NO RESPONSE NEEDED

Laughing until I blow snot out of my nose followed by mopping drool from my own chin is one of my all time favorite experiences.

Not always so much while I'm in the office, but I'll take it where I can get it.

I was reading all 8 parts of this post right here.

Happy Thursday. Grab a tissue for chin mopping if you are at all like me.

I'M A LITTLE BIT IRISH

Or so says my mom. She was a Murphy before she married my father. *

* (Turns out I don't know how to spell her former last name. It is Murphey. But as I have given Murphy to my daughter as her middle name, we all have to deal with this spelling, too, now. Isn't that just like me - I'm such a shitty speller that I screw that up. Oh well. Live and learn and then stop having kids so you don't misspell any more family names.)

I have a daughter named Madigan.

My son is busily making a leprechaun trap.

Tomorrow we will dine on Irish soda bread and corned beef with yellow mustard and cabbage and carrots. (The trick is adding the cabbage for just the last 15 minutes. Just enough to soften the leaves, not enough to stink up your house.)

Happy St. Patty's Day to you and yours from the Cupcake Family.

May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

My friend Lisa sent these strange and wonderful old ads to me. And now I share them with you.

I'm now looking for the jaunty douche advertisements of yore and will post them as soon as I find them.

Can't wait!

TALKIN 'BOUT MY BABIES (AND THE WAY THEY ATE)

I nursed both of my babies. For two years. Not two years total, two years a piece. Four years total.

Now is the time to judge me. Think disparaging thoughts, get that icky feeling and make a face. Go for it.

I'll wait.

whistling, polishing my nails, finding some schmutz under one nail, scraping it out with the ...

Oh, OK. We're back. Here we go.

Why do I even mention this, you ask? Well, this lady is hosting a little web event about the boob stories. And I thought - "Hey, my story might be as interesting as any other story about boobs. I should share!"

Where to begin? Well, at the beginning, I guess.

Madigan, my first born, was huge. Eleven pounds, one ounce. And following her birth (which finally came by C-section eleven days and endless hours of labor after her due date, thank the lord) she had a small heart duct closure problem which caused her to have a heart murmur. The treatment for this ailment was a course of medication that tended to constrict the intestines and so NO FOOD FOR HER. I nursed my baby exactly once before they took her 5 floors below me to the NICU and started sticking IVs into her head and starving her.

I always wanted to nurse (plus I was hopped-up on drugs), so I strapped on the double-turbo hospital pump and went to town. My milk came in. Sweet. Bags of milk collected in the freezer of the NICU over the next few days. I was waiting for the go ahead from the doctors to feed my baby and we would be off!

Funny thing - the doctors released her to eat one night while I was at home sleeping. And the nurses fed her a bottle. A couple of them, actually. In the 7 hours I was away from the hospital Madigan ate 2 times. From a bottle.

I had no idea what that was to mean in my life. Honestly, when I heard the news I was fine with it. My poor baby had been starved by those mean doctors and I was just so grateful that she'd eaten and that she was keeping it down. And then I tried to feed her myself. Holy shit.

Imagine this, you have an ice cold bottle of Coca Cola on a very hot day. You tilt your head back and lift that thing up and the soda slides right down. It is so delicious and satisfying. The perfect beverage for that moment. Now imagine that your mother walks up to you with that same soda goodness (maybe even better, like Cherry Coke!) but she is serving it to you in a beach ball. Seriously, a beach ball. You have to open your mouth super wide and squeeze it out of one tiny, stupid hole and it's running all over your face and you can't seem to get a mouth full. That would suck, huh? Cherry Coke would maybe not be your favorite, right?

This was my daughter's experience with breast milk from my breast. The nurses had brought her this perfect, fast and convenient milk delivery system. She sucked that shit right down. I, on the other hand, came at her with two "E" cup sized rock-hard torpedoes. And she was pissed. Not having it, I tell you. And I was so guilt ridden about my hospitalized, starving, HUGE baby that I caved. I gave in and gave her the bottle.

The next few weeks were a blur of feeding nightmares. Of me sticking Maddy on my breast for as long as I could tolerate the writhing and screaming, and then caving in and giving her the bottle, followed by me pumping all of that milk out for the next feeding, and then changing my clothes (which were now sopping wet from all the milk that sprayed out of my chest during the festivities). Midnight feedings took two hours for these reasons. I wanted to be a good mom, but this feeding bullshit, nipple-confusion thing wasn't helping. But when it came down to it I really wanted to nurse, so I wasn't giving up. Or I was fucking mental. One of those.

Madigan eventually latched on and I had a very successful nursing career with both kids. And I really must interject that at no time did I plan on nursing for two years. I just kept hitting the regular weaning milestones (3, 6, 9 months, etc...) and asking myself, "Am I done? I don't think so."

When it was all said and done I weaned my kids when they could talk. When they both had mouths full of teeth and could eat corn on the cob and steak dinners. When they could (at least partially) dress themselves and go for walks and were whole people. I am not saying it is the right thing for all families. I am saying it was the right thing for mine.

And I'm so glad I was able to figure that out for myself.

DELICIOUS SUNDAY, FILLED WITH GOOEY HOPE AND PROMISE

Boy child started little league. For the first time. We are quite proud.

Girl child continues in her dance career and has recently started Girls on the Run for the third year.

And double report card awesomeness for this most recent trimester. Sweet.

Husband just got a new big manly truck. He's proud as a peacock.

When all is good with my peeps I find that I have more room in my life for things to be good for me. I have yet to manage the "I'm OK even if my family is is in turmoil" zen-masterness thing.

So, that being said, I had the most wonderful day today. I'm still in my jammies, I read and did crossword puzzles and planned for my future and cooked.

I will say that there is change in the air for my life. And that has brought with it some anxiety. But today, this precious day, has been lovely. And in the midst of imagining parts of my life differently, I found I could be peaceful.

And thankful.

TRASHY 80S MOVIES THAT MAKE ME SMILE

Valley Girl - Julie, a girl from the valley, meets Randy, a punk from the city. This is when Nicholas Cage was a huge-nosed, young and lanky, sexy outsider worthy of my young lust. Long before the "Peggy Sue" nasally voice debacle and the flabby middle aged guy who named his kid Superman. Freak.

This movie also introduced me to magic of Deborah Foreman. Pure 80s B movie queen. Heaven.

A few of Deborah's other movies are:
Real Genius - With young and sexy Val Kilmer. Yum.
My Chauffeur - Rich girl takes a job as a chauffeur. Hilarity ensues. Seriously fucking funny.
April Fool's Day - Deborah plays murderous twins. On a remote island. With all of her sex hungry college friends. Sweet.

On another AWESOME 80s note - Suzanna Hoffs (yes, from the Bangles) stars in The Allnighter. With Michelle Pfeiffer's little sister and Joan Cusack. Drunken adventures with sexy stupid guys.

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension - This might be the very best one of all. Not so much with the sex. Buckaroo is a neurosurgeon, a rock star and an inter-dimensional crime fighter. Peter Weller sexy as hell, Ellen Barkin back when she was hot, with aliens and Rastafarians.

Cue popcorn. Milk duds. Big ass coke.

Mmmmmmm.

CAN YOU SPARE A RAINBOW SPRINKLE?

What to do?

I have lots to say on so many taboo subjects. Religion, faith, the lack thereof, politics, candidates, the lack thereof, drugs and parenthood, all sorts of sexual deviance - you know, fun stuff.

But really, why? I'm no expert. I can't claim to offer anything more than a regurgitated tidbit on any of these subjects. I should just shut my pie hole.

And so this is where I am. Full of nonsense. Not saying anything that is really going on because I am not ready. Because it is somehow not safe. Because.

Bottom line - I would really enjoy a donut or 6 right about now. Sadly, I have none.

MY KIND OF CONVERSATION HEARTS

You can learn how to make these yourself, as well as many other lovely Valentine treats over at Brownie Points.

You're welcome.

THANKING MY LUCKY STARS

For my husband. Who loves me. Every day. Every way. Every weight. Every flavor of crazy. And even if he doesn't, he never says it out loud.

For never, ever, having to scratch or beg or yearn for the approval of my parents. I know people who have spent decades in therapy who will probably never feel like they have it. And here I am, swimming in a big pool of love and approval. More like a lake. An ocean, really.

For my brother. Who could easily make me blow milk out of my nose from laughing. That is if I were a milk drinker. Which I am most certainly not. But you get my point. He's the one I'd like to have with me if I got trapped in an elevator for 6 hours. And that, my friends, is not something I would want from almost anyone else on the planet. Certainly not anyone already mentioned in this post.

For my friends. Who are supporting and encouraging me through such a strange and hard time right now. Who say things so sweet that I don't even know how to believe what they are saying. But I try, because I love them so.

For my neighbors. Who are wonderfully wonderful. And who dork out on the wonderfullness of having great neighbors just as much as I do.

And finally, for my kids. I have no words for all the breathtaking gratitude I feel for them.

On this day, the eve of Valentines Day, I give you my heart. For I have no greater gift to give.

SO FRESH, SO CURRENT

Did everyone watch the Superbowl Half Time Show?

Or did you, maybe, take a nap?

OR, did you accomplish both thanks to the snooze fest that was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' lackluster performance on the heart shaped stage?

What the hell happened? Who booked that show? Couldn't they come up with anyone who had a hit in THIS MILLINIUM? Is it possible that Def Leppard was booked elsewhere? Was Jefferson Airplane already committed to a big performance in Branson, Missouri? Are ZZ Top too busy fighting amongst themselves to make it to the BIGGEST SINGLE AUDIENCE FOR A MUSICAL PERFORMER ALL YEAR?

Please tell me this is not what the future holds.

I'm sure Tom Petty is fine. A lovely musician with lots of fans. All over the age of 55. And all still rocking it hard in their own "Baby Boomers Gone Wild" way. Sheesh.

I'M NOT A FAN

Today is the Superbowl. For me this is a day for laundry and catching up on my reading and a big wonderful breakfast (bacony-cheezy waffles, sauteed apples and fresh eggs from our neighbor's chickens). I really could not care less about the football.

But my husband (24 year football coach and former player himself) is a fan of the sport. So we will watch.

And by "we" I mean "not me."

This year the kids are old enough to pay attention plus I like all the pools and betting that can go on around the game so I requested that Rube put together a big list of bets for us to make (coin toss, first team to score each quarter, last team to score each quarter, score at the end of each quarter, etc...). Rather than betting our own money there will be poker chip payouts for each win and at the end both kids will get a prize, no matter what. Fun! That's the kind of crap I can get on board with! Woo-hoo!

Since we are dedicating our day to the big game I thought I'd do a kid interview. Nothing too hard, I just want to see where they fall along the spectrum from SUPERFAN to non-fan.

Superbowl Interview

Who is playing?
Madigan - Giants and the Patriots.
Levi - Um, Giants and Picksberg? Was I right? Oh, Patriots.

Who are you hoping will win?
Madigan - Giants. Why? Because... um... didn't the Patriots win last year?
Levi - Um, I'll go Giants.

What are you looking most forward to today?
Madigan - The games (pools and betting) and seeing if I'll win any prizes. (that's my girl)
Levi - Having friends over. (no friends) Family over? (no one is coming) OK, having a day just to us. (looking bummed while saying the right thing)

Risotto or Chicken Mirabella tonight?
Madigan - That's part of the interview? Why? Chicken Mirabella. Whatever.
Levi - What's risotto and what's Chicken Mirabella? (explanation) I'll have the thing before Chicken Mirabella. Yeah, risotto.

Anything else you'd like to say?
Madigan - No.
Levi - Nothing. OK is that it? 'Cause I really want to go back to Zoom.

Turns out they are a bit like me after all. Hmm.

WATCHA WATCHIN?

Are you watching 30 Rock?

I wasn't.

I've got enough shows. Great shows. Too many great show. Shows like Grey's Anatomy, Ugly Betty, Life, Heroes, Dexter, and the list goes on (thank you, Tivo). Who has time for a new show?

Not me. No way. I would have to cut out sleeping and parenting all together.

Actually, the real reason I didn't watch 30 Rock is because I liked the other show about the Saturday Night Live-esque variety show by the amazing writer of the political show that makes me want to be a better American. And I wanted to be loyal and show my support for the totally superior show. Which was a great choice.

So that show is cancelled now.

And then the writers strike happened. And all of my shows stopped. ALL of them. Every single one.

So, I've been trying on some new shows. And I've found a couple of keepers.

The L Word is wonderful and edgy and dramatic and I have a full fledged crush on this lesbian right here.

But the FIND OF THE MILLENNIUM (I exaggerate - it is probably just the FIND OF THE CENTURY) is 30 Rock.

I can't say enough about how wonderful Tina Fey is. And Alec Baldwin (whom I don't even like so I could not possibly have had lower expectations) is quirky and funny and kind and totally worth watching. The entire cast is so likable and sweet.

The topper - Netflix now offers all of their customers unlimited "watch instantly" time at their site. So if you are a customer you can log in and watch the entire first season back to back. And laugh until you cry. And blow snot out of your nose describing the funny to your significant other.

Seriously, don't miss it.

BUSY TAKING CARE OF ME

Which can look a lot like avoidance.

I'm going to chalk it up to the post holiday let down.

Right now I am watching the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie. It is a complete sob fest. Even the commercials. Good god. Those people know how to wring out a tear.

I'm getting back into the swing of things.

EVERYDAY IS A HOLIDAY WITH YOU

Happy day off.

I am watching snow fall. Right this minute on my little mountain it is snowing. And snow is always so exciting for us. Exciting and cold. And slippery. Often without electricity and water. But very exciting overall. Yea!

Fires are raging. My family is with me. I am happy.

Here are a few links to some healthy recipe sites. I have been eating poorly this week. Time to get inspired again and since I found these I'll share them with you.

delicious living mag
healthycooking.suite101
epicurious
healthy eating made easy
a weight lifted

Enjoy!

NEED A GOOD SOB? HERE! TRY THIS!

TOMORROW WILL BE HARD PRESSED TO IMPROVE ON THIS DAY

Madigan started dance classes this week. She has been dancing forever, literally since she was two. This year Maddy is starting late (January instead of September) because she had a play earlier in the year with a relentless practice schedule. No room for dance on the family calendar.

So, tonight was her first time at the ballet class she'd picked out. Good size. Good age range. New teacher. She went in at 6:15 feeling good. I told her I would return in an hour.

I went to look at furniture at a nearby store. Just killed some time. Made my way back to the studio. Sat myself down in the waiting room to start watching her class on the CC television.

Oh no. I could tell the instant I laid eyes on her. Maybe it was the way her shoulders were scrunched up so high; maybe it was her eyes as big as saucers; maybe it was just that way a mother knows when her child is not OK. I'm not sure what tipped me off but I KNEW that she was freaking out. On the verge of losing her shit.

At 7:15 on the dot she ran from the room. Ran. She bolted. None of the other girls did. I asked her when she got to the lobby, "Is the class over?"

"I don't know. I'm never going back there. Let's go!"

I started in with the "Wait a minute. What's going on? What happened?" but she would not talk until I got her to the car. And then she was crying over her talking and so I had to take it to the next level. I called in backup.

Over New York Cheesecake (for her) and low fat, no sugar added Berries n Bananas (for me) we discussed the situation. She HATED the class. New teacher Nickoli (Russian trained ballet dancer himself) was not, as it turned out, mean. He corrected her endlessly because SHE COULDN'T DO what he was asking her to do. The stretches and poses he asked her to hold were so hard they were painful in the extreme. No matter what, even with extra help, even with lots of time to come up to speed, she didn't want to be in this class anymore. End of discussion.

And I told her it was OK. And it was.

Until we got home. To my husband, her father, the 24 year football coach, that guy. Remember him?

Good times.

Needless to say, there were more tears. Needless to say, I was frustrated. To be fair, so was he. I've always taken a different view of sports and extra curriculars (or as I like to call them, "hobbies") than his. We do not see eye to eye. He believes, deeply, in the power of the team dynamic. How "rising to the occasion" by "pushing past the pain" can be so "character building."

That may be true, however I don't think any of those things applied to this situation.

I'm going to have to interject here that being a quitter was not OK in my home as a child. If I signed up for something I was expected to complete the season, year, session or whatever. I also have to interject that this knowledge made me not want to sign up for stuff. Cause I would rather sit on my ass and watch TV than try something new if it turned out that I hated it and had to suffer through endless weeks of torture.

So, what ended up happening was Maddy and her father talked. I broke it up for a bit so she could shower, during which time I tried to manipulate Ruben into thinking like me, failed miserably and finally gave up. When I was tucking Maddy in I asked her what she thought about her talk with her dad.

"It was OK." she said. "I know Daddy really wants me to take the class. But I told Daddy that even though I know that this class might be good for me, I really don't think it is the best for me. And he said that was OK."

I told her I was so proud of her for standing up for herself.

And now I know that this day was a pretty good day after all.

I SMELL THEREFORE I AM

No electricity. For over 72 hours. Water coming from 2.5 gallon jugs.

Good times, let me tell you.

Today we miraculously have electricity, hot water, internet and all is right with the world.

Jealous? I thought you would be...

BIG STORMS MEAN THE KIDS ARE ON EDGE, INVENTING WORDS

We are having huge storms on and around my little mountain right now. The winds are getting up to 90 mph. Electricity is out (except when the generator is running, which will not be for long) and very loud winds are whipping through the cracks in the house and knocking over patio furniture.

At one point a big piece of furniture fell over with a very loud CLANG on the deck and shook the house quite a bit. We all stopped to look for the tree that we imagined had fallen through the roof.

Once we realized we were all safe, Levi said "That FROKE us OUT!"

Well said, my son.

NEVER GIVE IN. NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER.

I am morally opposed to New Year's resolutions.

I hate the idea of them. I hate the pressure to become a better person or strive for excellence at exactly the same time that I know I will be writing the date incorrectly for the next 3 months. What's the point? Who needs it?

Also, arbitrary dates dictating change are never effective in my life. Change comes when I am ready for change. And that is rarely when I am totally exhausted and recovering from the end of the year madness known as the holidays.

So, it's the new year. 2008 is a couple days old. So far, so good. I will not, intentionally, be doing anything different today than I did last week just because the calendar has switched over. If I do something new it will be because I spontaneously want to do something new.

Here is a short list of the things that I will continue to do well into 2008 and probably beyond, proudly or otherwise:

1. I will continue to cuss like a truck driver or a sailor or whatever stereotype known for cussing a lot. I love it. I don't make it a practice to cuss in front of my kids, however my kids know that these choice words (these wonderful words - some of my favorites really) that they may hear from time to time are NOT FOR THEM. My kids don't get to use those words. It is not their option or their choice. Shucks, darn and gosh are the expletives that they get to choose from. Have at it. More power to ya. I'll be using mine. And loving them.

2. I will continue to wear high heels. I have several pairs of pants that will be rendered unwearable if they aren't worn with heels. I know my back and feet will pay the price. Now is not the time to cut my wardrobe in half.

3. I will continue to talk to my doggies like they are mildly retarded infants. I find it impossible to use an adult voice when I am alone with them. I make up words and phrases that would be considered embarrassing in nearly every other instance in my life. Phrases like "Duh da ma Cal!" and "Ooda mooda shmooda shmoo."

4. I will continue to let my children come into my bed in the middle of the night. I decided a LONG time ago that my kids sometimes need their parents outside of the "regular parenting hours" and I am OK with that, especially as a mom who has worked outside of the home. It has, of course, led to the infamous "What are you doing?" exchange with Levi as he stood next to our bed while Ruben and I were, ahem, visiting with one another. And the extremely embarrassing explanation that I made, "This is how Mommy and Daddy love one another sometimes." Oh, lordy. Rube loved that one. We should probably move on...

5. I will continue to eat delicious and totally unhealthy foods. For the past few months I have been limiting the frequency and amount, but the deal is that I will always know the "points value" of a chocolate doughnut. And when I want one I will have one. Or two. Or someone will die. It's really that simple.

6. I will continue to hang out with my girls. Poker, Catch Phrase, lunches, movies. All of it. I have read about intimate relationships where one partner isolates the other one until they have no friends or confidants and no one with whom to seek counsel. It is actually a big indicator of domestic violence. Well my friends, worry not! No DV here. Ruben doesn't want me sitting around obsessing about him. He likes me better when I have a life outside of our immediate family. And more importantly so do I.

7. I will continue to think my family of origin are the best in the whole entire world. I know that many other families are lovely families with wonderful ways of celebrating and communicating and loving one another. I just believe mine is the best. So there you have it.

8. I will continue to smoke. I actually want to quit again soon but as I am focusing on a couple of other healthy behaviors right now that take prominence I am buying myself a little more time.

9. I will continue to blog. I thought about quitting, but as you can well see I'm not a very good quitter.

10. I will continue to brag shamelessly about my amazing and wonderful children. In fact, I'll talk up my whole fantastic family. Deal with it.

And I will never, ever purposely quit anything on January 1.

Unless I change my mind.

COULDN'T BE HAPPIER OR TIRED-ER

Last couple of weeks looked like this:

Holiday prep, work, getting sicker than I've been in years, secret vacation planning, hosting Christmas dinner for 15, travel, amazing (no longer secret) vacation to Disneyland, driving home, fabulous New Year's Eve party with peeps in the old hood.

Now I have one day to rest up, do all the laundry and get back on the healthy wagon before I head back to work. Which will be easier with the yoga gift certificate I got from my husband for Christmas. Yeah me.

I wish you prosperity and success and growth in this brand new fresh year.