Where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain

So, uh, how many of you have emergency kits? Oooh, next question: what is IN an emergency kit?

Phillip and I are discussing emergency kits, escape routes, meeting up plans, all sorts of distasteful things as we watch the Moore, OK coverage. I say, "Thank God we're building deck stairs because we don't have an exit route from the second floor." Phillip says, "I think my car has lots of water in the back, but I need to put more in the van." I say, "Should I make everyone a little backpack of extra clothes and snacks and a space blanket? And... other stuff?" Phillip says, "If something happens when I'm at work and I can't reach you, first I'll look for you here, then I'll look here, then I'll look here." Then we stare at the TV a little longer. 

For a while I sat in on a bunch of meetings where we tried to figure out how to disaster-prepare the church. It was even more important as the church is the largest gathering space in that neighborhood and would likely be a shelter and headquarters for response teams. It was totally overwhelming - not the best feeling for someone on the planning team, I know, but I had a hard time wrapping my brain around so many responsibilities and contingencies. At such a time I think I would only be big enough for three responsibilities: Jackson, Molly, and Emma.

Phillip and I need to figure out a plan for our family. I've been thinking about it for a while. Extra food and water in the garage. Batteries. Flashlights. Radios. What else? I had to make a little emergency kit for Molly's preschool. Extra clothes, a space blanket, a few snacks, a "comforting letter". When my brother returned from Hurricane Katrina relief with the National Guard, he stocked up all the proper survivalist supplies, bought a few guns. We will not be doing that. But we should do something. Say the next earthquake takes out a bridge? Or we find out North Korea can reach Seattle? Or my friend's parents are right and the rapture is going to happen any day now? WHO KNOWS?

I'm looking at this website: http://makeitthrough.org/

Ugh, this is such a terrible thing to think about. Much like making a WILL, which we haven't done EITHER. (I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW.)

Tonight I'm just super thankful that when Jack asks me what the news is talking about I can truthfully say, "Don't worry, that doesn't happen here." 

I'm so sorry, Oklahoma.

Six years, three kids, a bajillion neuroses

Even though I could positively karate kick every single person who feels compelled to tell me that my baby doesn't look like much of a baby anymore, they're right. At some point in the last few weeks Emma Cheung morphed into the next version of herself. She's not two yet, but for all the whining and demanding and temper having and sheer personality getting thrown around, she might as well be. And it's as I suspected - there's a loud, assertive, charming little extrovert inside that kid and I admit it, I'm a little intimidated. 

I thought my other kids were full of personality at this age too, but I think they were personalities I understood a bit better. Maybe a little more like my own, or easily handled. I see a lot of myself in Jack, and Molly is a sweet, soft, delicious little spoonful of girly whipped cream. Or maybe it's because I'm familiar with them, I know what to expect, and Emma's self is suddenly exploding all over the house. Even Jack and Molly seemed stunned by the force at times, unthinkingly handing over a toy or snack, immediately giving in, yielding to the emotional noise that is their baby sister. 

Just this last week she's begun to choose walking - a drunken stumble, really - over scooting, and she's high on the experience. "LOOK AT ME!" her face says, as if she started walking at 9 months instead of 20. She talks. Constantly. Repeats everything we say. Yells it. And if she can't form the words she emits this awful mind-numbing "Eh-ehhhh!" until we figure out what she wants. She is sweet and darling and cuddly and loving until the instant she is not, and then she is furious, offended, indignant, and spilling white hot tears of HOW COULD YOU?!?!?!

And while she is still very clingy and attached to me, she has absolutely no fear diving (literally) into her siblings' games and toys and carefully structured pillow forts. Aren't all of these things here for her own amusement? Including the older siblings? Is not this entire house and everything within it simply existing for her own personal enjoyment? 

I feel sorry for my kids sometimes, having as they do a mother obsessed with Myers-Briggs and enneagrams and birth order and various other personality theories and assessments. I don't WANT to assign them traits and characteristics before they can pronounce "enneagram" but dudes, if Emma Cheung doesn't have YOUNGEST CHILD oozing out of every pore. I see it in action every day. She studies Jack and Molly, she takes note of what gets a laugh, and she'll do those things over and over again. She REMEMBERS those things, weeks and weeks after they happen. I'm afraid she'll be playing "steal Mommy's napkin" for laughs until she's thirty-five. Even at not quite two she's the ham in this family, though admittedly she doesn't have much competition. I fear for this child, growing up the lone noisy extrovert in a family of rule followers. But see - I'm doing it again. Who knows what she'll be like! Who knows what the other kids will be like! I don't blame her for capitalizing on being Super Cute Funny Baby Sister, a role I've often envied. 

I think of all the times growing up when I swore to myself that if I ever had kids I would be FAIR! And EQUAL! And I would remember how old the oldest was when she got to shave her legs and not even CONSIDER letting the youngest do it until she was AT LEAST the age the oldest WAS etc. etc. etc. But I cannot fathom a time when Emma won't be my BABY and so much younger than her siblings and therefore needing special treatment and attention. HORRIBLE! But even Jack and Molly fall into this line of thinking, getting irritated when people would try to get Emma to stand on her own and walk, taking over, protectively grabbing Emma's hands and barking, "SHE CAN'T WALK." 

How am I encouraging Jack in his "oldest" role and Emma in her "youngest"? How am I neglecting Molly as the "forgotten middle"? 

It is such a BIZARRE and AMAZING thing to have three brand new never-seen-before individuals living in your house. Where you're observing every minute detail, recording many of those details in a BLOG for heaven's sake. WHO ARE THEY? More importantly, HOW AM I SCREWING THEM UP? 

Friday Reads & Recommends: the Vintage Edition

So, heads up, I have a serious amount of war links, even for me. 

Have you heard of Irena Sendler? I hadn't either. Shame on me. What a courageous, amazing woman.

My father, the good Nazi. I just... Where did I get this link from? I forget. This story just broke my heart. The father wasn't just any old garden variety Nazi, he was a MONSTER, but it was hard to totally fault and blame and condemn the son for making so many excuses. Especially maybe because the father was so terrible. Despite his denials, it's telling to see the effects the father had on the son who never knew him. 

This story is just flat out crazypants. An Auschwitz Survivor Searches For His Twin On Facebook. I KNOW. Holy crap. They were one of Dr. Mengele's experiments. 

I am fascinated by the story of Ryan Fogle, the CIA agent found out in Moscow. The details are bizarre, but according to this story about spies in our history, he's in good company. 

North Korea isn't fighting a war (yet?) but I feel like this story about North Korean orphans fits in the category. This is awful, just like every other story that comes out of there. I've been debating picking up that newish book on FDR and the Jews, and every time I read about North Korea I can't help thinking WHAT SHOULD WE BE DOING ABOUT THIS? Fifty years from now is someone going to write a book about the US and how we knew what was going on and did nothing? UGH. 

All righty! That heavy enough? Here's a "this book is totally overrated" review of The Great Gatsby on Vulture. Excellent. I totally want to see the movie, though, because is there anything more glamorous than 1920s fashion? NO. And 1920s fashion as depicted by Baz Luhrmann? SWOON.

Wikipedia's Women Problem. Discuss.

Vintage cigarette ads. 

50 Shades of Draper. SERIOUSLY. I love this show, I really really do, I love how it's a chapter of a novel for me to dissect each week, but this was the first episode where I just needed something good. Simply good. Like Burt whatshisname falling in love with Joanie and they get married happily ever after and CAN SOMETHING HAPPY PLEASE HAPPEN OMG.

When I used to have a job (and dreaded it)

When I was out doing the kindergarten and preschool rounds this morning my old boss from 10-ish years ago popped up on my cell phone. I worked for him 3? 4? years? I should know this. And when I moved on I stayed in the same industry so I saw him often, plus he was, by then, kind of like your crotchety uncle who is secretly a big fat softie inside and gives you a giant check for high school graduation. 

It was just him and me and his dog in our tiny downtown office. He was a lobbyist and flew around and talked on the phone; I did absolutely everything else. He once yelled at me (like my DAD yelling at me, which is TERRIBLE) for getting his flight reservations wrong. Like, I was terrified to go to work the next day. He's been suspicious of Phillip ever since he didn't give me an engagement ring (LONG STORY!), but he went to my wedding, has met all my children, writes to me every Christmas, and takes me out to lunch when he's in town. But I haven't talked to him in forever. And he didn't leave a message. And he called TWICE. eep!

Anyway, when I got home I had an email from him inviting me to an industry lunch we used to go to every year, where I once won a giant television in a raffle (he paid for my raffle tickets). I am at once touched, delighted, and horrified. WHAT? No. I am not going to that lunch. Even as his now mid-thirties all-grown-up-now former assistant who can pay for her own raffle tickets this time, thankyouverymuch. 

There are just SO MANY THINGS I regret from that time, it would just be SO... I don't know! He implied that most of "the old gang" would be there, so a lot of the Important and Not So Important People I used to work with and talk to and I always felt so SUBSERVIENT to them, so insignificant and dumb and unpretty and a total utter failure at the Schmoozing that happens at those events. 

I worked super hard. Especially after I messed up those plane tickets, man. I didn't always have a lot to do there (or at my next job), but I tried my absolute hardest to get everything right the first time, to be the quickest, most efficient, most reliable, on-top-of-everything Girl Friday. And I think I succeeded, for the most part. I knew I was lacking in social graces, I knew I was easily intimidated, I knew my looks didn't exactly recommend me (this was an old boys' club, sigh), and I was just SO AWARE of being BELOW everyone else. (This is long before I knew I was a Three on the Enneagram, obvs. IT EXPLAINS SO MUCH!) So I made myself, in every way I knew how, indispensable. Like, that's what was going to make me valuable.

All of those people were SO kind to me. Some of them wrote me recommendations, some of them got me work other places, many of them gave me advice. The industry, which never interested me, was full of really tremendous, generous (and fun loving) people. When I look back I can see them affirming me, inviting me into their groups, treating me like a grown up, but I don't ever remember thinking I WAS a grown up, equal to them in any way. And to think about seeing all of them again? Errrr...

No, I think I will go. I think I will go because I love my old boss and it'd be a good time and it's a fundraiser for a great organization and because I know that ultimately all my old insecurities were bigger in my head than they were in real life. I'll go because I think it'd be fun to actually see some of those people again and while they may loom large in my memories I most likely occupy negative space in theirs. 

Besides, even if I was a very anxious, uptight, all-business 20 something, I like myself much more as a 30 something. I am more than happy in my job. I am more creative, more productive, more comfortable, more ME than I ever was working with that crowd. I have three kids, I have a sense of humor, I know now that I'm worth getting to know. 

If nothing else, maybe I'll win another TV.

Maybe I just need a massage

I'm anxious, Internet. Let's talk this out. 

(Oh wait. Before that, Jack's birthday was lovely and so was Mother's Day. I have an excellent family. Blessed all around. Kids even halfway pleasant.)

So anyway. This has been going on for a few days and seems to be increasing. It was triggered, I know, by an unbloggable yet mostly insignificant thing, just something that reminded me of something else. It's nothing I have to deal with or think about it any way NOW (really, truly, trust me), but I am ANYWAY. Sort of a nice summary of my anxiety stuff: let's obsess over things that are over/pointless/not real/not worth obsessing about!

Other things that are not helping:

• we are refinancing. This is a good thing! But a lot of work. (For Phillip.)
• the deck stairs project is now, more or less, a deck reno project. Also a good-ish thing. It needs to be done. I trust the person we're having do it. But it's way more money than we were planning to spend on the house this year, and money we were saving for a bathroom or kitchen remodel several years from now, soooo... It's something we definitely want to do, just figuring out how to make it work and wrapping our brains around the whole thing. 
• Phillip is sick. He's been sick since before I went to Sacramento. He's been to the doctor twice and can't shake an awful cough. It's frustrating for everyone. 
• I have never ever been so aware of stress eating before. I used to think I ate too much because I was bored, but now I feel like I'm doing it (and eating TERRIBLE JUNK) because it makes me feel better for five seconds? I think? I haven't figured this out. 
• Just a lot of things planned, things to remember, things to coordinate. 
• An inability to keep things clean/organized. I spent a week trying to clean the house and get things ready for family to come for Jack's birthday Friday and stay overnight. I would do a little bit each day - bathrooms, laundry, vacuuming, getting beds ready, all that. And by Saturday it's a nightmare again. Most of the time I just ignore it, but right now it's upsetting. 

Things that ARE helping

• did I mention my fantastic family?
• I just made several concerted efforts to reconnect and get together with friends. This is always so so good for me. 
• I am figuring out how to go on a date with my husband. In our own city. With an actual babysitter. 
• This morning my contractor told me that often selling the lumber makes up for a huge percentage of the cost of cutting down a [freaking ginormous] tree. And since I hate this tree with my entire being and have despaired of ever being rid of it, this is a small gleam of hope. 
• Knowing that if things don't get better, I have a list of things to do about it. I don't have to sit here and be anxious about getting more anxious. 

OKAY I WROTE IT OUT, now I'm going to eat spoonfuls of peanut butter and watch Mad Men. Obvs this is a healthy way to cope. 

In which my sunny disposition has been mysteriously replaced with a Super Stellar Bad Attitude

You guys, I am stress-eating all the things. Right now it's watermelon, but earlier it was about five Fiber One Brownies in a row. I am getting LOTS of fiber, folks. 

I don't feel like I'm doing a good job in ANY area of my life right now and that's pretty much the worst feeling. Like Jack's birthday? I have pretty much taped his celebration together. I know the grandparents don't care. I know Jack certainly doesn't care. (I have a present, cake, and water balloons, so I think he's good to go.) But *I* care. I LIKE parties. I LIKE going out of my way. I LIKE making a big deal of things. I LIKE putting all the elements together. But for whatever reason I just do not have it in me to throw a color-coordinated heavily-themed shindig this year. I KNOW THIS IS OKAY. I AM STILL FRUSTRATED.

(Where Thirty Something Me has improved over Twenty Something Me is that she knows when to give up. See: yesterday's post where I decided in advance that Nothing Will Get Done On Babysitting Days. Or the moment I realized I could BUY something for Jack's class treat instead of making those Pinterest brownies that look like Legos.) 

I'm allowing too much TV and too much sugar. I'm a fairly useless wife. My house... just don't look too closely.The deck stairs thing is still not figured out. I have a million things to return and a million things to buy and I keep forgetting that stupid library book. Do I even know where that library book IS? My work ethic has mainly been directed towards my front yard (which is ALMOST looking awesome) and reading books that prevent me from making dinner on time. ...or any dinner at all.

(But WORTH IT. A hundred thumbs up for Eleanor & Park. Swoon.)

I know this is just a Feeling that will Pass, but man, it SUCKS in the meantime. Phillip worked from home today and when I returned from my various drop offs and shopping trips and gas filling I flounced into the office and brain-vomited all over him. "TOO MANY THINGS ON MY PLATE," I shouted at him, although I can't be sure, I was talking so fast I might not have been speaking English. 

When you're a Three (THERE SHE GOES AGAIN!) and you feel valued for what you DO, it is a stinky sucky feeling when you realize: hey, I'm doing a SHODDY JOB OF EVERYTHING.

 

In which THANK GOD I did not sell my double stroller (WAIT. NOT PREGNANT.)

There's this new apartment building nearish my house, one of those huge complexes with commercial space underneath, and I keep wondering how big one of those spaces might be, what the rent is, would it have a kitchen? 

Even though Katie and I are seemingly light years away from opening our own bakery. For one thing, Katie just recently got a job. (MAKING PIE.) And for another, we have very small children. One of whom has been High Needs since birth, another who has only become a clingy separation-anxious mess in the last month or two. I guess I have those two other kids, but they're a breeze compared to the babies. 

And I'm babysitting my niece once a week now. I have been ready and willing to do so since she was born, I'm DELIGHTED to spend extra time with her, and one of my great hopes is that she and Emma will be good friends. 

So the first time was two weeks ago and THANK GOD my mom was here. I came down with the worst cold I've had in forever and I could barely take care of my own kids let alone Lil Miss FPC. I basically laid face down on the couch while my sainted mother did all the work. 

Last week my BIL took the day off - no babysitting for me!

THIS week I am back on the schedule and my mom is not going to be here. Fortunately I am feeling much better. Unfortunately Lil Miss FPC is going through an even clingier than usual phase. Fortunately I am prepared with an Ergo, a Baby FPC-friendly agenda, sunshine, and many many cheese cubes. Unfortunately Miss EJ is making me crazy with the clingy. Fortunately I still have my double stroller! Unfortunately EJ isn't particularly fond of being within striking distance of her cousin. Fortunately I've already informed my sister that I may take up day drinking and she was cool with it. 

We'll see, right? I think the largest part of the battle, for me, is just making it abundantly clear to myself that I will get nothing done on Thursday except keep one big girl and two smaller ones fed, clean, dry, and reasonably happy. (If Baby FPC chooses to sob all day long that's just going to be her own fault.) There will be no digging in the yard, no folding clothes, no brilliant blog posts written, at least not between the school day hours when I have Baby FPC. (And let's be honest, it's not like I'm cleaning bathrooms or doing dishes on the other days anyway.)

AND THAT'S FINE. It really is. So many days I want to feel responsible for nothing else except keeping everyone alive and now I get to do that on a regular basis! But I know it's going to be rough, at least until Baby FPC either lightens up or resigns herself to spending a few hours with her horrid aunt once a week. Katie and Baby FPC were just here this afternoon and there was shrieking and howling when Katie got up and went across the ROOM. This does not bode well for the person staying with Baby FPC when Katie is across TOWN. 

She better bring me some pie. 

Anyway, all of that to say: how in the WORLD are the two of us going to find the time and energy to open a BUSINESS? We always knew it was kind of crazypants, but hanging out with our two babies today it felt like triple crazypants. Not that they'll be this way forever, but will there ever be a time when we feel like we HAVE time? I have no idea. A lot of the grand ideas are fleshed out (as fleshed out as they can be at this point) so a lot of the initial excitement has waned. I already know what we're going to serve. I already know what I want it to look like. There's not a whole lot left to imagine. But who knows when we'll be able to start making it REAL. 

Watermelon for dinner

It was 84 degrees in Seattle today. Instead of working like a dog in my front yard during Emma's nap, I grabbed the Agatha Christie I stole from my sister's house, made myself a Peach Oatmeal Smoothie in my craptastic personal-size blender, and sat on my deck for a good long while. Am now lobster-colored. WORTH IT. 

It's one of those evenings where I'm all, "Shoot, all that stuff I put on my calendar a couple weeks ago is happening, like, all at once, PASS THE MEDICATION." Dentist appointments, swim lessons, dinner parties, a certain almost-six-year-old's birthday... ack. Oh, and the deck stairs and slide. I was supposed to get my final numbers on Friday, but of course that didn't happen. I just sent a cheery little email to the contractor, subtext being, "HURRY UP, DUDE."

Anyway... things are getting all different again? Like EJ is now this clingy, uber-attached, easily pissed off little thing? Right now she's screaming bloody murder because when I took her out of her high chair (where she was happily coloring) I just... PUT HER DOWN. Standing. On the floor. Next to nothing. AND THEN I WALKED AWAY. HOW DARE I. 

She spent a few minutes standing there shrieking, then another few minutes shrieking at Jack as he tried to help her walk to the living room (SHE'S TRYING TO MAKE A POINT, STOP HELPING HER), and then a few overly dramatic minutes falling to her knees, then getting back up, then falling, then getting back up. All the while screaming. BECAUSE HOW DARE I. 

But look - she's over it! Time for EJ to get used to being one of the Cheung kids, which means finding other things to do while your mother gives all her attention to the internet. 

THAT, anyway, is why I haven't exactly been utilizing that Y membership. The kids are doing swim lessons there and we've gone a few times for the rec swim, but tomorrow morning IDEALLY I would head to the Y directly after kindergarten drop off, stick the girls in childcare and use the treadmill until it's time for Molly's lesson. But I'm totally nervous to leave Emma there. I wasn't the first time. I felt okay about trying again, but she's gotten WORSE. All my best friends have to do is look at her and she starts crying. So it just sounds STRESSFUL to try and leave her there. Right now. I don't know. 

Maybe that's part of the whole "season" thing. This is not the season of consistently working out while one's daughter cheerfully plays in the amazing babylicious playroom. 

What the kids are wearing these days

Being proper Seattleites, my children demanded to go to the indoor pool on this beautiful 83 degree day. "How about the sprinkler!" I suggested. "I'll fill up the pool!" That was good for maybe half an hour. "Mommy it's too hooooottttt." After that it was, "Can we go to the YYYYYYYYYY?" 

Damn the Y. But also GOD BLESS THE Y. Best ridiculous monthly bill I've ever signed up for. Now if Emma could just suck it up and stop crying in childcare we'd be golden. 

While Phillip took the big kids to the Y, Emma and I stopped at the nearby Fred Meyer. OSTENSIBLY I was looking for flip flops for the big kids, but I ended up buying, ah, summer wardrobes. I keep being delighted with all the clothes I already HAVE for Emma, and wondering why my big kids have nothing summery to wear and/or shoes that fit and/or jeans without holes and/or skirts that aren't scandalously short. I really did mean to buy JUST FLIP FLOPS, but I left the store with something like forty-seven shirts and thirty-nine pairs of capri pants for Molly. Oh, and a few shirts and shorts for Jack. We just finished modeling everything for Daddy and I'm pleased AND horrified that everything fit perfectly. I kept thinking, "Oh, that'll be too big, but better too big than too small! She'll grow into it! It has an adjustable waist, so we're all good!" (WE DID NOT NEED THE ADJUSTABLE WAIST.) 

But you guys, this was the first time I shopped in the Bigger Girl area. Not the infant and toddler section, the 4-6X section, and DUDES. There was exactly one rack of the type of clothes I would dress my kid in. The rest was Mini-Teenager, Mini-Hoochie-Teenager, Branded Sparkly Horrors, and Just Plain Ugly. I have some definite Feelings about age-appropriate clothing, but other than that I don't think I'm too picky. I often let Molly pick her own clothes, I'm learning to get over it if it doesn't match perfectly, and as long as it's clean and fits I will abide the layers upon layers of hot pink tulle. HOWEVER. I was surprised at how many things I would never ever let her wear, on account of Hideosity. Is that a word? It is now. There are always a lot of hideous clothes, but in the Bigger Girl Section at Fred Meyer, the hideous was about 90%.

What was not hideous? The teeny little Carters section where I bought the heaps of t-shirts and capri pants. And one pair of shorts because they were the only Not Booty Shorts That Also Matched The Shirts that I could find. SHEESH. These are just play clothes and all the colors and patterns mixed and matched and they don't SAY things, they aren't BEDAZZLED, they aren't trying to be sixteen. Carters 4Eva! 

I thought I should probably buy Jack some things too, as he's just in need as Molly, he's just not as... well, honestly, he and I are both fine if he wants to wear his googly-eyed shark t-shirt four days in a row. (Not to school. I have a nice assortment of brownnosey polo shirts for school.) But he needed a few pairs of shorts and some new t-shirts and I bought the only three t-shirts in the store that were not 1) camoflage or 2) stamped with skull and bones graphics. NO SKULLS AND BONES. HE IS [ALMOST] SIX. NO NO NO. YUCK. 

Sorry. I have opinions. 

I also don't want things smothered in sports pictures or dirt bikes or motorcycles or cutesy-tough sayings. YUCK! There are certain things Jack likes. For a while I was buying bug or sea creature shirts. Dinosaur shirts. Now I'm on the lookout for superhero shirts that aren't nine hundred dollars. But they still need to be CUTE. These shirts are TERRIBLE. 

And it's not just Fred Meyer, it's anywhere where kid clothes are relatively inexpensive. There are always cute things at the cute stores, but sometimes I just want a stack of five dollar t-shirts he can get dirty at the playground. Is it too much to ask that I not hate whatever is pictured on the front? ANNOYING. 

I feel like I have the rest of my life to disapprove of what my children are wearing. I don't need to start NOW.

Anyway, this is why I buy five dozen plain colored t-shirts from Old Navy before school starts. Of course these are worn out immediately, but at least I don't actively dislike them. 

GET OFF MY LAWN!

Ahem. 

My neighbor? The parking police? She made a point to smile at me as I drove by yesterday. What do you think THAT means, hmm? 

I'm going to go put my kids to bed, open a Beer of Mexico, and make my husband sit on the deck with me and appreciate the weather. Happy Sunday evening. 

Time again for the overly earnest love letter to the Internet

Earlier this year I volunteered to be on the prayer team for a regional for-college-students retreat. Whenever we'd meet we'd spend a little bit of time sharing how we're doing, what we're feeling, what' we're SENSING - prayer team people can truly be touchy feely weirdos. Anyway, this one woman, who up to this point I had put on a pedestal*, busted out with something like, "I don't know guys, I just feel like our ONLINE CULTURE is something we should concentrate on, just how people aren't having REAL relationships, it's all FACEBOOK and whatever that Twitter thing is, and we're not leaving our homes and engaging with REAL PEOPLE -" I may have tuned her out at that point, lest my blood boil over and I Explode With Rage in the quiet peaceful prayer room. 

Well, not really. I'm more of a Seethe With Rage type who then blogs about it later. And I took her point. We all know icky stories, right? But that whole viewpoint hasn't rung true for me at ALL, in fact it's been quite the OPPOSITE, and it was my love for my online community that caused me to break character and blurt out, "BUT IT'S BEEN SO LIFEGIVING FOR MEEEEEE." 

Seriously, I think most of us here would say that the internet has UN-isolated us, right? Every single time a real life mom friend tells me she's struggling I say, "HAVE YOU TRIED TWITTER?" (Not helpful.) (Except it WOULD BE.) (Anyway.) 

These last few days I've been helping figure out some Blathering stuff and once again I'm totally overjoyed by the flurry of sign ups. Caused, of course, by the fact that we decided to reduce the number of attendees and maybe that lit a few fires under a few undecided butts. GOOD. 

Something else that was out of character - I loved the 60 person head count last year. Put a little wine in me and I become an extrovert, what can I say. And these were 60 people I REALLY wanted to meet! But it always helps to be one of the people throwing the party (why do you think I'm so devoted to my Christmas party and terrified of going to YOUR parties?) and also it was my third time. I was not afraid! I had great faith in awesomeness of the ladies of the internet!

We cut it back to 40 mainly because the logistics were creating nightmares, but I'm pretty sure I'll love 40 even more than I loved 60. It totally absolutely sucks to not have everyone there who wants to be, but I'm hopeful I'll have more time with the people who ARE there. And just a note, for those of you who can't make it: I have a big house and several barely used air mattresses. That was a Hint. 

I kind of want to drag Formerly On A Pedestal Prayer Lady to the Blathering (by her hair) and be all, "APPRECIATE THE AWESOME." Because of this group of ladies I have people who can answer questions when my kids are sick, who know how anxiety feels, who love the same books, who love to write, who send me presents when I'm bummed, who text me when they have a funny story, who chat with me during naptime, who un-isolate me. And they are always game for another glass of wine.

Anyway, I felt like I was due for a Rah Rah Internet post. There you go. I should probably go do what I SAID I was going to do tonight, which is update the attendee list. FINE THEN. 

 

*On a pedestal because, well, she's basically the sort of Pacific Northwest hippie mama I sometimes want to be, with the most beautiful voice, fantastic hair, a great sense of humor, kick ass mother of FIVE, wise, compassionate (except about the internet) AND SHE HAS A NOSE RING.