This was written on July 9th but never published.

Let me preface this by saying that Little F is still sleeping in the same room as Big E and me.  Alright, alright, truth be told he’s still in our bed.  Actually beds, plural, since we have two mattresses pushed together so we all have room to spread out.  But let me also say that Little F is still nursing at night.  Which is why he’s still sleeping in our room, which is why he’s still nursing at night, which is why he’s still sleeping in our room, so on and so forth.

A few weeks ago I dreamed I was in a store and there was an annoying lady who kept coming up to me and tweaking my nipple.  I politely asked her to stop but she kept doing it.  Finally I’d had enough and I told her if she did it again I was going to hit her.  Well, she did it again and true to my word I hit her!  I woke up to find out that I had swatted Little F in my sleep.  He had woken up, crawled over to me, and had started to nurse without me consciously knowing.  He didn’t seem to mind the swat and actually kept nursing, even as I was apologizing to him.

But turn-about is fair play…  Less than a week after my dreaming incident Little F had his own.  I had just come in to bed and he woke up to nurse.  We were carrying on as usual when all of a sudden he bit me.  Ouch!  He hadn’t bitten me while nursing since he was a baby, around four or five months old.

Me as I unlatched him: “You aren’t supposed to bite Mama.  That’s not nice.”
Little F mumbling sleepily with his eyes closed: “…cake…”
Me: “You’re not supposed to bite me.  Wait, what are you saying?”
Little F: “I want more cake,” and he went right back to nursing.

Evidently in his dreams my milk tastes like cake.  No wonder he still wants to nurse in the middle of the night.  I’d love to wake up at 5am for a bite of cake too.

Back From…

Hm.  I was going to say “abyss” but that sounded too serious.  Then “vacation” came to mind, except the only vacation I went on this summer was for my annual girls’ trip over a month ago.  “Edge” also popped into my mind but that conjured up “Women on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown” or “Postcards from the Edge” and again, it sounded a little too serious.

I’ve missed having a place to put my thoughts into words, I’ve missed keeping a running diary of Little F’s days.

I did write some posts that were never published during my hiatus (Yes!  That’s the word I was looking for!) and I think I’ll start publishing some of those as I find my blog-legs again.

Saturday is the autumnal equinox.  Change is in the air and in my life, but good changes.  I went to my first Pilates class (ever) today, which was also only the second workout-type class I’ve gone to since Little F was born, almost two-and-a-half years ago.  The last time I actually was practicing Bikram yoga was in 2009.  I made it to one Bikram class on my birthday in 2011.  And now a Pilates class today.  Assuming I make it to class again next Tuesday I’ll have maxed out my class quota through 2015!  Cheers to being an overachiever!

Five Course Dinner

Little F’s dinner was served sporadically tonight.  Or as I like to think of it, in courses.  First came the soup course, or in this case the cereal course: a snack pack of organic Golden Graham knock-offs served in the car on the way home from daycare.  Next came chips and salsa as the appetizer, which he munched while dinner was cooking.  (“It’s ‘picy!  I love it!”)  The third course was the fruit (not-quite-salad), of course.  Little F ate a couple of slices of grapefruit and then two little locally grown yellow plums.  (“I want that,” he said pointing at the plums.)  After the fruit came the main course: pasta with homemade pesto mixed with a little Alfredo sauce and sprinkled with Parmesan cheese to temper it for a toddler’s taste buds.  (“Yummy pasta!”)  Finally, for dessert he had onions.  Little F picked out all of the onions from my wilted beet greens and ate them off my plate.  With my fork.  (“I want tomatoes.”  “Those are onions, not tomatoes.” “I want onions.  Onions are good.”)  Who doesn’t appreciate a five course meal on a Thursday night?

Road Rage

Ugh.  Every street that I drive from work to daycare was under construction today.  Major highways down to one lane, major surface streets closed all together, side streets detoured, a traffic accident at a major intersection.  By the time I got to Little F’s daycare center I was frazzled.

All of that melted away when I walked up the stairs to the door and saw a little boy, around 4 or 5 years old, running around wearing a pair of glasses with the fake nose and eyebrows attached to it, holding a paper cone filled with flowers.  Little kids have an awesome way of bringing you back to what really matters.

(They also have an awesome way of raising your blood pressure to explosive levels and driving you cray-cray, but I wanted to end this post on a positive note.  Oops.  I almost made it.)

Words of the Day

Overwhelmed: with the amount of stuff to do around the house, at work, in general

Tired: Too many nights of staying up past my bedtime to try to finish onemorething are catching up with me

Stress: What I feel when I look around every horizontal surface in this house and see clutter

As you can see, the calm feelings camping gave me have given way to the harsh realities of life.  Or at least life by comparison.  Like I told Big E when I was making dinner at 8:30 this evening: If I just try harder I can make things perfect, I know I can.  I have to get rid of that mindset.  Anyone care to tell me how?

Five Years

Today is Big E’s and my fifth anniversary! To celebrate we decided to go camping. In a tent. With the kid. And the dog. Not your idea of an anniversary celebration? Well, it’s a good thing we’re not married then! Here’s a shot of Big E and me on our wedding day, five years ago. Love you, babe!

You may now kiss the husband!

Life, the Universe, and Everything

I found my way to this post listing the forty-two best lines from Douglas Adam’s, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy this morning and thought it was pretty awesome.

Big E and I are both fans of Douglas Adams and I actually threw him a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy themed party this past March for his forty-second birthday.  Forty-two isn’t normally a milestone year, but Little F was due the day before Big E’s fortieth birthday.  Needless to say there was no big celebration that year.  The next year I was planning a retirement party for a co-worker and Little F’s first birthday party, so once again Big E got pushed to the side.  But once I realized exactly which birthday he was having this year I decided there was no better time for a big party than the year Big E became the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

I’m not the best party-thrower, but I think everyone had a good time.  The theme wasn’t the easiest to work with either, but I did the best I could:

Babel Fish

Little F eyeing the mice cakes

And the best part, which I don’t have any pictures of, I made a cake shaped like the Earth which we blew up at exactly 11:46.  I was hoping for a Gallagher-esque spray of cake and icing, but what we got was pretty good too.  A word of advice to anyone looking to blow up a cake with fire crackers: Don’t waste your time with anything smaller than an M-80, go for the gusto.

An Alaskan Kind of Day



Some days no matter where I am or what I’m doing I get transported back to my former life in Alaska.  Today was one of those days.  The weather here felt like Alaska summer: going from cloudy and cool one moment with sudden breaks for sun and warmth.  If I closed my eyes I could almost smell the ocean on the breeze.  This picture very well could have been taken at 2am in Fairbanks or midnight in Juneau, except it was taken at 8:30pm from my backyard smack dab in the middle of the city, smack dab in the middle of the country.

I doubt I’ll ever be back up there permanently but there is a large portion of my being that is still connected to the land, to the lifestyle, and to the people I knew up there.  Life during those years wasn’t perfect (when is it ever?), and I know I’ve romanticized some of it with the passage of time… but oh, how I miss those days.


I woke up to a thunderstorm this morning.  There’s nothing I like better than lying in bed listening to the sound of thunder and rain on the roof over my head.  (Unless maybe it’s the sound of rain on the tent overhead.)  I love thunderstorms; it’s as simple as that.  One of the things I missed most when living in Alaska or Portland, Oregon or Rock Springs, Wyoming, or wherever I was that wasn’t here was the lack of a good-old Midwestern thunderstorm.  The kind of storm that causes the house to shake from thunder, with lightning that flashes like a strobe light, with rain that comes down so hard and fast it feels like someone poured a five gallon bucket of water over your head when you step into the storm, soaking you to the core in an instant.  Nature is awe-inspiring.

All that to say that I was late to work this morning.  Little F slept in late, and Big E and I casually talked over our morning coffee when all of a sudden I was late for work!  The work day for the majority of the staff in my building begins at 8am and that’s what time I got here this morning.  (I’m usually in at 7:30.)  I was walking into the building and saw person after person mindlessly shuffling to the elevators, stepping on board, and getting whisked up to their offices.  It was soul-crushing.  I felt like a character in a cross between Brazil, Metropolis (Fritz Lang’s version), and 1984.  Fun way to start the work day, huh?

This has been building for quite some time now, (feeling like a character in a depressing, dystopian movie, not the thunderstorm) and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.

Wait.  That’s not right.  I have small ideas for things I want to do.  No, I take that back.  I have big ideas for what I want to do.  I just need to find a way to put those ideas into action.  And I need to think about what is best for my family, not just me.  I’m taking baby steps in the direction I want to go; selling the single-girl house definitely helps with that.  I just get impatient and want end results NOW forgetting that most of the time the journey is the exciting part.

For the first seven or so years out of college my “career” consisted of me doing whatever I wanted to do, going wherever I wanted to go, and staying there for as long as it was fun.  I wouldn’t change any of those years but I will say that living a lifestyle like that doesn’t set you up to enter the “real world” very easily.  So when I moved back to my hometown and bought my house I did so thinking that I would live there for a couple of years and then move on to my next Great Adventure.  Little did I know that I kind of enjoyed being around friends I’d known since high school and in some cases elementary school.  Little did I know that I would meet Big E and that we’d get married and become parents.  Little did I know that it’s nice to have extended family close by when your kids are young.

But I’ve always had this Dr. Jekyll/ Mr. Hyde thing going on.  Adventure vs. Stability.  Seeing the world vs. Roth IRA contributions.  Vagabond lifestyle vs. Health insurance.  It’s enough to drive a person batty, weighing those decisions.  Well, this person at least.  So for the past eight years I’ve been suppressing my urge to flee, ignoring my increasingly restless and itchy feet.  I’ve been stationary and for the most part happy.  But these past few months… these past few months have been difficult for me.  I’ve been feeling stifled and stuck.  Not in my marriage or in my family life, just stuck in my job and trying to decide if I can be a responsible adult and still follow my need to be… untethered.

There’s more to come on this topic, I’m sure.

Hi-diddly-dee, it’s the dirt bag life for me…

On a lighter note, what’s a blog post without a picture?  Here’s a throwback to our honeymoon when Big E and I went backpacking in the Tetons.This sums up some of the things I miss: hanging out in the mountains, getting dirty, being in nature.  Although I don’t miss the black flies which plagued us at lower elevations during the first part of our hike.