Rachel to Hannah while playing with the manger set:

“Hannah, they didn’t have Christmas yet (talking about the manger statues), because Jesus is the one that started Christmas. And his last name was Christ, which looks like it sounds like Kriss, which is why they call it Christmas.”

The historian in me wanted to put my two cents in, but I shut up instead.

Inspired by my friend, Amalita I’ve decided to focus my internet energy on something positive for me. Sort of like an internet do-it-myself spa.

I’m going to be over here for a while.

If it’s boring, don’t worry about feeling obligated to follow me there. It’s just something I need to do right now. If anybody wants to join me, that would be fun, too.

I hope all is well with you and your loves.

I’m feeling self-indulgently hopeful. Something is in the air here. Do you feel it, too?

I know I should be thinking about Barack’s transition team, but honestly? The thing that has been foremost in my mind is Michelle’s red dress.

You wouldn’t know this from the artwork on this blog, but classically modern art is my fave. Despite the flak she got from her election night dress, I’m digging the classically modern designers she’s been using.

She’s probably a few inches taller than me, but generally Michelle Obama’s figure is similar to mine - small, high waist and full hips.

That red dress looks fabulous on her.

This is going to be fun.

I didn’t realize how dreary that last post was until I read all of your comments.

But then I guess if I had taken the time to re-read what I wrote I would have gotten clued in at that first sentence: “Oooooh, I am so exhausted.”

A week before that post I was actually writing funny posts in my head. In fact, I was cracking myself up. I was on such a funny roll that I noted to myself that I must be getting a decent amount of sleep again. I was even making my kids laugh again. My ego was boosted. I was on such a high I was close to signing up for NaNoWriMo. (Now THAT’s funny.)

And then everyone, including the baby, caught colds. A week later, I had that tight, heavy feeling under my eyes again and I couldn’t remember a single funny thing that I had been planning to write about. Not a thing.

I DID remember that I had been writing a post about coyotes in my head. It was a thoughtful post about the pack of coyotes right up in the hill in the back of my house. There was an entertaining episode in this hypothetical post about Rachel’s nightmare which had me chasing one of the coyotes around our backyard with a big red toy. But it wasn’t a really funny post. It was more of a reflective post on how my angst about my backyard reflects greater anxieties I’m struggling. No, not funny at all. Bleh. I don’t know why I’m talking like that post even exists.

What I did manage to write was that political post, which honestly DID make me feel much better, even though I thought it wouldn’t. And of course, i wrote that last post about my frenzied, “oy”-filled week of Halloween and birthday preparing.

Honestly, though, even though I can’t gather enough sleep to find the funny or even to stop noticing the spit-up splotches on the carpet every time I walk up the stairs, my life is so delightfully full that it frightens me.

To think that I ever could have thought twice about trying for this guy.

He is the easiest, most juicy baby, just oozing with well, um, happy babyness.

And I just spent the day with the most pleasant, newly minted five-year old. She was home from school with a cold, but somehow cheerfully managed to initiate and carry deep conversations with me that I promised to myself I would remember because they were just so perfect, but of course I forgot most of. I know that the morning started out with her suggesting that I homeschool her for the day, and later she carried out a long interview with me that started with the question “How well do you know the world.” An hour later, she was still throwing questions across the room like, “Have you been to Antarctica?” “How about Arizona?” And there were more question that were even better. And I thought, you have been so ready to be five for so long, haven’t you?

And then we walked into Trader Joe’s together, coming in from the parking lot in the rain. I was carrying the baby in one arm and holding Hannah’s hand with my other free hand and I looked down at her wearing her pink kitty rain coat and realized how little she still was.

And then I breathed in the fresh rain air and realized that this was a day that I want to remember even more than the election tomorrow.

As I said before, my life is so full that it frightens me. When my girls were babies maybe I checked to see if they were breathing once or twice. Now I get a sudden impulse to check the crib at least twice a week.

And then there is tomorrow and the vote. That hope is so full that it frightens me, too. Too much happy to imagine. But I want it anyway. I guess I’m a woman that wants it all-all the happy-for me and for my grandkids. Yeah, I’m drinking the cool-aid. Sue me. And while you do that I’ll be checking to see if I’m still breathing….and wondering when I’ll find time to take the carpet cleaner to those stairs. But not tomorrow. I’m taking tomorrow off. Gotta drink some cool-aid. There’s some for you, too, if you want it. Win or lose.

Oooooh, I am exhausted.

A little girl turned five this week and there was much organizing of Pirate decorations and accessories, as well as buying of presents and distributing of invitations (for a party which thankfully was NOT this week) and Halloween costume finalizing and Mommy (my mommy) hosting and chocolate-chip cookie baking for the annual school Halloween festival.

(Deep Breath)

And then there was the menstrual cycling, or at least the appearance of symptoms signaling that my body might be trying to work up to the menstral cycling now that the baby is solidly on solids.

And then there was the hitting of the wall and the asking of my husband to fulfill my volunteer hour at a church Halloween festival that we were too tired to attend. He said yes without batting an eye. Have I mentioned that he is a good man? Yes?

There was also the stealing of the kisses from the baby and the producing of belly laughs from the baby by the five-year old who is now deeply on board with big sisterhood. Do we have the best-natured baby in the whole world? Possibly. (knocking on wood)

Did I mention the mild disappointment from this mother when her five-year old was too self-conscious to wear her pirate hat and eye patch at the Halloween festival and later, the mild sadness when after a discussion with the five-year old this same mother discovered that seeing all the other girly costumes at the festival had made the five-year old a bit embarassed about her love of pirates. (For anyone concerned we have tons of girly costumes for her to wear if she decides to abandon the pirate costume before Halloween).

And then there was the seven year old who was struggling to recover from a sinus thing and her mother who as usual spent much time wondering how to find time alone with this same seven year old who seems to be needing a little extra attention lately.

There is more to say, but obviously I can only talk in run-on sentences, so I will be back later.

Senator McCain, it is hard to believe that you will fulfill your promise to cross party lines and bring this country together when you and your running mate make insinuations that a perfectly good American is connected to terrorism, that he has socialist tendencies, that he and his supporters are not pro-American, when your campaign laughs at and then taints community organizing. You have put fear into the hearts of good Americans.

When you do that, you fan flames that tear this country apart. You deepen the wounds that are already causing us so much pain.

Obama served on the board (organized by a Republican) with Bill Ayers because he believes, like so many others, that we make progress when we are willing to work with all sorts of people for a greater cause, even those who are not like us.

The reason that you are losing in the polls is that you have underestimated the American People. We are smarter than you give us credit for. We are tired of politicians that deliberately put fear into our hearts for political gain. Our desire to come together as a country is deep. We don’t want to be divided anymore.

Obama has understood that from day one. Even when we underestimated him, when the Democrats underestimated him and were calling for “red meat,” when the media underestimated him, he never underestimated us.

That, my friend, is why while you are a great Senator, he is a great leader and will make a great president.

Hannah to Rachel: “Are Triscuits healthy?”

Rachel to Hannah: “How am I supposed to know? Hannah, I’m only seven. It’s not like I’m eighty-nine or anything.”

I’ve been so wanting to write a political post. I’ve started quite a few times, but never quite have the energy to pull it off. And then I wonder, why do it? Will it make me feel better. Probably not. But will I burst if I don’t? No, but it sure feels like it.

I’m a Gemini. You know, the twins, the dual personality. Like a good Gemini, I’ve got a sort of ranting, “Take that, Sarah Palin” type of post floating around in my head. And then I’ve got another more hopeful, more conciliatory post in my head. You know, the one I would write if I were more like Obama. Maybe I’ll write both and post them at the same time and then be done with it. Get it all out there and move on.

Yes, I know half of you are Republicans. I think that’s good for me. I think we should all have times when we know members/friends of the opposite party are listening when we talk politics. I think that would take us a long way.

But no politics right now. I want to talk baby.

Little brother is having a needy day. I think he may be teething, but am not sure. His bottom front teeth pushed through last week. I think the top ones are coming through.

He’s so easy most of the time, sometimes I forget he’s there. Especially when I’ve got the girls. He’s just this beautiful round presence in my life and I get so much pleasure out of making him laugh and just hanging with his mellowness.

He’s starting to hold his arms out, just a little bit, when he wants to be picked up. It’s so sweet. He can put the pacifier in his mouth by himself now, but sometimes he puts it in sideways so it pushes his nose in. So cute.

He’s still not sleeping through the night regularly. I try to keep night feedings down to a minimum and sometimes let him cry it out. There are time, though, when it’s obvious that he is hungry, or teething, or something. I don’t let him go long when he makes it clear.

Today I got nothing of consequence done. The dishes are still in the sink. My project of clearing out my office to give him a full room of his own made to progress. He took a few short naps, but woke up each time with piercing cries. Teething is my guess. He wants to be held often.

So I am a bit sleep deprived from a night of the same sudden piercing cries, and am a bit frustrated that nothing has been accomplished and it’s almost time to pick up his sisters.

But I’m also thinking how absurd it is in a way when we think of babies as these pleasant smile machines that are here on earth to give us cuteness and pleasure. When truly, it is us that are here to keep them happy and cared for. Believe me, I’m no martyr, but it just struck me as absurd that we get frustrated when all they are doing is needing us, like they should be.

It is also absurd that I should WANT to do uninterupted housework when I’ve got this gorgeous, drooly baby, who despite always wanting to bite my chin and pull my hair, heaven on earth to hold.

So really, truly, it is a no brainer. But I have no brain these days.

Can’t proofread now. Baby needs me.

Sometime this year, Rachel discovered there was an “F-word.”

“Fart,” she whispered to me one day, in explanation.

Apparently, she knows the “B-word,” too.

“Mom, you’re great. You’re the b-word.”

“The b-word?” I asked.

“Yeah. You’re the best.”

A few minutes later she complained, “Mom, Hannah says I’m not the b-word.”

I looked her straight in the eye and said slowly. “You are the b-word.”

Her face lit up.

The weekends seem to wreak havoc on our house. We can spend Sunday afternoon trying to whip it back into shape and grumping all over each other. Or we can drive 20 minutes to the water, going from 90 degree weather at our house to a cool 60 degrees by the bay. We can picnic and play on the playground while the sun disappears and the wind blows and our noses chill.

And on the way home, we can stop home for ice-cream with sprinkles so that we arrive home exactly one minute before bedtime.

Two coleman picnic blankets - $24.50*

Picnic food from the nearest supermarket deli - $18.95*

First ride on a swing - Priceless

*******

Here is his oldest sister’s first swing ride (or at least one of the first). Family resemblance, no?

She’s a few months older than her brother is in the picture. We had to prop him up with a blanket in the swing because he’s not sitting up by himself yet.

*I totally made up those prices for dramatic effect.