Less than a week

Less than a week

Less than a week to Nova's bithday and I can't even tell you how bad that sucks. I look at kids his age and they're walking and starting to talk, and google over Christmas lights and stuff. Trish came over today and I was watching Ryan toddle around and I thought, "He's so little, Nova would tower over him..." Of course, who knows if that's really true, post-surgery heart babies have a lot of issues, especially with feeding, so maybe he'd have been small. I'll just never know, but I can't help but think about that sort of thing when I see kids 'his age.'

While she was here Scott's mom called. Our phone service is that digital phone, and it's been screwy lately - it keeps sending calls straight to the voice messaging service, which would be ok if we knew to check the messages, but when you're home, and the phone doesn't ring, you have no reason to believe you've missed any calls, and have no reason to think you need to check your messages... Well she's called 3 times in the last couple of days and has only gotten our voice mail, and has assumed we just weren't returning her calls. Now I feel badly that she thought, for days, that we just didn't want to talk to her. She and I generally don't talk a lot, and she isn't the mushy type, so when she found out Scott wasn't home, and kept talking, it was kind of weird, we just don't really talk a lot. But when she started talking about this being the first Thanksgiving without Randy... well, now I'm worried about her, that just isn't like her. I'm worried enough that I called Scott at work to talk to him about it, and I never call him when he's working.

Anyway, I'm making a cake that looks like this:

It's the graphic from Nova's blog.
We're taking it, and several toys and things, to CVRU in honor of his first birthday. I'm looking forward to it, and dreading it too. By then, we'll be working up to 8 months since his death, and I still wish I'd wake up...

Merry Christmas 2006

Merry Christmas 2006

Yesterday/Today

Yesterday/Today

Yesterday I was thankful. Today I'm just sad and tired.


~
OK I had to come back to this. It's misleading. I am not just sad and tired. At the moment of that statement, I was sad and tired and...well, wishful. But my ass didn't hit the couch before I was mulling it over. And yes, today, as always, there is still MUCH to be thankful for. Today, my house is decked out in Christmas decorations, and I have a tree in my storage building, in a bucket of water, waiting for some family to come along in need of one. I'm lucky to have the opportunity to give some other parent(s) the gift of that sparkle in their kids' eyes when they see the lights on the tree, all decorated for Santa. And this tree found me (thanks again Sheryl!) Nothing lifts my spirits more than having that opportunity. I wish I had a dozen Christmas trees to give away!

Sure I'm thankful for what I have, and I'm even more thankful for what I get to give away.

I'm Thankful

I'm Thankful



What are you thankful for?

That was a question posed on the mommy board I belong to, and I couldn't answer it without being all mushy and philosophical. Sometimes being philosophical makes me feel like a nerd, so I'll save that for here.

Truth is, I think I could get away with feeling sorry for myself this year. You guys would let me, I know you would. But I don't want to, because I don't feel sorry for myself. Much. Or often. Maybe a little, sometimes, but I think I have a lot to be thankful for.

I am thankful for nearly 15 years with the most wonderful man in the universe. I'm thankful that after a decade and a half he still thinks I have a sexy ass, and can make my toes curl. I'm thankful that he seems to read my mind, sense my emotions, and understand me better than I do myself. I'm thankful that he's still willing to wake up next to me after the grey hair appeared, after gravity struck, and all we've been through. And I'm thankful, most of all, that we've found our way to one another through the loss of our son, rather than falling apart.

I'm thankful for a hectic house full of chaos and mess, for 5 pairs of shoes and 10 individual socks that litter the floor at all times. I'm thankful for school projects and lost papers. I'm thankful for 5 sleepy kisses at the end of each day because they come from the 5 greatest kids I have, and I love them - even when they're making me insane.

I'm thankful for a best friend, with whom I can cry, laugh, bitch, joke and whine - generally all in the course of any one telephone conversation. I'm thankful that we can be there to support one another through the bad and celebrate each other's good times. I'm thankful that she loves me enough to be honest with me and tell me when I'm wrong, and put me in my place when I need it, and that she loves me enough to stop me, whenever possible, from sticking my foot in my mouth.

I'm thankful for all the people I met throughout (or because of) Nova's life.I have been very lucky to have come to know some of the most wonderful, generous loving people I could hope to meet. Their presence, be it physical or virtual, has made all the difference in my life this year.

I am thankful for the fact that I've managed, somehow, through losing Nova, to find the bright spots when I needed them, the positivities when I could have been overwhelmed by the negative. I'm thankful for every warm thought, every wish and prayer, that were, and continue to be, sent my way. They've served as oxygen when I I couldn't hold my head above water, and buoyed me when I thought I was going under for the final time.

I'm thankful for the opportunities that have arisen for me, the chances to raise awareness, and for every penny donated in Nova's name in hopes that it will make a difference in the future. I'm thankful for the compassion I've received, and the generosity that's been shown to me so often over the last year.

I'm thankful that I'm able to find places, and ways, to return that giving spirit to the world. I'm thankful for the struggle, and the reward. I'm thankful for the dark's habit of accentuating the light. I'm thankful that I can still smile, I'm thankful for love.

And I'm thankful that he was mine.

CRAP

CRAP

Some days, it just doesn't pay to bother getting out of bed. Those days are easily identified. They're the ones that, when you open your eyes in the morning, you want to close them again because you already know someone is going to be mad at you (or rather, hurt by something you did, but didn't mean to do) - but can't, so you get up and every thing you have planned goes to shit. Then, because of the wealth of crap going wrong in your day, you're feeling pissy enough that you realize that - that other thing you wanted to do? Yeah, probably better not, cuz pissiness isn't entertaining at get togethers, and you don't want to make anyone uncomfortable because of your bad mood and self-puty....

Then, you say something genuine, and somehow it is misinterpreted and you get sort of slapped in the teeth for it, and you're like, whoa... wow.

Then, someone else comes along and says something that you're not really sure how it should be taken, but it makes you feel like you're getting slapped in the teeth again.

Then, someone shows up at your door to pick up some baby clothes that you agreed to part with, but all of a sudden you feel kinda melty/mushy/clingy/weepy and don't want to give them up, but you have to anyway.

Is it friggin' bed time yet? Cuz I apparently should have left my eyes, and my mouth, shut VERY TIGHTLY, this morning. It just hurts my feelings whenever someone feels like I have done something to offend them. I cry like a friggin' baby over stuff lately anyway, but damn. I could have done without crying because I inadvertantly made someone else feel badly.

Projects

Projects

So I have a new project or two. I seem to need projects that have positive endings, and that provide a point in the future on which to focus. So UCM is working with a local organization and doing a canned food drive that will benefit the poor in our community. I am broke like no one knows, but I can damn well drum up donations. So I sent my kids out with little red wagons to collect door-to-door. So far I have 4 flats of veggies, and four good sized boxes of various canned/boxed non-perishables. Not all of it was collected by them, but all I'm saying is that my bedroom is beginning to disappear under a pile of boxes full of food. That makes me smile.

Another thing we're doing is sponsoring a family that currently lives in the local battered women's shelter. The shelter has long been my charity of choice, and I donate there a lot. Over the years they have been on the receiving end of the deal when my children outgrow their toys, clothes, furniture etc... I also do a Thanksgiving dinner and a Christmas dinner every year that goes to a family that they've assisted throughout the year. But I've never been part of actually sponsoring a family's Christmas, until now.

I've gotten lucky in that I've managed to fall into a real, live, free Christmas tree for them, and the meal I always donate will, this year, go directly to them. It's cool to do the meal anyway, but this year, having an idea of who this family is just makes it more fun to do.

And of course, I'm doing some shopping for Nova's birthday too. The nurses put their heads together and decided that the one thing that the babies in CVRU love most is the Fisher Price Crib Aquarium. They had 2, but one has gone MIA, and one just isn't enough... Unfortunately there is usually more than one baby in their care at all times. So I'm going to donate one, and a few other things, and I'm making a cake. I hope it doesn't suck ;) I'm no baker.

Of course, there is Christmas for my own household to contend with. I've begun shopping for the kids, but they keep changing their lists so I'm still afraid to buy much because they might just not want what I buy if I don't give them time to come to a final decision. The older boys both want money. And haven't changed their minds. That feels awfully impersonal to me, but they each have things they want to buy that we can't afford to get them (Nintendo Wii for example) and so they've told everyone that cash is best. I can't decide if I can really just give them money. We shall see.

So all of these plans and projects put me focusing on a point verrrrrrry close to the new year. At some point shortly into the new year, while everyone is still nursing their credit cards back to health, the Kintera site for the American Heart Association will open back up. Once that happens, I have a few projects in 'draft mode' so to speak that I'll be able to kick into action then.

I hope to, eventually, get to a point where I can maintain some semblance of sanity without having to distract myself with major projects. Until then, I'm thankful that I have the projects I have, and that there are no gaping holes in the timeline between them.

Verbal Grammar vs Written Grammar

Verbal Grammar vs Written Grammar

I am a grammar freak. I write, reread, proofread, edit, rewrite, and repeat as necessary. Granted, I've been lax lately, especially with that ever-so-simple spellcheck button, but lately I have (hypocritically) higher expectations when reading others' writing than I do my own. It's laziness when it comes to my own. Just writing is enough work for me lately - but reading and automatically seeing errors in other things I'm reading is just, well, habit. An infuriating one. I'd like to be able to read something for the joy of reading (the way that lately I write simply for release, rather than perfection.) It's difficult to enjoy a book/blogpost/forum entry when you're hung up on the fact that they used "gave" instead of "given."

I find too that when I speak, my grammar is far less than perfect. I'm a fountain of colloquialisms, slang, and basic butchering of the English language. I guess because I speak like white trash, but write more formally, I assume others do the same. I am perpetually amazed to see that others type the same way they write.

But then, I'm weird. I know that. I try to embrace that. So what's this post about? Boredom I think.

Tavern!

Want this badge?

This week I have completely lost my mind in Holiday stuff I'm doing off-line and, somehow, completely forgot about the Tavern. That is until I checked my email today and saw a letter from Laurie:

Hey Erin, I see that no one volunteered for the tavern. I hate to see us miss a week! I'll do it, but give me until Sunday night to post it. Deadline: Sunday noon or earlier. Topic: just send your best of the week!

http://slowlysheturned.net
Laurie
Thank you Laurie for bringing me to my senses, and saving my rear end!
Everyone send their entries in to laurie at lponeill(at)att(dot)net By Sunday noon, for a special late edition of the Tavern!

Good Stuff

I have died and gone to some alternate reality where the absurdly perfect has happened.

Dooce, queen of all that is honest, and female, and sarcastic, and hilarious, and irreverant and, well, good, is going to be on CNN.

I am, however, only the queen of forgetting that something I want to see is coming on. As in, I've been trying to watch Regan's Rants on the local news channel since Regan White interviewed me in September for the Charlotte Weekly story (scroll down to pg 10.) I even posted myself a note on the side of my monitor, where it has hung, unnoticed, for 2 months. I have yet to watch Regan's Rants. I cuss myself every Saturday. Every. Saturday. So needless to say, I am praying for an early Christmas present that consists of one of two things: A) a memory that works or B) TiVo. She hasn't actually announced the air date yet, but dear GOD let me please please remember to watch it when she does.

If...

If you don't want anything to do with me, don't email me (repeatedly.) If my views offend you, don't continue (or re-open) a previously closed conversation.If you don't want me on your blog, don't send me links to it. Duh. And after harrassing me and insulting me, don't have the audacity to suggest that I change my long-standing email signature for you.

Most importantly though, when you realize that I'm not going to play your little psycho head games, don't go all high school. It's really unbecoming. Amusing, but unbecoming.

Thanks for the laugh though!

There are the geese, back again

There are the geese, back again

There are the geese, back again.

Seventy-five degrees in mid-November
and it seems the leaves are the only things
that recognize the calendar's truth
and abandon their altitude.

I wonder, when they fall,
if they've given in to death
or if they wrinkle up their dry faces,
crinkle-close their eyes
and wish for an easy Floridian retirement.

Their lives are so short
their lips so dry and fragile
and yet, the ones I pity are those
yet dangling, lifeless, in naked trees.

I Am Amused

I Am Amused

Tonight, I defended the concept of Freedom of Speech. I don't have to agree with what people say, hell, I don't even have to subject myself to reading it. But I do defend their right to say it.

Now my regular readers will know exactly how I feel about racism, homophobia, and any other form of prejudice or hatred. See that title up there? Poetic ACCEPTANCE. That is my philosophy, acceptance. And I whole heartedly disagree with those frames of mind that alienate any group of people based on color, race, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, etc...

BUT, I stand by my opinion that, despite my disagreement, racists, homophobes and whatever other groups of ridiculously hate-filled ignorant people have the right to express their beliefs and opinions.

Because you see, I like expressing my own opinions, and to say that people I disagree with don't have the right to speak, well... How long do you figure it would take them to say they disagree with me and say that I have no right to speak, based on their disagreement with my views?

So, here I am, trying to explain this. Trying to explain that I don't agree with racist views expressed on racist websites, but that I defend freedom. Well let me tell you, they were mightily offended! They went from zero to self-righteous in .03 seconds and immediately clamped down, refused to hear what I was saying, and... get this... forbade me to visit their blog ever again because she wanted nothing to do with a person with "these views."

OK, so... You don't agree with my views so I'm not welcome to read your blog? Well, haha, ok. So be it. Guess I'll stink up the place or something, I don't know. Struck me as pretty absurd, but hey, different strokes. I can accept that.

The part that really made me laugh? She A) questioned what I teach my children (you see, she's suddenly lumped me in with the racists now, without so much as making any attempt to learn what my views really are, and assumes, apparently, that when I tuck them in at night, I must surely tell them stories from the KKK's Nursery Rhyme pamphlets) and B) told me that the banner at the bottom of the page for Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep was 'disturbing.' Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep is a network of professional photographers who does charity work by offering their services to bereaved parents, and those who have found out that their child is terminal. That too, somehow, is offensive? That one I don't get.

Want to take bets? Gee, I'll betcha a nickle to a doughnut she had no idea what Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep was, and JUMPED TO CONCLUSIONS!

I feel a bit sorry for this person. I cannot imagine how difficult, miserable, and draining, life must be when you expend so much energy on anger and self-righteous indignation! But the good news is, she has the right to say everything she said, and I have the right to blog about it.

It's a thing of beauty indeed.

bleh

I missed Mona Lisa this year. She's already naked, save for a few bunches of deep red berries. I don't know how I managed to miss her fall foliage, I normally gravitate to her in the autumn. But then, I'm not gravitating toward the same things so much anymore. I'm gravitating toward new things. Things that are, in their own right, beautiful, but in vastly different ways. I've started really throwing myself into social situations, when those of you who've known me have always known that I had serious hermit tendencies. I'm trying to force myself to do the thing that everyone seemed to want me to do after Alexis. Get back to living, rejoin reality...

I find myself really grappling with this new sense of normalcy. There is a new Erin I haven't gotten to know yet. I think I'm trying too hard because I'm aware now that these are things I'm supposed to find. Before, it just happened (though admittedly, it didn't happen well.) This time I'm ready to find it, do it and get it done already.

I'm rushing me, and it just isn't really working out. I should know better, and just let it happen, but I don't make the conscious decision to do much of anything anymore. I'm on autopilot, and it seems to be programmed to the "go" setting. Sometimes I look up and realize I'm being dragged along, sort of like the bullrider that falls off but gets his hand stuck in the rope. Then I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I saddled up in the first place.

Weird. Passive proactive. Is there such a thing? I just do what I think I'm supposed to do without thinking about what I'm doing.

I'm pushing myself (whether by choice or not) too hard, and I know this because the people and things I've always enjoyed are no longer enjoyable. Like poetry. Just thinking of writing is draining.

Unwritten

Unwritten
This song makes me smile:

Unwritten
by Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, yeah, yeah

And this song makes me cry:

Hate Me
by Blue October
I have to block out thoughts of you, so I don't lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you, Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face
And will you never try to reach me, it is I that wanted space

(Chorus)
Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me for all the things i didn't do for you.
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow.
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.

(Verse 2)
I'm sober now for 3 whole months, it's one accomplishment that you helped me with.
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again.
In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate.
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I'll drive so fucking far away that I'll never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

(Chorus)
Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me for all the things i didn't do for you.
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow.
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.

(Verse 3)
And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I have made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling "Make it go away!"
Just make her smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered "How can you do this to me?"

(Chorus)
Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me for all the things i didn't do for you.
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow.
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.

Listening to them back to back, on repeat, it's kind of like a manic depressive on crack. Up, down, up, down, updownupdownupdown. Weeeeee.

Actually, I have to say, it's been a good day. Most days I'm finding it really hard to get anything done. No motivation. Lots of "If I just Lay Here" (another favorite song lately - but I'm too lazy to find the lyrics for you and I can't find it on Yahoo Music. It's by Snow Patrol, if it's really important - go steal it with Limewire ;) ) days. But if I make myself get up (I manage that with varying degrees of success) and get something accomplished, it really helps. So yesterday, I gardened. Well, actually, I ungardened. I dug out and removed an assload of big cacti along the side of my yard and did a lot of autumn pruning, all in anticipation of separating all my lilies and replanting a bunch of them where the cacti were. I'm also doing some mental planning for a new flower bed in my front yard, with an arbor and a bird bath, some dusty miller and some lilies and some wisteria and something that cascades (suggestions anyone?) and some annuals like maybe pansies. Lots of color and movement, and if I can get the damn stray cat to go away, maybe even some birds. Again, I love left overs, rescues, and freecycle, we have an arbor, got the bird bath for free through freecycle, the lilies have multiplied so much I could do my whole yard in them, the only we have a new rescue azalea bush, plenty of dusty miller to separate and use, Wisteria grows like mad on the road sides in the spring... I think all I'll need to buy is a flat or 2 of Pansies, and the cascading whatever thingy.

Today I spent hours blowing leaves. Scott is the yard guy, by way of owning the equipment and doing it for a living. I, however, just like to play with his tools, and the leaf blower is my favorite of his toys. It's mindless work, and it's loud, which means no one bothers even trying to ask you anything. It allows me to accomplish something while remaining in my own little detached reality. The leaf blower affords me the opportunity to have the best of both worlds. I accomplish something, feel productive, but without having to actually deal with reality or think too hard about what I'm doing. 'Tis good.

And now I'm immersed in music, with headphones, while blogging, and chair dancing. I'll probably crash later, but right now, I almost feel human (Haven't had a shower since I did the yard work so I don't necessarily smell human, but whatever) and life doesn't suck too bad for now.

Funniest thing I've Read Today

Funniest thing I've Read Today
on Rosie's Blog, in "Ask Ro"

Michael writes:
Since Britney is dumping KFed... should we now call him FedEx?

LMFAO! That is all.

click it, quick!

I no longer enjoy blogging.

It's too much like work, requires so much energy. I read as much as Bloglines (and y'all's settings) will allow, but surfing is too hard, and replies are completely beyond me a lot of times. I am tired, and numb. And it sucks that I feel like I've gotten worse rather than better. It's pretty "normal" in the context of grief to have a sort of honeymoon period before it all comes crashing down. I know this, I expected this, but it still sucks. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of feeling like a lousy wife and mother and friend. I worry that those of you who were there for me all along will think I'm just being ungrateful, or just an ass.

And yet, those worries don't change a thing.

So I come here and open a new post and the cursor blinks expectantly and I try to stare it down, but usually I lose and go to bed defeated. Sometimes I start a post, like this one. Type a while then realize I'm not making any sense or that my entry is so completely disorganized that it's mostly gibberish. Being a writer with a love of the revision process is my downfall lately. I still expect the quality, but haven't got the energy to acheive it, don't feel like proofreading and editing, so I either save as a draft or just close the damn window...

Anyway, I'm going to shut up before I become illiterate, hit publish post before I change my mind.

Lova you guys.

Give up

Monday morning I woke up early, and the frost made it abundantly clear that it was too cold to go rushing out for my first cigarette. By 9:30 though, the sun had gotten strong enough to melt the rime and I headed outside. I sat on the step and lit a cigarette and mulled over the implications of the day. It was cold enough that I was having trouble figuring out when it was smoke I was exhaling, and when it was just my breath. It was Monday. It was the 6th. It was the 7 month anniversary of Nova's death. Less than a month to his birthday. It all always degrades to that. 7 months later and I still count the days and weeks, I still wake up knowing the 2nd and the 6th without looking at a calendar. Sometimes what the head doesn't know, the heart does.

There is a line of trees at the back of the yard that separates us from the railroad tracks. It runs from the east corner of our yard to the west corner of the neighbor's, and it's grown too tall to block the noise of the trains, the branches are too high above the noise to catch and hold it. The birds though, the limbs are perfect for the birds. And as I sat there sifting through the mental detritus, a birdsong filtered through. 2 actually. One coming from the tree directly in front of me, and one that answered from a tree on down the row. Dee dee dee doo.... dee dee dee doo. Dee dee doo... dee dee doo. Whatever the first said, the second repeated, syllable for syllable, until the fellow from the neighbor's yard fell silent. No matter how many times the first one called, all that returned was nothing. I don't know if I imagined it, maybe so, but the song seemed to grow sadder. The notes were the same, but they were somehow duller. He continued to sing. Over and over, over and over, but there was nothing.

There on my side porch, trying to decipher smoke from breath, my ass frozen to the concrete step, I cried for that damned bird, and for the brightness that had fallen from his song, and for the heartbreak of calling and calling, despite the absence. I cried for the pitifulness of his hope that if he just sang long enough, the other would return.

Later that afternoon Terra and I came home from lunch with Trish and some other women, and I gave Terra this toy I'd originally gotten to donate to the hospital on Nova's birthday. It's used though, and I can't donate it. Terra had heard it in the back of the van playing this obnoxious song, and when she asked what it was, I had told her that it was a toy for the babies in the hospital. When I gave it to her at home she recognized the song and reminded me that I'd told her what I was going to do with it. She played with it very happily, then looked up at me and said "Mommy, guess what!? Nova's gonna LOVE this when he sees it!"

Apparently, all this time, Terra was under the impression that he was still at the hospital, that we just left him there and stopped going to see him. She thought that he was still coming home and that all this talk of toys for the babies there meant we were going to visit him. I had to explain it all all over again, how he wasn't at the hospital anymore, that he wasn't ever coming home. I don't know if I believe in Heaven, but when she asked where he was that's what I told her. And she said, through big tears, "Dophalin had to go to Heaven Mommy? But whyyyyyy?"

He'd been gone 7 months to the day, but as far as she was concerned, she'd just lost her baby brother. She cried and cried and cried until she gave up and fell silent.

She was the second little bird I cried for that day. And damn it, I'm still crying. I just wonder when I'll finally accept that it's pointless to cry into the emptiness.

Porn

Porn.

We all know it's out there. I'm not offended by (most of) it, and I'll even admit to enjoying a little of it ocassionally. I just happen to be of the mind that it should be enjoyed singularly, or with your partner. Am I wrong? Does an adult man who feels the overwhelming need to send out mass emails full of porn still get like cool points or something? Or is it as immature as it strikes me?

So Scott has this friend he races with in rFactor. They're a good bunch of guys and Scott loves his racing. But this one guy... I'm beginning to wonder if this guy isn't a teenager. You expect on some level for a teenage boy to be like,"Dude, check out this picture!" but as you get older, you kind of figure out that the other guys have already seen all those parts and pieces and positions, right? Don't you reach a point in life where you get over the urge to show off the pictures of the naked people doing things you only wish you could?

So anyway, this guy is forever sending forwards with porn. I always know when Scott gets one of these emails, because I hear this exasperated sigh from the other side of the room. It might be different if Scott actually liked getting the stuff, if he enjoyed the pictures or whatever, you know what I mean? Scott just isn't all that thrilled. He generally deletes them without opening them. He's asked the guy to stop sending it (Yes, really. I saw the email he sent.) but the guy just keeps sending it. I think it's kind of disrespectful to keep sending it if you've been asked to stop.

Maybe some day soon this guy will grow up enough to figure out that not every man who gets online is there to check out the porn.

Erin Monahan x12

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 12 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

God help them I hope they all have better luck than mine.

Yes, thank you for asking, I AM having a feel sorry for myself day. Terra is puking and shitting everywhere and has been for hours. She is NEVER sick, which means that A) I'm unprepared for the sudden mid-dinner onset of vomiting and B) she's finding it difficult to cope with being sick as she has no practice.

Those who have no children (or weak stomachs) stop here.

Still with me? OK, you were forewarned.

She at one point -in an unsuccessful run for the bathroom- wretched some unidentified lake of gunk in the middle of my dining room floor. Scott says "ewww" and I look at him like he's nuts (I mean, it's puke, gimme a break, right?) His reply was, "That sounded like it came out the other end too..." Being right up near the front end, enjoying the views and sounds thereof had masked any other sounds, and I missed the rear-end sound effects, but lo and behold, she'd no only puked all over, she'd left quite the odorific package behind her as well. Thank god for pull-ups. Unfortunately for me though, she's been dirty-diaper free for nearly 2 years and man did she/I/we really lose it over the shitty diaper idea. I was gagging, and she was yellin' "get it off me mommy, get it off!" I have two words for ya. Bath Time.

*sigh*

Plus my moods been rotten, the weather is yucky, my budget has been shot to hell by christmas shopping, and I'm anticipating QUITE the utilities bill this month, what with turning the heat on and all.

I've put in applications here and there, inquired about other jobs that wouldn't require actual applications... nothing. I've been a stay-at-home-mom for 2 1/2 years and apparently I've become unemployable. Like waiting tables is something a mother with 5 kids could possibly become out of practice for?

Tarheel Tavern #89

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+ Jude had a dream, a blogworthy dream - one to which she added photographs. Of it she says "It's all about missing a loved one who's no longer here." I have those dreams too Jude, thanks for sharing yours with us.

• Also, Jude has moved to http://iddybudjournal.blogspot.com/ and those of you who have her blogrolled or bookmarked will probably want to update, lest you miss out on Jude's journaling!

+ Dave from Evolving Education had a meeting about the ABCs, and there was a special bonus portion of the meeting...

+ Marcus posts about programs in the community that improve health status and avoid or decrease "sick care"

+ Dave from AnonyMoses sent me a piece of political poetry called LET us vote then, you and I. Despite my love of poetry, I'm not typically one for political poetry, but this piece, well, let's just say I can relate.

+ ZhaK says school's out over at A Fine Dish. I'm very glad to hear that, aside from an Iguana and a snake, there were no major injuries.

+ Billy, who will be hosting our Tavern next week sends in a bit of poetry, but Beware, the B Word Cometh!

+ Laurie is travelogue-ing from Italy. I'll freely admit to being insanely jealous, but thankful for the opportunity to live vicariously through her ;)

+ Phillip, our outspoken cyclist, blogs about the lost art of exploring.

"part of exploring is noticing what’s there. The other part is making a connection with what you find."

How true that rings!

+ Screwy Hoolie did such a fine job of writing his own intro that I'm not even going to try to improve on it! He says:

"This post explains the powers given to President Bush in the latest Defense Appropriations Bill - an expansion of the power to declare Martial Law being the most disturbing. The post also describes a perfectly reasonable yet terrifically paranoid scenario in which one could be imprisoned during a period of martial law, held without a trial or representation, tortured, and Lord Knows What at the whim of an out-of-control Executive Branch.

The post is a little more "out" than usual for me, but the facts are worth sharing."

+ Trish of Bubbles and Baubles has posted some pictures of her kids (and one of our whole bunch) from Halloween. My nephew (The adorable little guy in red in the first picture) turns one this week, and I just wanted to show him off.

This just in!
This late entry is a blog I'm completely unfamiliar with, and don't think I've ever seen before. Truth be told, even after reading and reading, I can't for the life of me figure out if this blogger is from NC, but hey, they submitted through the carnival submissions form, which is pretty clear about what you're submitting to sO I'm just gonna go with it. Someone solve the mystery for me though eh? Who is Peace Moonbeam!?

And that concludes this weeks Tavern, as always, I'm happy to add late submissions so if you'd like to be included, just shoot me an email (erin@poeticacceptance.com) with the URL of your post and I'll gladly add it in!

As I said, Billy will be hosting next week, and I've had the pleasure of adding some new names on the Hosting schedule and if you'd like to add your name to the list of esteemed hosts, please let me know and I'll add you to the schedule for the Tarheel Tavern!