I believe I am officially not a blogger anymore. While we were sitting in a cabin in Tahoe over Christmas, enjoying the strange sensation of being without internet, my husband made me listen to the NPR story on blogging, and if I remember correctly, according to the commentator, to be a blogger you must update frequently. It doesn’t seem to be in me to do that anymore, for a ton of complicated reasons that would be excruciately boring to read about here. Or perhaps I’m just going through a non-blogging stage. Maybe I am the sort of person who has stages in life where I write, and other stages, where I just live. Or maybe I’m just a big flake. Honestly, I just don’t know.

Still, I feel like stopping by to say hello. We’ve had a memorable couple of months. We (the four of us) took a break from our usual Christmas hosting duties, and trekked up to a cabin near Lake Tahoe for Christmas. I figured it would be our last chance to have some good family time as a family of four. I also wanted the girls to experience snow.

When we arrived there were three feet of snow. We bundled the girls up in their fashionable (not) Walmart snow-suits, which we purchased during our trip to Ohio, and hand-knit (and yet still unfashionable) scarves. We went out behind the house and let Charlie (the dog) prance around and eat the snow while we had fun trudging through three feet of snow. Hannah fell down quite often and often would just lay there, eating the snow. The snow looked clean, so I let her. Rachel explored and tried to make snowballs and I took in the crispness, watching the dog and the four-year old chomp down on snow. I sent Mr. R out for a day of skiing by himself, since I can’t ski or skate or sled or do anything interesting right now, and our girls only were interested in sledding own our hill and eating snow.

Christmas was still and quiet and lovely, just the way I like it. Those dominant German roots in me crave a “Stille” Christmas. Blame it on the Krauts. Ha. I remember working in a sweater shop when we lived in Scotland. The middle-aged and older folks working there always made comments hearkening back to the Wars when talking about Germans. “You’d think they won the war,” someone said once. It struck me as funny, but I suppose I might feel that way too if our country had been bombed by Germans. I have to admit, our year of living in Berlin was not my favorite living abroad experience, though Berlin is quite a city. Befriending Germans is an intense experience, particularly if you are an American, and some of our dearest friends are German. But who am I to talk? I come from an intense German family, especially on my father’s side. I grew up dancing polkas in the living room floor while my Dad played the accordian, and I still remember the look on his face when he occasionally would sing Silent Night in German, like he had disappeared into a world where he was a child again. So on Christmas, there is always something in me that wants a German Christmas that feels still, quiet, holy, without the noise of Santa and a Visa card. Perhaps that was what the trip to Tahoe was all about. Santa was there, but that’s a whole other story.

But enough about Christmas already. Heck, it’s almost time for Super Bowl. Who are we rooting for again? New York? Always the underdog. Sometimes it sucks to always root for the underdog. Like, for instance, John Edwards, who I’ve supported for many years. His campaign seems to be fizzling sadly. But I’m not bitter. And how about that Republican race, all my Republican friends? What an interesting range of candidates. Really. At least it’s not a boring year for politics. Ugly? It’s heading that way I think. I have to admit I like the primary races because to me, they don’t seem as polarizing and divisive as the national races are, which seem to divide the country in two. In the primary races you can see the range of values that we have within each party, and you’re not yet defining yourself against the other party. In other words, we’re not destroying each other yet. When we get into the final stretch the political parties will start defining each other, drawing ugly lines in the sand, painting characitures of the “other” half that will divide us and make us judge each other too harshly. I am looking for a candidate that can unite us and not be afraid to celebrate the values that can bring us together.

But there I go again. Lecturing, spouting off, getting all passionate about an issue. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? I don’t comment for weeks and then i’ll jump in when a controversy arises? I’ll disagree with a post. I’ll email you with my opinion about something? I get overly intense.

Everything is on the surface. I’m preggers, okay? You knew that. I am not quite in balance, but I’m doing the best I can. I’m not a huge fan of pregnancy as you know. I don’t usually write much when I’m pregnant. It’s hard for me to write because when I try I often sound like I’m whining, when I’m really so grateful for this life inside of me, who as of yet has no name. We did not find out the gender, either. Having kept it a surprise the first two times, we’re doing it again. But everything else looks great. Healthy kid, as far as the experts can tell.

There is much more to write about. The kids are great. So great, I’m a little embarassed to write about it, cause it might sound like bragging. They play together for hours and hours and genuinely like each other (I am knocking on wood here) and over Christmas break, one day the were having such joy playing together than when they looked at each other, one of exclaimed “We love each other!” and they starting chanting that phrase and laughing. See, does that make you want to gag? They fight, too, but are generally going through an amazing stage together. But I could reduce your impulse to gag by telling you about my heartburn and my fatique and the fact that yesterday i called my mom and just started weeping. I had just taken a glucose test. And the night before I was up most of the night because my body was having a bad reaction to an iron supplement. And I miss my family and was feeling very sorry for myself, because basically, my body needed to weep and I needed a reason. Just so you know, I had a great second trimester with lots of of energy. But, just as I was making big plans for the final trimester, I started to slow down and now tire easily. I also seem to have twisted my knee mildly. It only hurts when I walk up or down stairs. Or march. But I have little occasion to march. I guess that’s a good thing. But it would be fun to have a reason to march.

Just so you know, I do think of you. I have cried with your posts. I’ve laughed. I’ve admired you. I’ve disagreed with you, too. And I’ve loved you as much as ever.

And then I’ve turned over on my left side, gotten up to pee a couple of hundred times, and fallen asleep. And then probably snored loudly. Often without a word to you at all.

Cause I’m the anti-blogger.

Forgive me.

With love,

me.