezed, I imagine this will change as you grow, so I really want to remember this thing you do. Whenever you're tired, you open and close your hands on whatever surface you can find: my arm, my leg, the couch, Mr. Pup. I think it's the repetitive motion that soothes you, and while one hand is doing that, the other is playing with your ear. This is what you do, every day and night, when you're ready for a nap or bed. I'm so glad you can sooth yourself, although I really can't take credit for your ability to do so, it happened so randomly and haphazardly, but when I watch you start to get sleepy and start stretching that hand of yours out and in, out and in, I know my favorite time of day is about to start. Not the going-to-sleep part, although that's nice, too, I won't lie, but the sleepy-baby part. As most parents can attest, the sleepy baby brings on the cuddly baby and that's the very Best Baby of All. You curl into me as I carry you to your room and that walk, with you gripping me tighter then you ever do during the day when you're all WOUND UP! and GOING GOING GOING! and LET ME REACH FOR THIS AND THAT AND GIMME GIMME GIMME!, that walk is why I became a mother. Every day I'm reminded again and again.

The other day, your day care teachers wrote a note on your send-home sheet that said you seemed hungry after your bottle. You cried when they took it away and you just wanted to suck on the empty bottle and shake it around when they gave it back to you, and I laughed and said, "Oh, no. He just likes to play with it! He's not still hungry. It's just this thing he does." For a very long time when people would ask me questions about you I'd look at them like, "Huh, yeah, no fucking clue the answer to that, sorry." Babies are just such hard nuts to crack! And what's really annoying is they keep changing on you and just when you think you have this ONE THING figured out BAM POW they totally school you. It's so humbling and aggravating and when people would ask, "Oh is that his hungry cry?" Or, "Is he just gassy or fussy?" Or "Why on earth does he do THAT?" I'd look them square in the face and say, "YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE, SO HERE, TAKE A STAB AT IT." You're not born with all the knowledge one baby requires and that's hard on a new mom. I don't know what he wants! I don't know what to do! MY GOD, SIX-WEEK OLD, USE YOUR WORDS! And, then, somehow, someway, we get to know these babies of ours. We're able to start answering the questions and filling in the blanks for confused strangers and we're able to laugh off the quirks other people don't get with a simple, "Oh, that's just something he does." And we're not guessing as much any more because we get it, we know, we're the mamas.

Yes, now I know you well, and more than anything else I ever want you to know, there's this: I absolutely, unconditionally love who you are.

 

I love you, Buds.

Your Mama

Around our house

We've officially been living in our new home for over a month now, but you'd think we just moved in yesterday. Or maybe this morning. Moving was such a slow process and unpacking has proven even slower. After I put Kyle to bed each night, there are very few things that can lure me off the couch and unpacking the "Important Documents" box sure isn't one of them. So, we did what any certifiably insane couple would do in our positions: we planned our housewarming party for two weeks from yesterday! We thought it would be the perfect motivation to finally get us off our asses. Looking back, it seems it was the perfect motivation to finally push us over the edge.

With this decision, though, I hope to slowly take more and more pictures of the new house to share with you. Like this one!

 

We call our decorating style: Lazy-ass Parents Who Have Better Things to Spend Their Money on Than Mops!

In reality, Mike was fixing some crazy too-short dishwasher cord thingamajig and I plopped Kyle next to him so I could take a shower. I gave Kyle one toy and apparently put it just out of his reach like the qualified, capable mother I pride myself on being. Molly was in the other room and I forced her off her blanket and into the kitchen for this family photo op. She wasn't thrilled.

The laundry is just a photo bonus! I think it adds a certain something to our kitchen, don't you?

If you are coming to our housewarming party, there will be alcohol provided so if the laundry is still there and the floor is still dirty, you'll have forgotten in no time!

My girl

Many of you have asked me, through comments or emails, how Molly has handled the transition from only child to OH MY GOD, DOG, IF YOU BARK ONE MORE TIME AND WAKE THE BABY, SO HELP ME, I WILL GIVE YOU AWAY ON THE CORNER. Truthfully, she's handled the transition well. She's handled it so well, in fact, it makes my guilt reach new levels. She has never once growled or shown any hostility toward Kyle. She creeps up to him, daily, so she can steal a quick lick on his hand or sniff his sweet head and then she trots off to remember the good ole days. She listened to him scream as Mike and I did, from day one, and it never made her anxious or crazy, and she has never -- not once! -- acted out through chewing or having accidents or doing anything but being the well-behaved, smart and sweet dog we've always known her to be.

In our old house -- as I shared with you here via poorly-shot video -- we taught Molly how to go in and out of the house by herself. As long as we were home and the back door was unlocked, she could come and go as she pleased, and during Kyle's first couple months, that came to be the one freedom we gave her that she'll always be eternally grateful for. When Kyle would scream (and scream AND SCREAM SOME MORE, OH MY LORD) she'd slowly walk, with her head down, outside and stayed there until everyone's skin stopped melting off.

I mention above that talking about how good Molly has been makes me feel guilty, and that doesn't even scratch the surface. When I was in the throes of what I can now identify as a very normal yet still very hard couple months of post-partum depression, I used to yell at Molly a lot. I didn't want to yell at Kyle, although sometimes I did. I didn't want to yell at Mike, although sometimes I did, so I tried to direct all my anger and frustration and raw emotions at Molly. For one, she listened so well. And when I would scream at her to JUST STOP BARKING, she would. Kyle didn't respond as well when I would beg him to sleep. Ungrateful child. Anyway, she would run off to her bed and wish for a new mom, but she'd do it in silence. I couldn't control very much back then, including my own emotions, so I controlled my poor dog.

I know that every mother has a very different post-birth experience, and when I talk (a bit too openly, perhaps?) about my own, my goal is not to make other moms feel guilty for having a better one. My goal is to tell my story, the way I remember it. Not the entire story, not even half the story, but an honest part. It's the only way I know how to tell it at all. So, when I look back on that time now, I'm finally able (thank god) to see the beautiful parts, the sweet parts, the parts I completely disregarded and ignored at the time, because I was too exhausted and immersed in a vat of STRESS to see clearly at all.

I still can't forgive myself for how I treated Molly those two months, though. All I wanted was for the baby to sleep, and even though my kid can sleep through fireworks and Mama dropping things and both his parents LOSING THEIR SHIT while watching Wipeout, he cannot sleep through Molly barking. He's been woken more times by her than by anything else, and I can only equate how I responded to him crying moments after she starts barking AT THE DAMN DOORBELL ON TV is the scene in "Marley and Me" when Jennifer Aniston finally collapses onto the bed after getting her kids to nap and right then is when the trash guy decides to drive up to the house. You can see her praying for the dog to just NOT BARK, JUST THIS ONCE, but the dog freaks right the hell out and Jennifer's character goes one step further and LOSES HER MIND COMPLETELY. For the most part, that's what I did with Molly every day for two straight months.

So, many of you have asked how Molly has handled the transition from family of three to family of four, and I've been hesitant to answer because answering that question includes also saying this: she's not only handled her new little brother's existence perfectly, she's handled her mom's meltdowns pretty perfectly, too.

When I was pregnant, I threw up a lot. If you're new here, let me say what I've said so many times before, I THREW UP ON MYSELF WHEN I WAS PREGNANT. That's honest-to-god, losing-your-dignity sick. Mike was as supportive as he could be, but when women talk about how often their husbands would hold their hair back as they lost their lunch EVERY DAMN DAY, I can't help but wonder ... why, exactly? I mean, I love my husband's support, don't get me wrong, but I wouldn't let him in that bathroom with me very often. Did our marriage really need to be put through the will-you-still-love-me-as-I-throw-up-my-pizza test? But Molly would sit in the bathroom with me every single time I'd get sick. She'd sit quietly and close and she'd only start wagging her tail as I'd splash water on my face.

Someone once said that Molly is not my baby, she's my dog. I'm not her mom, I'm her master. We talked it over, the commenter and I, and agreed to disagree. See, I pieced something together a couple months back, and it's one of the reasons my guilt wraps itself around me every now and then and squeezes. Molly doesn't bark when I come home from work or when I come home from dinner with a friend and Mike is home with Kyle. She only barks when I am home alone. She may love her father more -- um, who could blame her -- but she's protective of me. She knows I need more than he does. She knows I'm scared of more than he is. She gets me, completely, and she loves me all the same. She's not just my dog. No way, no how.

While we're gone this week, my girl will turn six. She'll be with her grandparents, and she'll be spoiled rotten, just as she'd prefer it. On her birthday, on every day, I hope she knows I love her, even though I don't always act like it, even though most days she deserves a mama who treats her like the perfect sidekick she is.