Running Up That [Long, Terrifying, Steep, Huge] Hill

After about two months of research and ridiculous indecisiveness, I finally gave in and bought a new stroller, the Bob Revolution for two. It is huge and has giant wheels, but that makes it very easy to push and steer and navigate. And now I can go running with the girls.

I know. It seems crazy. But I have been longing to transition from treadmill runner to outdoor runner for a while. I know this isn’t going to be easy. But I am going to do it, dammit, and the girls are going to do it with me.

We (weird to say) went running for the first time today in Central Park yesterday. Here’s how outdoor running is different from treadmill running:

• There are real hills, not “inclines.” Central Park is filled with these annoying hills in size, small, medium, and are you kidding me, and there is no button to make them smaller. Believe me, I looked. Running uphill is murder, for obvious reasons. But running downhill, much to my chagrin, is not much easier. I thought that I would just sort of roll-glide to the bottom of a downward slope. Instead, I found myself gaining speed a little too quickly and then needing to apply downhill body brakes, which causes me to access muscles I don’t usually use.
• There are many, many more people around me. Hundreds, perhaps. Runners, walkers, power-walkers, bikers, people heading to work and dog walkers. The gym at 5:30 in the morning is pretty empty, except for the sauntering Rush t-shirt wearing tough guy who busts out dance moves between sets; the bearded, Mostly Mozart Festival t-shirt wearing, Times-reading recumbent biker and the short-haired treadmill walker who looks like a woodpecker.
• There is no television in front of me. I miss my morning shot of news. Now how will I know what the traffic is like?
• On a treadmill I can run four or five miles. Monday, outside, in Central Park, I managed a paltry one and a quarter before puttering out to a fast walk which then turned into me pretending to be fixing Avery’s glove but really catching my breath. Today I got all the way up to a mile and a half. It’s going to be a long road. I am currently googling “flattest parts of Central Park to run.”
• Let’s just say I wasn’t running at my typical pace.
• I love having the girls with me. Maddie seemed really Zen and into the whole experience, all cuddled up in her fuzzy pajamas and coat and hat and mittens and blanket. Avery was so very excited every time she saw a dog, of which there are many in the park, which means Avery was excited pretty much the entire time.

I am going to keep going, though, and figure within a month I can double my miles and within two, be back to my old pace and distance. At least, that is my intention, winter and crazy hills be damned.

And the bean thing strikes again. Since we bought the new stroller I put our old stroller up to sale…and it sold!

Pictured above, my new running partners.

Get Thee to a Beanery

I have never had any New Year’s traditions that I have followed, unless you count nursing a hangover or breaking resolutions by nightfall, back when I made them. But last year I read somewhere that you are supposed to eat black-eye peas on January 1st to bring good luck and fortune. I figured it can’t hurt, so I bought a can, but promptly forgot about it once I put the can in my cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind. 2008 has come and gone and who knows if it would have been better had we had the beans. For all I know, I totally screwed us.

This year, I start seeing tons of articles/news segments/chatter about eating the beans and also lentils. Perhaps a recession concession. So I buy some lentils and pull that can of black-eyed peas out of the cabinet. I cook both in olive oil and add some salt and pepper and viola, New Year’s Day breakfast. (I added a fun corollary: The beans had to be the first food we ate in 2009. Mmmm….beans and coffee!) I made Nicole eat it and the girls had to have bites. Maddie liked the beans but not the lentils. Avery liked neither. Nicole indulged me and grimaced her way through her portion

Well, all I have to say is go eat beans. It is working already! On January second, I got another editing job and on January third, I got a sizable check as a down payment for my services. This is not something I tried for; it literally fell into my lap. It’s the beans, I say. Now I have a lot of work to do, but a little hard work never hurt. I did want this to be a productive year and it is starting out that way.

And the girls had good luck too: On January seconds, just 24 hours after having a bite o’ beans, the girls received balloons, which are their favorite things right now. Well, at least they are Maddie’s favorite thing.

The next couple of months are already jammed packed. What happened to hibernation? It starts next weekend and ends in early March. (But there are very big March plans, which I will write about later). At the end of February I have a date with a medium. Yes, someone who speaks with the dead. Not a date-date, but a planned reading, I guess. Has anyone else done this? I have no idea what to expect, but it should be an interesting experience. I asked my sister-in-law if she wanted to come and she said “Does the medium speak Japanese?” Which brought up a good question: Do mediums need translators? Does my Japanese sister-in-law need a Japanese-speaking medium? Or do the dead speak some sort of universal language?

Every year I mean to collect the ridiculous predictions of psychics so I can look back at the end of the year and see if they are accurate. And every year I don’t. But is anyone anywhere keeping track of these predictions? I did see one man on TV predict that something bad was going to happen to some member of a boy band (Jonas brothers?) that has to do with fish. I think it was on the Today Show. He made some other predictions but I was distracted.

The only plan for tomorrow, other than work and children, is a napoleon at Bergamot. And I think we should be eating a bite of beans every day. We need all the luck we can get in 2009.

Pictured above, new year’s Day breakfast, which was followed later by Nana’s Secret recipe Pancakes. Below that, fire. The girls practiced saying Hot Hot Hot. And on the bottom, now that is a conversation piece, at our friends' apartment.

You Better Be Good To Me (Why Can't You Be?): 2009 Edition

Edited to add: I'm doing the 365! I started a new blog for it, and will update it daily. http://www.365matters.blogspot.com/

You know those light-trail pictures? Like the one posted here? That it what this year feels like. It is all a blur. I could go on with all the clichés about how fast time goes by and all that, but I won’t. Time goes by at a steady speed of one second at a time. When I am enjoying myself, those seconds go by very quickly. And when I am not enjoying myself, those seconds seem like an eternity. Luckily this year had a lot of good seconds.

Despite the gloomy financial forecast and despite the recession and despite the oncoming so-called Terrible Two’s times two, I am optimistic that this is going to be a productive and focused year. Within the first or second month, I think I am going to have some exciting news to share! Something I want to talk about now, but can’t, for reasons that will be clear. And no, it has nothing to do with fertility or babies or trimesters. How’s that for a cliff-hanger?!

So good-bye 08! And here is my end-of-year round-up:

Things I Am Happy To Leave Behind: The whole political season. And the word Change, which is so overused and logo-ed and gimmicked that it has been diluted of any true meaning for me. I think we should leave “change” in 2008 and adopt “action” in 2009. Action is the new change.

Biggest Holy Crap Moment: We bought a second home and became, I essence, my mother’s landlord at the same time. At maybe the worst economic times of my life. Holy crap.

I Never Thought It Would Happen, Part 1: After months and months of trying, I finally got the girls to tune into television. This seems counterintuitive, because isn’t limiting television a worthier goal? Yes, it is, but I need to have some pockets of time during the day when the girls are engaged in something so I can do things, like write about them on my blog. We only let them watch Sesame Street, and it used to be once a day. Then it became once in the morning and once in the late afternoon. Now it can be once in the morning, once in the afternoon and anytime Momma needs a break. (just kidding, sort of.) Now, of course, I have created monsters. They bring me the remote all the time and demand ABBY! They are the consummate Abby Cadabby fans.

I Never Thought It Would Happen, Part 2: The girls go to bed at 6:30 p.m. and sleep a good thirteen hours and they take three-hour naps in the day. Not bad, considering we started the year with them waking almost every morning at 4:30 a.m. to start their days, followed by intermittent and unreliable nap schedules. Having regular sleeping times makes me much saner. I’m sure it benefits the girls too.

Best Movie: Slumdog Millionaire and Frozen River were my favorites, both seen solo at the Lincoln Center theater. But Revolutionary Road is a close third, mainly for the last ten minutes of it. Amazing how much was said in those final, final moments.

Best Book: I read 26 books this year, which averages one every two weeks. Not bad, but still about twenty books behind President Bush. How is it the leader of the free world has so much time to read? I read an article about all the books that all the presidents read and it is much more than anyone I know is able to read. Olive Kittredge was the best written one I read, followed closely by what I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I really loved Edgar Sawtelle too. Great themes and some solid wring but a little long in parts.

Personal Pride Moments: I published the first two years of my blog into a real hard cover, dust jacketed book; a gift for the girls. And I edited a book and made some decent money doing too. Most valuable was that I remembered that underneath my oatmeal-dotted shirts and milk-stained jeans and sometimes ragged mommy appearance, I am a thinking woman who has certain skills.

Biggest Musical Surprise: Some of the Sesame Street songs are pretty catchy (“….and if I’m not mistaken, there’s an “i” in “thigh.”). And now, thanks to that show, I have an interest in Keb Mo.

Healthiest New Habit: Continued the running thing. It is amazing to think when I started I could barely run a quarter mile without having stop. And now I can do a good four miles plus at a solid ten-minute mile pace. And I can do a good nine-minute mile if I have some energy reserves. And I can even sprint for short bursts. My goal this year is to kick the gym treadmill to the curb and embrace outdoor running, rain, snow or shine. Also, I kicked my coffee creamer habit and switched to soy creamer instead. Baby steps.

Unhealthiest New Habit: Unfortunately, I have stopped my regular water drinking. I began to decrease my consumption because I found that when I was out with the girls it was impossible to use a bathroom. And drinking water guarantees hourly visits. I also tapered down when I found out my Nalgene was going to kill me. Transitioning to the Sigg was difficult. I do not like change. Regardless of why, the ramifications are terrible: I can see a difference in so many things, like how much slower my skin heals and how dry my skin gets. Ragged cuticles. Weaker nails. Lackluster hair. Water really is the miracle cure-all and I need to start drinking it again.

Biggest Computer Addition: Facebook and its time-sucker, Scrabble. I have played something like 60 games of Scrabble online this year with friends. My highest points for a word was 99 points for wraiths. I am mastering my parallel play skills and hope to break my high score this year.

Best Home Improvement: We painted the red entryway and hallway linen white. It makes a huge difference. I no longer feel like I live in some sort of bordello. That was fine when we were living the go-go life (ha!) but with kids, and spending a lot of time in the home now, the red was very claustrophobic. We also finally started to hang pictures, after five years of living here. When Nicole hangs a picture, it usually takes a ladder, several writing instruments, hammer, nails, a baseball cap, a level, tape measure and about four hours. Now that she has lowered her standards considerably, things are getting done much faster. Thank goodness. She hung up three pictures and several things in the kitchen in about five minutes.

Brush with Fame: I was on the Today Show, and Al Roker asked me the girls’ names on national TV. Hello, fifteen seconds of fame! And then Nicole and I and the girls were on this segment quiz called Who Knew. Hello, 15 more seconds. My ridiculous goal for ’09 is to be selected for a makeover. Yes, it has always been a dream of mine to be an After. Nicole said I am — and I quote — too beautiful to make over. She, as my wife, is required to say things like that. Still, a girl can dream of a haircut and color and new make-up and clothes. And if that doesn’t happen, maybe someone out there can just do my hair one day.

Most Played Songs on my Running iPod: Sugarbaby, So What, How Far We’ve Come, Heart of the Matter. Top album played is the new Pink album. But since I run on a treadmill with a TV on it, I spend most of my time watching the morning news. Weather and traffic on the fours! Darlene, back to you! Da-tails coming up! I want to transition back to mostly music, though. Forty-five minutes of redundant morning news makes me a little robotic

Wildest Animal Seen: We saw a bear crossing a windy country road in Northampton. I made Nicole stop the car and begged her to turn the car around, but she merely indulged me with a glance in the rear view and sped right along. Now I guess I know why she was in a rush. (See relationship highlight, below.)

Relationship Highlight: Engaged (proposed to at Paradise Pond on Smith campus) and married (in Look Park in a gazebo on a perfect fall day) in the same year! You can now call me Wifey McWiferson. Included in the Matrimonial package are a few rights, but none of those oh-so-coveted federal ones. Obama? Are you listening? Remember all that change you spoke of? This is where that change should become action. Oh wait, you don't believe in my marriage, do you? But you support my happiness. Gosh, what a difficult position for you to be in (ok I will stop being snarky. Yes, I used the word snarky.)

Relationship Lo-lights: A riddle: It seems that someone has a hard time sharing stresses and worries with someone else because someone else absorbs said worries and makes them her own and runs around the apartment yelling “We’re doomed! We’re doomed” even when we are not, in fact, doomed. Sometimes someone needs to just listen and stop turning it back to her. I think we all know who someone is in this scenario. And here’s another one: Someone needs to sometimes stop thinking about work and doing work and work work work and sometimes just sit down and listen to her wife talk on and on and on about nothing in particular. Just saying....

When Did I Become this Person?: Apparently in 2008 I became susceptible to infomercials. Yes, after viewing infomercials (at the gym, on the treadmill) I have purchased two random products: The Magic Bullet (an amazing blender system, for all of you with dirty minds) and a hair straightener (which works really well). Next up, a thighmaster and a real estate buying program. Just kidding. Perhaps this is a drawback of running. Yet another reason to get out on the gym and onto the streets. So to speak.

When Did They Become These People: Madeline and Avery are growing, and not just in their bellies. They eat three meals a day, sitting at the table. They climb by themselves into their seats. They are using spoons and forks (in a messy way) and drink from a cup if I feel like supervising them. They love playing in the tub. If you tell Avery to hug Maddie, she will run over to her and grab her and give her a bear hug. The run and climb and Avery can jump and get both feet off the ground. They are good eaters: For dinner they had chicken cutlet and broccoli and potatoes and blueberries. Maddie loves blueberries and yogurt and grapes and most fruits. Avery loves pasta with sauce. They both have acquired a taste for my favorite snack, pretzels. Madeline loves Nicole to the ends of the earth and will chose her over me almost every time. They call her Ammy, even though they can say Mommy. They call me Momma. Avery loves to dance and Maddie loves to sort and organize And they both love to climb into our laps to read any book. They say Abby, woof, moo, meow, doggie, shoes, duck, quack, sock, ammy, momma, nana, and are just starting to explore the word NO. All words are said in this funny little accented way. Avery said her first sentence: NO MOMMA! And she meant it. Avery is starting to try repeating words said to her. Maddie calls everything she doesn't know ZiZi. Who could ask for anything more?

Pictured above, the girls a YEAR ago.

If Only All Crises Could Be Solved With Sticky Toffee Pudding

I think the holiday season drags dormant depression and angst and sadness out of everyone. Why? What is it about this time of year that has everyone a their wit’s end? Through catching up on everyone’s blogs out there it appears that I am not the only one going through this holiday madness.

But I have been doing a lot of thinking. One of my issues is that I define success through the eyes of others. How messed up is that? In my own eyes I have several accomplishments that I am proud of: I have a stable, healthy relationship with someone who I truly can call my best friend. I succeeded in quitting drinking and smoking, which was no easy feat. I finished college and two Masters degree programs. And, of course, my two girls. Most people might think having children is a gift or a blessing or whatever term you want to use. But considering how hard it was for us, and how many miscarriages and chemicals and rounds of IUI and IVF we endured, how we bent our relationship to the almost-breaking point as I dipped in extreme depression, and how lucky we were to make it to the other side of infertility, yes, I consider Madeline and Avery an accomplishment. Perhaps the biggest one.

My lesson in life is to learn to not care what other people think. Is that even possible? Can anyone do that?! Please pass on the secrets to me.

There is so much about my life that I love. Nicole, the girl, my family, my friends, my home, my life in general. I feel so lucky in so many ways. I AM lucky in so many ways. But the reality is, the truth is, the heart of the matter is I feel a bit lost sometimes on the career front, and that really can make me feel worthless and loser-like. I’ve said this before, but it doesn’t help being married to a Career Super Star. I also think I am a victim of changing focus too much: From passions to security to money to relationships to, sadly, drinking. I knew, for example, the career path I should take, but my priorities were way out of whack. Instead I poured a lot of my energy and focus into my relationship, because I feared I would not survive a broken relationship (a legacy that many people from divorced families suffer from, I think). I had to make that relationship work, no matter what. Talk about unhealthy. In the end, I never focused on anything long enough, which is why it all sort of fell apart in my 20s.

Now I am in my mid-thirties. In many ways, I have more than I ever even dreamed I would. But I still wonder what I am going to do when I grow up. I try to remember my own advice and counsel, how I believe we all have to stick our hand into the trouble bag and pull out a few misery marbles. Some people have amazing careers, but awful marriages. Some people have awesome marriages, but awful health. Some people financial security and then some, but no true friends. We all get checks in the plus column and checks in the minus column. We all have issues and crosses to bear and challenges in life, reasons to throw our hands up in the air and scream “I give up.”

This career thing is mine. And I am still trying to figure it all out.

On a bittersweet note, I am a published writer! I say this tongue-in-cheek, because really, I am a self-published author, via lulu.com. But I think it is funny, how my first dream, my only true career aspiration was to be a writer, and I am, but not in the way I thought. I cut and paste every blog entry and compiled it into two volumes. The first volume, 2006 and 2007, is almost 250 pages! It is my Christmas present to the girls, and will be every year. I am excited because I want the girls to know who I am and know how hard I try to be a good mother to them. It looks and feels like a real book: Hard cover and dust jacket and all that. I had to design the cover and flaps, so it looks a bit amateur, but still. The book is for sale on lulu, but I imagine I will be the only one buying copies. I wanted to include all the pictures, but that would make the books cost almost $150 PER copy!! And it could only then be printed in soft cover, and I am a hard cover snob.

I think all of you out there with blogs should do the same. Having everything on the computer backed up somewhere in cyberspace is great, but having it in a book form is even better. If anyone is interested, I would be happy to talk you through the process and forward templates, etc. And I will post pictures of the book when it arrives. You can see the cover and a little bit of it here.You can also read my copyright page, which in retrospect, seems like it was written after a few too many egg nogs.

Thanks for all of your comments. I think we should all commit to making 2009 the year we are really start working out some of these deep issues. Which means we all have to commit to being really really honest.

Pictured above, pictures from Nicole’s and my annual eve of Christmas eve (or eve of eve of eve of the eve) dinner at Tea and Sympathy, this tiny British south of Chelsea but just north of the West Village. I got the macaroni and cheese and she got the chicken and veggie pot pie and we split sticky toffee pudding for dessert. You might call the picture of Nicole out-of-focus (wow, how fitting for me!) and over-saturated, but I’d like to think it is a bit artistic! And wow I so want to fix that crooked picture over her right shoulder!

Anonymous Commentors, Start Your Engines

I still am stuck on the statistic I read a while ago that stated the average couple engages in meaningful conversation for only 15 minutes a day. Chats about what’s for dinner and adjective-free recaps and calendar updates don’t count. That is horrifying, yet completely plausible. There is a certain comfort in being able to share space without having to fill it with chatter or small talk, but, at the same time, it is so easy to slide from that comfort zone into relationship distance. That transition from family of two to family of more is difficult. I can totally see how couples can grow apart after raising kids, and divorce after 20 years or more of marriage. As parents we all become a super-sized, overextended version of ourselves. And our focus is immediately divided. What’s best for a family isn’t always what’s best for a couple.

I bought a book once about important questions that every couple should discuss before they marry, and Nicole and I used to read them and answer them over dinner. Questions like “How do you see the division of household duties” and “what kind of retirement do you envision.” It was a great exercise and I really enjoyed it. I wish we could do that more, but dinner these days aren’t conducive to meaningful conversations. That said, I think we do okay with the whole talking thing, maybe better than this 15 minute average. But I think we could do a lot better. Or, more to the point, I wish we could do a lot better. Life always gets in the way.

And it is not just abut talking: It’s about listening too. I have to work hard all the time to be a better listener. Usually, I am the talker and Nicole is the listener in this relationship. I can talk for hours; she can sum up her thoughts in four words or less. This dynamic can implode at times, because sometimes the listener needs to talk and feel like she is being heard. So when Nicole is talking about how sad she is that her sister’s dog just died, I have to literally stop myself from talking about how sad I was when my dogs died; about how I read an article about how pet grief is treated by therapists; etc. Instead, I tried to just listen and not bring it back to me. Novel, no?

About a week ago (maybe more) I had a mini breakdown. I think it was hormonally enhanced, but I just had one of those Future Attacks, when I worry about who I am and where I am going and who I am going to be in five years, ten years and twenty years. It is a familiar refrain for me and I have a feeling I will be struggling with this for the rest of my life.

It is very easy when you are a caretaker to lose sight of who you are and what you want. Yes, I wanted to be a mother, badly, and yes, I want to stay home with my children, and I am happy with all of the choices I have made in my life (with a few notable exceptions) but, at the same time, the me who I thought I was seems like such a distance memory and the me who I thought I would be seems like a pipe dream. Stopping drinking adds a dimension to this too because for years, the bar-hopping drinking girl was imbedded in my identity. Part of me will always be the girl who will drink you under the table. And now I am the girl who cleans up food scraps under the table.

Nicole handled the crying jag really well, and even devised a project for me designed to help me clarify where I want to go, which I should be working on now, instead of writing this. It’s all about balance balance balance. I need time for me and time for us and time for the four of us as a family and time with friends and time with family. I need time to write and create and read and relax. And all of these things need to be smushed in between taking care of the girls and the house.

Writing really is a great barometer as to my mood and disposition. These days I am struggling to write new posts because, once again, I am trying not to write about what I need to be/should be writing about. And a play-by-play of my days is just not interesting. Who am I am? Where am I going? Do I define myself by my relationships, my accomplishments or a combination of those two things? I am really good at burying things inside me and avoiding them. And when I do that, I can’t write; at least, I can’t write anything of meaning. Coming up with sentences that string together in paragraphs that make sense become impossible. But I can still be a mean bullet list!

I have a couple of intenser-than-just update posts that are digging deeper into this issue, but don’t want to get into them now, since it is the holiday season and there is so much to do and so many places to be. And besides, you people are busy with your own lives and I need attention and suggestions and ideas and guidance, which you may not be able to provide since you are wrapping presents and all. But please stand by, because I will be needing the Internet wisdom very soon.

Or, if you feel like it, leave another anonymous comment sharing what you are struggling with in your life or your relationships. I feel like the more people talk about issues, the more we all realize we are not alone and the more chances we have to surmounting said problems. At least that works for me.

Pictured above, a green, earth friendly toy (kind of). I froze a couple of plastic toys from a sorter set in a chunk of ice and let the girls go to town with it the kitchen floor. They played with it for a half hour! It was very cute, watching them explore this ice with most of their senses. They were kicking it back and forth between themselves. And it ended as play sessions usually end: With the toy (ice) in their mouth.

If Your Name is Nicole, Do Not Read This Post

I woke up on Sunday morning with that awful twitch/throb feeling in my lip. I turned the bathroom and linen close upside down, looking for my magical cold sore cream, to no avail. All I could do is wait wait wait (tick tick tick) for the inevitable to happen. Which it did, in mere hours.

This is the worst cold sore I think I have ever had in my entire life. Actually it is two cold sores that are slowly merging together. Nice. My upper lip is so plump at it curls up my lip a little and exposes my front teeth, like a chipmunk. It hurts terribly. I haven’t had one in a very long time. I think this monstrosity came because I just got my flu shot, and even though my doctor told me to up my Vitamin C to compensate for my temporarily-deficient immune system, I didn’t. So I imagine my immune system is slightly compromised and boom, this thing blooms. Good thing they only last for a week or two (yes, I am being sarcastic).

In other health news, Avery’s hand surgeon appointment went well. The doctor confirmed that her cyst is of the safe variety. He said it will most likely get bigger and bigger, so we will need to remove it at some point. She would indeed need anesthesia, but he was very reassuring about that, saying that there was zero risk of side effects. Yes, he said zero risk of anesthesia aside effects. I thought there were no absolutes in medicine? He said Nicole and I just had to decide when we were comfortable doing it. That could take a very long time.

So Christmas is 17 days away and I am still wondering what to get Nicole. She is a very difficult person to shop for. I am so easy: You could buy all of my gifts at the drug store and I would be thrilled. I have hobbies that require many accoutrements, so there is always an endless list of things I will covet. And, of course, there is always diamonds and pearls and the Mac store.

Nicole is not easy at all. She typically buys what she wants and needs, and that said, she doesn’t want and need much. I am trying to think of the last recreational thing (besides clothes) she bought herself and I am drawing a blank. Probably a book, and I most likely bought it for her. In addition, Nicole has few gift-able hobbies. She watches football, but that doesn’t require accessories. She plays golf, but her golfing days are limited, between work and the girls and life in general. She likes to read, but books as gifts lack that wow factor. She doesn’t wear jewelry, and I have already indulged in her cuff links desires over the past seven years of birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries. How many pairs of cuff links does one girl need?

In a bold move of originality and way-out-in-left-field ridiculousness, I have been thinking about getting her this mainly because she has shown an interest of late in this and I am so desperate for her to develop an interest in something that can be useful in gift-giving occasions that I am willing to jump start it. But I am not sure she will be thrilled to bits, and that is what I am going for. And this product has a very interesting return policy, so I need to make sure she will like it if I buy it (if you send it back, unopened, you still fork over 50 bucks just for the honor of having it in your home).

I know the holidays are not about gifts and all that, but all the same I wish I could think of something spectacular to get her. She goes out of her way to find amazing presents for me and I just want to be able to do the same.

I have been a crappy blogger of late. I need to update more.

Pictured above, the weekend. I have a whole series of pictures of Avery running into Nicole’s arms. Too cute. And Avery with her newly older cousin. Also pictured, my crazy lip, taken with my computer camera. Yes, I posted a picture of me with cold sores. Hopefully the other pictures balance the ugliness out. Be glad you aren't me.

Challenged by the Idea of Some Challenging Challenges

I guess most people wait for January 1st to make big changes or enact resolutions, but I am starting early this year. I never much liked the artificiality anyway of the concept that JUST because it is January 1st, suddenly so many things are going to change, that I will wake up a lean, mean change machine. It smacks of “I’ll start that diet on Monday,” which means the weekend will be a bingeing free-for-all setback that usually doesn’t not bode well for Monday’s new start. Personally, I am not motivated to start a new way of eating after eating a box of Oreos, a few pints of ice cream and Junior Mints. But that is just me.

Anyway, somewhere in my internet travels I came across The One Hundred Challenge and I am going to do it. It is a program that promises to get you doing close to 100 push-ups in six short weeks. I took the initial test and I am proud (ha!) to report that I can do two whole good-form push-ups! Go me. All those years at the gym are paying off! (please note I am being very sarcastic.) Not an auspicious start, but regardless, I supposedly will be significantly increase the number of push-ups I can do in the next 42 days. It seems to follow the marathon training philosophy of build and rest and taper. Perhaps I am not doing this in the spirit in which the designers intended, because I feel like there is no way this will happen, so part of me is doing this to prove it will never happen. But I am willing to give it the college try anyway and will faithfully follow the program and continue with my daily runs, etc. and not sabotage myself.

If it works, I am going to do the half-marathon training program. And then I am going to do the 365 days of self-portrait challenge that Cali told me about. And I really really want run a half marathon and work on my photography skills so I am going to work hard to make this push-up thing work.

I feel like a train wreck this morning because the girls had not one but two visits to mommies’ bed last night. It was a bizarre night in general, which included a visit from the fire department to our building because there was a weird smoky smell. Nothing like three big shiny fire trucks out front to remind you that your precious life rests in the hands of a building-full of people who might smoke in bed, burn their Hamburger Helper of misuse space heaters, all resulting in mass incineration and insurance bureaucracy. The girls then woke up, most likely from the sirens or maybe the alarms going off, so we brought them to our bed, which they took as an opportunity to practice jumping. After we settled them a little we put them back into their cribs. All was fine until midnightish when Avery cried again. It might have been because her bedroom was the temperature of a rainforest (we suffer from the NYC apartment issue of too much heat or not enough). We went in to get her but Madeline heard us, of course, and, not one to be left out of the fun, insisted on joining us in the bedroom too for another fun-packed episode of jumping, laughing and battling to sleep on Mommy’s chest (not mine).

When the alarm went of at 4:45 this morning I had to convince myself to get up. And you know what the incentive was, besides coffee? That stupid 100 push-up challenge! I WILL build arm strength, dammit! I will run a half marathon! (in one day, that is.)

Avery has added a new word to her vocabulary: Up. She also says Mina, which her aunt’s name and her sister’s middle name. Both girls says Nana and Pop Pop and ball. They still call Nicole Ammy, but they know how to say Mommy, so we are thinking this is their first nickname. Madeline likes to carry a purse now. If this persists, she will be the only one in her immediate family who carries a purse.

Avery has an appointment with the hand surgeon today to look at the growth on her finger. It is the same hand surgeon that removed that disgusting pyogenic granuloma from my left hand when I was pregnant. I really liked him and his colleagues. So far other doctors have said that it is not serious and can be removed for cosmetic reasons, but that would require full anesthesia because she is to young to keep still for and use a local anesthesia. To which we respond, no way. Not putting our second-born under to remove something for cosmetic reasons. She will have to wait till she is old enough for a local. But we are having Mr. Hand Surgeon take a look anyway because he is awesome and if he saws just wait, it’s fine, I will feel a hundred times better.

Any read the surrogate article in the New York Times on Sunday? I am not really a fan of the writer who wrote it (I find her a little self-absorbed and her articles and subjects a little shallow) but I did like that the infertility world was given prominence. I had a hard time getting past the annoyingness f the writer. It was filled with telling contractions and the picture of the author and the baby nurse? That spoke volumes, but probably not the volumes she wanted. And I can’t help but think how a (minimum) 25K solution to fertility issues is not exactly viable for 99.99 repeating percent of the infertile population. I feel sympathy for a woman who had four miscarriages and 11 failed IVF cycles. I am still thankful for my two girls and literally think that almost every day.

Pictured above, if you look at the picture of Avery with the cup, you can see the growth/cyst/thing on her left hand. Thank goodness it isn’t vascular.

Thanksgiving North of Orlando and South of Jacksonville

Thanksgiving in Florida is like this: We have seen a bald eagle; we saw herons fly over the lake and got up-close-and-personal with one in Alligator Alley; and we witnessed 16,000 lizards scampering. Oh, and weird white spiders. I have been to Target 43 times and I go to the supermarket every day to wander in awe up and down the mammoth aisles. These stores have frozen food sections bigger than the entire food stores I shop in in the city. I bought a Paula Dean magazine because she seems to be all the rage down here, but I can't get past how every recipe calls for a stick of butter or a vat of oil. She has a recipe for a peanut butter trifle that is insane. Does she have special medical health secret? Because I don't know how it is possible to live on the PD diet and not clog arteries, gain 50 pounds or reduce energy reserves within two weeks.

The girls are having the best time and are reveling in all the space they have to roam in. The are sleeping well, in cribs side-by-side. After every nap and in the morning we notice that all the toys, pacifiers and blankets have somehow moved over to Avery's crib. We are not sure if Avery is using her power of persuasion or if Madeline is offering them. Avery can now moo, woof, meow, hiss and brrr (like an elephant). Madeline makes these sounds as often. Most interesting is that Avery also barks Christmas carols. She learned this from her stuffed dog that barks Christmas songs.

Both girls have become obsessed with balloons. Both are trying to repeat words we say. Their biggest "first" this week has been a trip to Santa. We forked over $24.99 or $19.99 or $22. 99 for two 5 by 7s that I could have taken myself. Tis the season to spend money ridiculously I guess. I'll post that picture tomorrow.

I am lugging back to New York several purchases, including five pounds of fondant, flannel polar bear pajamas, Christmas underwear, monkey pajamas for the girls and a cookie sheet. Everything down here is so much cheaper. And it is 10 times easier to shop when you have a Nana and the other mom with you.

Nicole and I managed to go out to eat alone one night (i had a wedge and rosemary chicken) and tonight we braved the cold to go down to Alligator Creek or whatever it is called so I could practice taking pictures with my tripod. I am trying to really really learn aperture really really hard.

Does anyone have any insight into Mad Men? Is it worth buying on iTunes?

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

I Can't Stop Thinking About All This

It seems like everyone in this country is waking up after a long, deep sleep. This political season, combined with the lovely recession and failing economy and rising gas prices and foreclosures run amok, has us all paying attention.

Everyone is concerned about this Wall Street bailout, it seems. Where is the money going? Who gets what? Why do corporate bigwigs get huge bonuses? How dare they drive nice cars and expect our tax dollars to bail them out? I am in the middle of the road here. On one hand, it is wrong to punish success. So some people get big bonus and special privileges derived form making lots of money — is that not [part of] the American Dream? Work hard, we say, and you can be what you want. A lot of pressure on a six-year-old’s tiny shoulders, but still. Don’t we teach our children in school that they can grow up and be anything they want? Or do we tell them that they can be whatever they want but if they earn to much money or get too successful then, well, we will hate you and resent you and throw stones at you?

But this whole accountability thing, where is the money going, why now? Why aren’t people asking that every year, round the 15th of April? Our tax dollars fund public schools, many of which are failing spectacularly so. Why aren’t we up in arms over that? I am not sure what the exact statistics are but I think less than half of students graduate in NYC. I, like everyone else, hand over a significant amount of money every year (well, now only via Nicole) so where is that going? Why is the school down the street from me failing? Why do I have to look into private school and consider paying a ridiculous tuition because Down The Road isn’t an option? But — and this might be controversial — if my two children are not taking up seats in the public school down the street, shouldn’t I get some sort of tax credit?

Economics are complex, so much so that I feel like I am watching an episode of Law & Order: The plaintiff presents and I believe then, and then the defendants present and I believe them. I can swing either way. In this country, the “ways” are republican and democrat. And I have to admit that this political season, I have been questioning many of the ideals that I hold. Some of the republican theories on economy make much more sense than the democrats. As much as I want to believe in social programs and social welfare and all that, it is clearly NOT working they way it should. I want everyone in this country to have health care, but I am afraid of what happens if the government runs that. Obama talks about raising taxes for corporations, but this, it seems, isn’t the answer. If we raise their taxes, they will just pass that on to We the Consumer. Tax Mobil more and they will make gas more expensive for us. Tax airlines and they will pass that onto us too.

But — and this is a big but — I am much more liberal than the republican party. I believe in gay marriage and would support a constitutional amendment saying that men and women can marry each other. What can I say: I have a vested interest. I believe in a woman’s right to chose and believe that making abortions illegal will not taper the number of abortions, but rather make them more unsafe. I believe that this whole right to own guns thing needs to reevaluated. Assault rifles, anyone? (And yes I realize if we made gun-owing illegal, then guns would fall into the hands of truly evil people who would use them to kill and thus create a scary underground ring.) I could go on. The thing is, though, I can’t wrap my mind around the social ideology of the republicans, the religious connections (somehow I end up as a sinner in almost every religion), and my second-class status.

The republican party, it seems, wouldn’t want me murking up their waters. But the democratic part is flawed too. So what is a girl to do?

Nicole has a Town Hall meeting tonight so I am on my own with the girls all day and night. I am hauling them out to Long Island and then back home for pizza. I have been overwhelmed lately with the concept of winter and being cooped up for a season, but that is another post for another day.

Anyone catch Five Under 5 last night? Way to represent, ladies!

Pictured above, Halloween last year and then this year. What a difference year can make! Understatement of the century…

My Heart Going Boom Boom Boom and Set Your Tivos

My Heart Going Boom Boom Boom and Set Your Tivos

Well, I am glad no one listened to me and said nice things anyway. Thank you so much for your advice, words of encouragement and connections. I, like most members of the human race, appreciate empathy and need and crave validation and praise. Nicole provides that for me, but, alas, praise from a partner is a double-edged sword: Too much and it is diluted and too little and it is an issue. I think we are in the too much category because when she says those things I think, yeah right. Besides, I have never been one to accept a compliment gracefully. How can she think that I am doing a good job when I can barely manage to vacuum up the giant tumbleweeds in this apartment? Or when she comes home to daughters with yogurt crusted in their hair? Or when I call her daily at 4:59 p.m. and ask when she is leaving? And she isn’t the most equitable observer: After all, if I asked her if I was doing a good job, would she never say “Well, actually, you are doing horrifically.” What is going to do? Fire me?

Yes, we need a babysitter. Badly. We have known this for a while, but I am so stubborn and often stand in my own way. I put the brakes on because the idea of idea makes me so uncomfortable. It feels like an admission of failure; it is a leap of faith for a control freak like myself; it requires me to step WAY outside my comfort zone. And no, I don’t think those who use babysitters are failures, flippant or foolish. But don’t we all hold ourselves to such harsher and different standards than we do others? Barnard has a babysitting service and I will look into that after we get back from Florida. Yes, I am putting it off, but at least it is on my to-do list.

I have been listening to Solsbury Hill on repeat ALL morning. Such a great song, but maybe unhealthy to hear 70 times in a row.

This morning is better, if only microscopically so. The thing about having kids is your really don’t have the luxury of dwelling very long in an existential pit. Actually, that maybe isn’t just a having-kids thing; it is a age-related thing. Back in the day, I could go round and round the same circles of emotions with little collateral damage. But now I have a much bigger incentive to figure to out and move on. It gets tiring after a while.

The day started at 4:45 a.m., as usual. As I was getting my coffee, I stepped on an Elmo game in the kitchen that screeched “TRY AGAIN.” This is how my morning began. How appropriate. I love when lessons and metaphors pop out of nowhere. I spend so much time trying to make sense of it all and look at that: The answers and mantras are sometimes right in front of my eyes, no digging required. Later, the girls ate a great breakfast: Scrambled eggs and a banana and grapes and Cheerios, which makes me feel like they deserve a Noble prize for eating such a balanced meal or I deserve a Nobel prize for providing one. It’s the little things.

I took myself to Slumdog Millionaire last night. Such a great movie. Go see it if you can. For two hours, it really puts one’s life in perspective. It has a great soundtrack too.

One of our own will be making her television debut on Wednesday! I complain about how hard two can be: She has TWO sets of twins and an older daughter! I read how she handles it on her blog, and can’t wait to see in person. Well, sort of in person. I wish she lived near me so I could have her on the list of people I intend to visit but never do (I really need to work on my taking-the-girls-on-the-road thing). It’s called Five Under Five and it is on the Discovery Health (channel 115 here in NYC) at 8:00.

The girls are really quiet, which is never a good thing. Last time that happened (yesterday) a roll of toilet paper was destroyed.

Warning: Whiney, Bitchy, Pissy Post. Not for the Faint of Heart.

It’s been 17 months and I am still overwhelmed. Two kids at the same time is just plain hard sometimes. I am not the mother I thought I would be, and that is killing me. I want to take them to the Children’s Museum and the park and the indoor playgrounds and gymboree things and all of those child-centered activities but I am completely unable to do it by myself. The girls run in separate directions at the park; you can’t use a stroller in the Children’s Museum and most Gymboree classes require one adult per child. I am facing a long winter cooped up in our apartment and that scares me.

I need a new stroller. I am just coming to grips with the fact that there is no ideal twin stroller and we are going to need different strollers at different times. I found the perfect stroller, one with great reviews and one that I have test-driven and one that will serve us perfectly for at least the next two years, but it won’t fit through the front door of my apartment building. It fits in my elevator and through my apartment door but not the effing front door of the building. Foiled again.

So it is back to the drawing board. I want to go up to stroller store on 95th street, and this is a perfect example of the day-to-day struggles of life with two. There is no subway stop with elevator access anywhere near 95th Street. So I have to either walk the 40 blocks in the windy cold winter-ish air and then the 40 blocks back or take the subway to 72nd, and walk the 20 blocks from there. I have no problem carrying a single stroller up and down flights of subway stairs: I did it with my nephew until he was three. But bjorning a baby and carrying a stroller with a baby in it? That is hard. Still, I do it more frequently than I intend, since so many times I take the subway to elevator stops only to find the damn elevator isn’t working. I could wait until Nicole gets home and go alone, but this store closes at 5:30. I could just walk it and stop bitching. I could just order a stroller online without test driving it. I guess there are solutions, but none I like. Maybe I am just hard to please or my own worst enemy.

I guess I need to readjust my standards to an extent and my vision of motherhood to the max. I repeat: I am far from the mother I thought I would be. With two, I feel like I am just trying to keep my head above water sometimes; with one, I feel like I would be unstoppable. It makes me sad because I was a much better mother to my nephew. We did so much together: Parks, zoos, museums. I used to take him to cafes and drink coffee. I would take him shopping and to parties and baby showers and to other peoples houses. It was so easy. I would take him out and let him hold my hand a walk around the block. He used to love that. And the girls love to walk on the street too, but I can’t take them both out and let them do that. I guess it will get easier when they get a little older but that doesn’t make me feel better right now. Right now I just feel like a crappy mom who is letting her girls down (and myself). I feel like I miss out on moments and milestones and soon-to-be memories.

When I was going through the infertile years, I would kill to have these issues. I would read other people complaining like this and think they were ungrateful. I am not ungrateful. I would never wish one of my children away and hope for a different outcome than what I have right now. I am so grateful, and not a day goes by that I don’t think that, and that is the truth. But I severely underestimated how hard it would be at times, and how overwhelming it could be and how isolating it could be and how awful it feels to feel realize that you can fail at something so important. I am not fishing for compliments or looking for people to say how great I am doing. I guess I just want to know I am not alone in this and that I am not the only one that tried so hard and suffered through so much to be where I am and to even still feel overwhelmed sometimes and think “how can I do this?” This will pass, as it always does, but right now I am wallowing.

What Would Jesus Do? No, Really. Which Box Would He Check?

We took the girls to their first rally the other night: The giant Anti-Prop 8 protest that started at the Mormon Church. To be honest, I was uncomfortable with the church-focused parts of the protest: I am fine with suporting anti-8 but didn't want to be condenming a religious group for its views. After all, they have the right to their own opinions, even if they aren't in line with mine. And, as evidenced by all the Mormons and ex-Mormons at the protest, not every single one agrees with the Powers That Be in the Mormon Church. Which is not to say that I think the the Mormon church's financial support of Prop 8 it is right or moral: In my view, it is not. And it is serious misstep in separation of church and state and all that. But my focus was Equality and that is the issue here. We are planning on going the City Hall protest on Saturday, unless the rain drowns us out.

Here is another Guest Post from Nicole, who took a much more subtle approach to disagreeing with the Mormon Church's stance:

Jesus Christ preached love and acceptance, so why don’t the churches based on his teachings do the same?

It’s quite simple; Jesus Christ’s teachings don’t lend themselves well to organized religion. In fact, Joseph Smith learned this lesson as well. If you teach people that the Christ is within them, that we are the embodiment of God, that God speaks to us directly, why would we need a Church? If you were told “here are Jesus Christ’s principles, everyday practice them, everyday grow and try to become the Christ,” wouldn’t that be a very individual and personal spirituality? Wouldn’t that be empowering? What if you used The Bible and the “heretic” gospels that were not accepted by the Catholic Church as your guide and you were free to interpret them? Would you draw different conclusions? If you removed the influence of your organized religion what would the impact be? Would you think the Crusades were a good idea? Would you think slavery was OK? Would you still think women are second class citizens? Would you care if gays wanted to marry?

The real question is…would you want this responsibility? Would you want to make these choices? Isn’t it easier to point to our organized religions and free ourselves from these decisions? Isn’t it so much easier to go to church – maybe even every Sunday – and shrug our shoulders and say, “I voted for Prop 8 because my church told me God thinks homosexuality is a sin”? Conveniently forgetting that premarital sex is a sin, divorce is a sin, abortion is a sin, theft (even petty theft like taking a pen from your employer) is a sin, extramarital affairs are sins, coveting is a sin, the list goes on…convenient.

Real Christians step up. Educate yourselves. Look beyond your religion and embrace Christ’s teachings for real.

Clearly I Am Not Done Talking About Politics

You know how if someone cuts you off in the toll lane and then gives you a nasty look, as if you did something other than driving like a normal person, you are supposed to feel sorry for him (or her) and not hate him (or her)? Or how if some random stranger is randomly rude to you, you are suppose to love him instead of hate him, because love and hate can’t both live in the same heart and all that? I am not so good at that.

A friend of a friend on Facebook recently made a disgusting remark about Obama, which, it turns out, is a federal offense. See, if you put the name of the president in the same sentence with words like “dead” and “get his” and the future tense, you are going to get all sorts of attention that you might not want.

But that isn’t the point. The point is, why so much name-calling? I’d like to think that if McCain won, I wouldn’t be calling him nasty names and saying that he was a loser and saying that this country is going to hell. Don’t we have better ways to criticize people than to just say “he is such a jerk?” So far Obama really has done nothing but get elected and yet there are many people who just hate him. I mean really hate. I respect our freedom of speech and our American right to express our own opinions, but I just wish that we weren’t already at the name-calling stage. What happened to quiet contempt and momentary solidarity?

I also have a hard time reconciling the fact that if I believe in freedom of speech, then I have to respect the fact that people like, say, that group that wears the white robes and burn crosses, are protected under that and allowed to speak their minds too. Freedom is speech is for everyone, not just those who share my opinions.

I will be the first to admit I am a walking contradiction at times. Maybe I should practice what I preach, because I too am guilty of jumping on the Bush-bashing bandwagon. But who hasn’t? Not that that makes it right. Perhaps I have resorted to name-calling aspersions a few too many times. Bush’s approval ratings are the worst ever, and the lowest of any president since the rating system was invented. I should be more specific with my comments. I could go in to detail how his long list of Executive Orders befuddles me. How the fact that he was even signing so many executive orders (which requires no congressional approval….what happened to checks and balances?) scares me because how is that not abuse of power? I could talk about how Bush created permanent military bases in Iraq, and how that seems to indicate intentions better than any speech could. I could talk about how he mislead the country about the dangers in Iraq. I could talk again about that dirty word hegemony and how Bush’s hegemonic ways are frightening. But there are entire sections in libraries devoted to hegemony and presidential power abuse. I feel woefully underinformed. And sometimes it is just easier to skip the library visit and say “idiot” and hope for a better future.

Obama has a long road ahead. He has to prove himself to every single person in this country and even the world. Me, I am waiting to see what he does. I am watching for small signs of change, little acts and indications that reveal the direction of his administration. For example, where will the Obama girls be going to school come January? Once upon a time, education was a huge election year issue. That has been pushed way down the list, thanks to war and economy and energy and other pressing issues. Will the girls be heading to public school? Or will it be private school for them? I don’t understand how the government can justify not taking drastic action to improve education, because sending their kids to private school is an admission in itself that what the public gets isn’t good enough for the rich and privileged. That in itself it admitting that the education system is bad and that many, many children are being left behind, despite having an entire committee in Washington to prevent just that. Obama will earn some respect from me if he sends his girls to public school and puts educational reform on the agenda. What a message that would send to America. (The last president to send is children to public school, by the way, was Carter. Bush and Clinton didn’t think public school was good enough for their kids, I guess.)

After that, all he has to do is fix the economy; fix Wall Street; repair Main Street; shore up American jobs; figure out what to do about the Middle east; figure out what to do about North Korea; figure out what to do about Israel; find a immigration solution; find an education solution; find an energy solution; find a gay marriage solution; find a solution to the climate crisis; find a way to make everyone happy with health care; find a solution for social security; find a tax plan that pleases all; find a way to end poverty and create a better life for every single American. Not too much, right?

I am going to a Prop 8 rally here on Wednesday with Nicole and the girls and a few friends. Should be interesting, since it starts at the girls’ bedtime. I am trying to come up with a good sign. “Prop Hate” seems to cliché already. And “Did WE vote on YOUR right to marry” seems rather contentions, no? I am really sad that this passed, even if only by a narrow margin. The fact still remains that about half of the people are against my right to marry. Ok. So here I am trying again to understand the other side of this. I am trying to put myself into someone else’s shoes and understand why my marriage would scare them or threaten them or go against their religious beliefs. I am having a really, really hard time. I mean, I get the religious beliefs thing, but I feel like if you are going to use the bible as your justification, then you better be following the bible to the letter, including following all those commandments. Very few of us can claim that. Maybe I dislike contradictions so much in others because I dislike them in myself.

Today is the type of day when I just feel a little defeated, a little overwhelmed, a little foggy and very unfocused. The news is focused on an eight-year-old who admit to premeditated murder and a fourteen-year old girl’s throat who was slashed in her bedroom by someone she met online. That pretty much sums it up. It is the kind of day when I think retail therapy will improve my state of mind but it never does. And yet, and this is a big yet, I am so grateful for what I have. Nicole, the girls, our home, our life. I love my life and all that I have been given, and I am trying to focus on that more. See that? I am one giant walking contradiction.

I want to write more but the girls are playing in the bathroom and that spells disaster with a capital D.

Pictured above, look at that belly!! And below that, looks who’s finally watching Sesame Street. They look like zombies, no? I really don’t want them to watch TV too much and yet I want them to have a solid distraction so I can do things like this blog. See? There’s that contradiction thing again.

A New Morning; A New Country; and Our Fifteen Minutes of Fame!

I am stunned. Even though I thought this might happen, it still rocks me. Did he really just win? This victory belongs to me, dammit. Obama said it himself.

His speech last night, well, what can say? I cried a little and was moved and inspired and felt like I need to go out and volunteer and pay my taxes and not complain. I loved that he acknowledged gay Americans. In my little dream world, I imagine he was a little silent about this ever-growing and often ignored or avoided segment of our population for most of his campaign for fear of scaring off the homophobic, who are, sadly, another ever-growing segment of our population who sometimes have a louder bullhorn. But then, in his first speech, he mentions gay Americans (and straight, to be fair). That is kind of a big deal, people.

When Joe Biden came out at the end, I had this moment of Wow. I can’t really explain but suddenly I thought, I like this guy. I barely paid attention to him during this ultra-long campaign, since there was so much focus on Palin and Obama and McCain. There is a little swarmy on him for some reason, but still, I looked at him and though he could grow on me.

Speaking of Palin, I am afraid that McCain’s loss will be blamed on her. This is the second presidential campaign that featured a female VP to fail miserably. This is not good for women. If they won, I always said I will focus on how great it is to have a woman in the White House (annex). I may not agree with, oh, anything she says, but love that she made history in her own way, and helped fifty percent of the population (that’s us women) in doing so.

However, Obama’s speech did have that committee-written feel to it. I think all speeches should be delivered from a sitting position, with feet up on an ottoman. I loved what he said, but, like all speeches, it just had that sort of memorized soliquy feel. I love off-the-cuff. I though McCain did a great job on his speech. When he tried to hush the booing crowd, I though, this is a great man.

I learned a lot in this election. I also learned that I need to lower my expectations. Me, I just want everything: I want the poor happy, the rich happy, the in-between happy. I want social programs that work and tax benefits that are fair. I want a strong military and money spent on security. I want Medicare and Medicaid to work and I want all Americans to have health care (I am not sure socialized medicine is the way to go, but we need to figure it out already). I want social security to do just this: Provide security. I want fair minimum wage. I want educational equality. I want roads and stop signs and police officers and want to know that if there is a fire in my apartment, a fire truck and able-bodied men and women will be there within two minutes. And, if possible, I want to pay not taxes and make no sacrifices. Is that too much to ask? I loved this quote, uploaded by a friend of mine on Facebook: "A government big enough to give you everything you want is a government big enough to take from you everything you have." (Gerald Ford)

On a fifteen-minutes-of-fame note, I walked over to Roc Center with the girls this morning to see the ice rink map. We were on the show! Al Roker came over to me and asked me what the girls names were. Of course, I fumbled it! And then a producer came over to me and asked if I wanted to be on a trivia segment with Kathie Lee at 10:30. I said yes, why not, went home (I had an hour to get ready), felt like I was going to throw up and called Nicole for back-up support. I am not the type that relishes that sort of attention: I can’t even open presents in front of people! Nicole left work to accompany me…and she ended up on the segment too! Kathie Lee talked to us off camera for a while and she was very nice. Sadly, we got the question wrong, but I say it was a trick question. I wanted that damn gift card! More on that later…

I just spell checked this and had to add “Obama” to my dictionary. Wow.

Pictured above, kimono pajamas are adorable as well as dangerous. This is what Avery looked like one morning when she woke up. Not only does it look uncomfortable, it looks like she can choke herself. So these pajamas are relegated to lounge wear. So be careful, because I never thought of “kimono pajamas” as “killing pajamas.” Also pictured, pride flags. Go America.

This Post is Completely Plagiarized: With Apologies/Gratitude to C.

This post is completely plagiarized; words and ideas stolen from a dead woman, no less. Recently a woman in our building died and Nicole and I went to her funeral. The minister delivered a beautiful sermon that he said was actually an email sent to him by the deceased woman (before she died, obviously!). It was so moving and humbling and well said. I emailed the priest and asked him if he could email me the sermon. I really wanted to save it and reread it when I was having One Of Those Days. He never responded. Discouraging.

I decided to recreate it myself, in the same spirit and general outline, because the message is important for me to remember. So this is her dream, her ideas and her message; I am just the messenger.

It starts out with a dream. C., who was dying of cancer, dreamt that she was getting a tour of heaven. Her angel guide took her to a huge room, miles and miles and miles long. It was filled with millions of angels working hard. C. asked what this room was and her angel guide responded: “This is the prayer receiving department. This is the place where the prayers of the people of the world go. The prayers are organized here.” Then the angel guide took C. to a second room, equally as large, but twice as busy. C. asked what this room was. Her angel guide responded: “This is the prayer fulfillment department. All of these angels are busy working on answering people’s prayers.” The guide then took C. to a third room. This room was small, tiny even, with a single desk and one single angel sitting at it. “What room is this?” C. asked. “Well,” said her guide said, “This is the Acknowledgment Department. This is the place where people’s appreciation and thanks are received. It only needs one part time worker.”

That was the general gist of it. Maybe this wasn’t really a dream of hers, but rather perhaps an allegory that is passed around religious circles to remind people to Thank God or whoever they worship. Maybe it is an internet spam message, like that “wear Sunblock” graduation speech. Regardless, it moved me, it resonated in me. The message is clear: Many of us want want want and when we get, we lack appreciation. And many of us are not grateful for what we already have.

To illustrate her point, C. went on to list so eye-opening statistics. I wasn’t able to remember all of them (I had to research each one here to get the proper percentages) but, again, this is the gist of it:

• If you have internet access, consider yourself part of an elite crowd: Only 10 percent of the world’s population can claim access.

• If you live on more than $1.25 a day, consider yourself lucky: 1.4 billion (that’s 25 percent of developing country populations) live on less than $1.25 a day. Think of that the next time you spend five buck on a grande something at Starbucks.

• If you have a working toilet at your disposal, you are privileged: 2.6 billion of the world’s citizens have no toilets and no access to toilets.

• If you have running water, you are lucky: One in two of the world’s population don’t have running water. Think of that the next time to step into a shower.

• If you have ever used a phone, you are indeed privileged: Half of the people in this world have never made a phone call. And to think most of us have cell phones, land lines and Blackberries at our disposal.

• If you own or lease a car or have access to a car, then you are part of the 9 percent of the world’s population that can claim that. 91 percent of the world’s population do not have a car or have access to a car.

• If you have the ability to further your education, you are in an elite crowd: About 25 percent of the world’s population have a bachelors degree and nine percent have a Masters degree.

The things I take for granted are the things that make me one of the lucky. I bitch about washing dishes, but who knew that running water is such a rare commodity? In theory, I know this, but it is easy to forget about the rest of the world. We don’t see true poverty that much in our neck of the world.

I’d like to think I am a grateful person. I am grateful for my two daughters: As a woman who never thought that she would get pregnant and stay pregnant and who tried for years to get pregnant, I am still shocked that I have two living, breathing babies in my life. I am grateful for Nicole and our home and my life. I am grateful for health, but don’t like to think about it, for fear of jinxing us. I am grateful that I am not visiting loved ones in a cancer hospital or worrying about paying the electric bill or wondering how to afford food. But I am not a saint and this gratitude often gets buried. How do we unbury this? How do we eschew this sense of entitlement or this false sense of need and this disease of more more more?

C.’s ultimate message was that none of us are promised more than this very moment, and we need to be grateful for that, and we need to be grateful for all that we have already been given, because if we started to keep score, we would realize we all already have a lot.

Pictured above, the girls on their Stone Ponies. And below that, the awesome Pink, at a live show she gave in NYC on Halloween. I really need (there is that “need” word again….) a zoom lens. Her new album is awesome.