And then some other stuff happened.

Many things have happened since last I wrote here.


Some highlights, or, uh, stuff that constitutes life that I'm actually willing to share in so public a forum:

I'm working more hours. Essentially, I'm still a full time mother and homemaker and girl Friday (Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday too), and then I earn a living as a three quarter time worker.

The boy has more childcare / school hours.

I've mourned and moved on from the dream of homeschooling.

There is still no small resentment about not having another child, though, I admit it hasn't been and isn't wise for responsible reasons. And still. I wonder if that hole in my heart will ever close, really.

I have seen my nurse practitioner several times.

I continue to purge possessions.

There have been several weeks of beautiful weather after heaps of rain, which have now turned again to heaps of rain. And early darkness. But there were a lot of good hikes and out of doors outings during those beautiful weeks of crisp air and fall color.

There was Fall soccer, which was grand fun.

And then Ziggy started karate and got a tick in his scalp. Unrelated events, save for the timing of my having only partially pulled out the tick one evening (the legs had a really good grasp) and then karate was right after at which point one of my midwife friends with a son who also takes karate took a look at Zig's head.

He, Ziggy, turned four. I threw him a kick ass low-key community center pirate picnic party with our amazing friends present. He is in the ninety-seventh percentile for height, and the ninety-fifth for weight. He is a baby viking king; delicious and precocious and challenging and really good company a lot of the time. Especially when he is not threatening that Jesus will kill me, or to call the police on me, or move in with Melanee instead of me because I won't buy him a shirt from Target on a particular day.

Things eaten that were enjoyed -- chowder, turkey sandwiches, granola, tetrazzini. Oatmeal most mornings. Sweet potato and black bean enchiladas with greens. A couple lunches out at Indian food.

I rearranged the entire bedroom, and also moved the living room around, breaking, in the process, two very large bookcases, the contents of which propelled forward, avalanche style.

There was a week or so when I just couldn't stop crying. It was a really bad week.

My family and friends rallied round during a rough go and held my hands both literally and figuratively, and stepped up to help care for my boy when I needed to work.

Things often found in my bed -- a sprawling long haired four year old boy, a sock monkey, cough drop wrappers, a "wooby" cat, a bald eagle called Tatters, a small stuffed dog called Bingo, a very large stuffed dog called Baron, a copy of whatever I'm reading (Frank Bruni's book or some self helpy thing or essays on mothering and politicism.)

Things sometimes found in my bed -- stray socks, bits of crunchy leaves or crumbs from midnight snacks, a snoring man.

Some sicknesses. Some with vomit, some with snot.

Halloween, and Thanksgiving. And the beginning of Advent.

My husband's grandmother got ill, and then passed away. Our son understands about the spirit leaving the body, but the information about the body itself and what happens next has brought on much questioning and conversation.



Oh, and today? this man asked me if I was Ziggy's grandmother. I smiled and said, "No, I'm his mother." And I swear to you, he looked at me as if he was thinking, "Sure, lady. Fat chance. Whatever you say, you lying liar of a grandmother."