Red Pen Mama

You know, today (yesterday by the time this posts) was the longest day of the year!

Believe me, I’m feeling it.

Lifted from the ever-funny Ms. Gina.

Hope I make it to the zoo tomorrow.

1. You have 10 dollars and need to buy snacks at a gas station. What do you get?

If I am forced to buy snacks at a gas station for myself, it’s going to be potato chips, French onion dip, a Milky Way and caffeine-free coke. If my kids are involved, probably a slushy — or the most healthful snacks one can find in a gas station.

2. If you were reincarnated as a sea creature, what would you want to be?

It would be pretty cool to be an octopus. It’d be nice to have extra arms (or legs?) for once — I’m always wishing for at least one more hand quite often these days.

3. Who’s your favorite redhead?
My mom. (And I’ve a lot to pick from in my family alone: two red-headed nephews, five redheaded cousins, their parents (both red heads) and my redheaded sister-in-law.)

4. What do you order when you’re at IHOP?
I have never ventured into an IHOP. I would order a pile of fruit-topped pancakes, though. Sure, leave on the whipped cream. And coffee!

5. Last book you read?
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I’m making my way through all seven books this summer. I took a bit of a hiatus, because four Harry Potter books in a row is a lot of J.K Rowlings to take.

6. Describe your mood.
Anxious. Ready for the weekend.

7. Describe the last time you were injured.
Recently I was standing over Bun when she decided to jump. Her noggin — and all 25 pounds of baby fat behind it — went into the left side of my nose and left eye socket. I discovered what getting punched in the eye would feel like.

8. Of all your friends, who would you want to be stuck in a well with?
N! We could get caught up on everything, talk about books and movies, share some wine (we’d have some wine, right?), and reminsce about our shared past. Which means N would remind me of all the stuff (good and painfully embarrassing) we had been through together.

9. Rock concert or symphony?
Rock.Concert.

10. What is the wallpaper of your cell phone?
A flower (came with the phone). To my credit, I have had pics of my kids on there, but I haven’t used my phone’s camera in awhile.

11. Favorite soda?
A soda has ice cream in it, and I am going with a root beer float. If you mean pop, then caffeine-free Coke.

12. What type of shirt are you wearing?
Bright orange T-shirt from Target. It’s casual Friday.

13. If you could only use one form of transportation?
Helicopter.

14. Most recent movie you have watched in theater?
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

15. Name an actor/actress/singer you have had the hots for.
Naveen Andrews. Holy cow, that guy is just… almost beyond words, how sexy he is. Also, since the question is “have had”: Hugh Jackson. Although, really, Wolverine.

16. What’s your favorite kind of cake?
Chocolate with chocolate icing. This is the type of cake I ordered for Bun’s first birthday, and people hated me. I had no clue it would be such an unpopular choice. I quite enjoyed it, though. Bun had a little of the smash cake (yellow cake).

17. What did you have for dinner last night?
Channa masala (home made) and rice.

18. Look to your left, what do you see?
My kitchen.

19. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
If they are tie shoes, yes. If they are flip-flops, no.

20. Favorite toy as a child?
Lite-Bright!

21. Do you buy your own groceries?
Who the hell else is going to do it?

22. Do you think people talk about you behind your back?
In a mean way? No. I’m actually pretty nice. In a good way? Possibly. About how unbelievably smart I am and/ or how hot I am for a mother over 35 years old? In my dreams.

23. Gummy Worms or Hershey Kisses?
Kisses. Hershey or otherwise!

24. What’s your favorite fruit?
I love spring/summer fruit, berries and melons. But a good, crunchy Gala apple will do the trick, too.

25. Do you have a picture of yourself doing a cartwheel?
No, but my parents probably do.

26. Do you like running long distances?
I used to run, and I did love it. I’m not sure 4 miles qualifies as a long distance though.

27. What is your secret trash food pleasure?
I don’t really like trash food. If junk food is what is meant here: see #1.

28. What color are your bedsheets?
This week: green with little white dots.

29. What’s your favorite flower?
Tulips. Except for yellow ones (I don’t know why).

30. Do you do ballet?
No.

31. Do you listen to classical music?
Does Baby Einstein stuff count? No? Then, no. My musical tastes are not what one would call refined.

32. What is the first TV Theme song that pops in your head?
None really pop in there — I had to think about this one. I barely watch TV. It’s a tie between the song for “Greatest American Hero” and “Dora”.

33. Are you really worried about Global warming?
YES! I like my current job a lot, but I wish it was one to which I could take a bus instead of driving 30 minutes. Still trying to talk DearDR into a possible move, but it doesn’t seem likely. But the gas prices and the knowledge of what I am contributing to in terms of pollution are killin’ me.

34. What temperature is it outside right now?
Mid-70s, maybe?

35. Do people consider you smart?
Yes. And you know what, they’re right!

36. On what occasions do you lie?
I tend to lie by omission. Especially about money and what I might have spent it on. Like a bright orange T-shirt from Target. (It was $6!) Especially to DearDR (if one can said to lie to someone by omission).

37. Are you signed on [to] AIM?
No. I’m not sure what exactly this is — instant messaging of some brand?

38. Have you ever tried gluing your fingers together?
Er, no. Why would I? Why would anyone?

39. How do you feel about your family?
They are the absolutely best thing that has ever happened to me; my kids are by far the best thing I have done/will ever do. Even if I ever manage to write a best-selling book or two.

40. Do you have an iPod?
I have a Shuffle. I have used it exactly once since it was given to me (by a former boss — he gave the whole office one).

41. What time do you go to bed?
Usually around 10:30 p.m. Yeah, I’m a pansy.

42. What CD is currently in your CD player?
Which CD player? In the car, I have a children’s jazz album (i.e. Ella Fitzgerald singing “Old MacDonald”); Pearl Jam Live on Two Legs; two U2 albums, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and All You Can’t Leave Behind; and Hole Celebrity Skin. In the CD player at home, I think it’s Death Cab for Cutie Plans, Wilco Summerteeth, Billy Bragg and Wilco Mermaid Avenue and Old 97s Fight Songs. Aren’t you glad you asked?

43. What movie do you know every line to?
The Princess Bride.

44. What is your favorite salad dressing?
Balsamic Vinaigrette.

45. What do you want for Christmas this year?
World peace. Lower gas prices. My kids to have a great time. And for everyone to remember/acknowledge why it’s called Christmas.

46. What family member/friend lives the farthest from you? Where?
I have distant relatives in Ireland. For true!

47. Do you like hugs?
From my children, husband, (most) other family members, and close friends: very much yes. From people I don’t know so well, no.

48. Last time you had butterflies in your stomach?
Interviewing for my current job — the second face-to-face was especially intense because I wanted the job, but I was afraid I wasn’t going to get paid well. I was so relieved when I read the offer letter.

49. What’s the way people most often mispronounce any part of your name?
My married name is slaughtered regularly.

50. Last person you hugged?
Monkey, before bed last night. My children will be the next people I hug, too, when I pick them up from Day Care Lady’s today. Frankly, I spend most of my huggin’ on my children. It’s only right.

It’s an odd time of the year for me.

It’s the time of the year when I think most about Gabriel. He would be 5 years old this year, tomorrow.

I usually think of Gabriel at least once every day. Often just in passing. It’s especially poignant when I am with my nephews and niece and my children all together. As much love as I have for them all, I feel with a little bit of my heart that there is a child missing.

A child is missing. I am missing a child.

I feel in dwelling on him, as I do around this time of year (starting Mother’s Day, and going through the anniversary of his delivery), that I run the risk of seeming self-indulgent. That I run the risk of seeming ungrateful.

I am extremely blessed in my marriage and my family. I have two wonderful girls who fill my life and my heart, fill it to overflowing. I thank God every day for what he has bestowed on me.

And I still miss my little boy.

Although here’s a confession: I forgot to miss him a little bit recently.

Around Mother’s Day this year, I looked ahead to the anniversary of Gabriel’s delivery.

I noticed it was on a Sunday, so I talked briefly to DearDR about going to go to church as a family, then to the cemetery, then to lunch. He agreed.

But DearDR has his own ritual about Gabriel. He usually marks June 4, as this is the day that Gabriel actually died.

So on Tuesday, when he mentioned he had taken Wednesday off, I was very surprised.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, I didn’t take it totally off,” he said. “I have two late appointments.”

“Oh. Why did you take most of the day off?”

“I have a physical tomorrow, first of all,” he explained. “With a new doctor.

“And I was going to go to the cemetery.”

With a jolt, I realized the date. I also realized that I had “forgotten” to think about Gabriel, to miss him. In kind of a knee-jerk reaction, I felt guilty. Which I almost immediately knew was ridiculous.

I have been wrapped up in the everyday details and stressors of my life — what I recently referred to as “the daily” — full-time/overtime work, a household to run, bills to pay, children for whom to care, ear infections with which to deal. Sometimes I forget what day it is, let alone what date it is.

Second, I have set aside the day I consider to be the day to mark Gabriel’s… passage.

And because of these two things, I actually hadn’t given much thought to my son in recent days. When I realized that, I felt bad. Then I got a hold of myself.

I shouldn’t feel guilty for forgetting to think about Gabriel. He is in my heart every day, if not always in my head.

And I shouldn’t feel self-indugent thinking about him, and continuing to commemorate the day I feel is most appropriate. Grief doesn’t have a deadline. There is no day that I will wake up free from my sorrow at having lost a child. It’s just not going to happen. I will never forget my uncle, who lost a 22-year-old son more than two decades ago, saying after Gabriel’s death, “Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s time to ‘get over it’. You’ll never get over it.” As difficult as that is to hear, it is also a relief.

Someday I will wonder what kind of teenager he would have been had he lived. I will tell his sisters about him — we tell them now; we take them to the grave with us, but I am sure they won’t understand for a few years. And I will continue to write about him. And tomorrow, we will put white flowers on his grave. And let him know: We will never forget.

I have been lovingly creating this post for two or three days. It’s taken me so long to post because I seem to be having some issues with my Mac at home and Safari and WordPress. Some combination keeps kicking me offline. Thank goodness we have a PC at home also.

I never thought I would be this grateful for a PC.

X

Instead of spending last Friday with all the future Mrs. Ginas (i.e. the very bunch of funny and cool other bloggin’ Burgh moms), I attended the X show.

It was at the Rex Theater, on the South Side, my old stomping grounds. Walking into that concert was like going to 1996. Except everyone looked 15 years older (go figure). Oh, and instead of dating The Ex (more on that in a moment), I was with my husband of almost-seven years.

Attending the concert (if I can use so high-falutin’ a word to describe seeing the LA punk band from the 1980s) made me feel young. Primarily this was because everyone else around me was obviously older: a lot of gray-haired or balding punk guys, many of whom I was acquainted with (no, not like that) back in the day. The women, including myself, seem to have aged much better.

Although low lighting, make-up, and hair dye may combine to cover a multitude of sins.

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I wore a white shirt with my dark jeans. I stood out just a little bit in that sea of black. I partly attribute that white shirt to a lot of the looks I got that night.

But, if I may take a step away from the modest, self-effacing persona I affect: I also think I looked damn hot. And not just damn hot for a 37-year-old mother of two girls. I was just looking good. It must have been an excellent night for bloggin’ Burgh moms.

X was amazing. If I closed my eyes, I could have easily believed I was hearing them in their heyday. They were tight, they were loud, they played the hits and then some.

With my eyes open, it was a bit of a different experience.

This was my only time to see this band. Guitarist Billy Zoom… let’s say he has an odd stage presence. He stood at the very, very front of the stage, legs spread as far as 60-year-old hips would allow. Sixty-years old, looks about 45, silver-blond pompador and cold blue eyes — Rutger Hauer with a guitar. He smiled and nodded, and winked, and smiled and nodded — honestly I thought maybe he was stoned on something.

But, crikey, he played the hell out of that guitar.

John Doe looked pretty good for a 60-year-old punk bass player. He had great stage presence, too, talking to the crowd, being relevant and funny. Pretty good for a guy whose debut album dropped in 1980.

D.J. Bonebrake looked very good for a 60-year-old punk drummer. Although very, very bald.

Exene Cervenka looked like the creepy psychic from Poltergeist. DearDR actually leaned over and said, “This house is clean” when she walked onstage. The years have not treated her well.

(This is not Exene. This is the Poltergeist lady. May she rest in peace.)

This woman has a child with Viggo Mortensen, people. I don’t know what she’s hitting these days, but she should stop it from hitting her back.

The Ex

The weirdest, most time-warped part of the evening was after the show, when a number of people with whom I spent the most of my time in 1996 spontaneously assembled in front of the Rex. There they were: The Ex (married the same year I was; wife was home making cupcakes); The Drummer Guy (now divorced with three children); E (still a good acquaintance, married — his wife attended the show, too — with a 7-year-old).

And then we went down the street to the place where I drank more beer and spent more time than almost any other place in the years from 1991 to 2000: Dees Cafe.

And the weirdest part of this weird part was how The Ex was raving about how gorgeous I looked, and how I was getting the … love-sexy vibe from him.

The Ex — if I can call a guy I broke up with 10 years ago that — is a good guy. But, in the words of Douglas Adams, “He’s just this guy, you know?”

Ten years ago — well, to be honest, more like eleven years ago — I thought I loved The Ex. We lived together. There were times during that time I figured we were going to get married. There were times during that time I thought I wanted us to get married.

In retrospect, to be perfectly honest, I cannot adequately express how relieved I am that we did not get married.

The Ex is not a bad guy. He did not beat me; he did not cheat on me; he did not bilk me out of a lot (or any) money. Yeah, he smoked pot (I did too back then) and occasionally — like once a year — did heavier drugs (this very behavior was the thing that lead to our first of two break-ups). He was a fantastic cook.

The thing that lead to our second break-up was me figuring out what I wanted in a partner and finally recognizing that The Ex wasn’t it.

I wanted someone who was interested in me. I wanted someone who was interested in my life, my family, my passions. The Ex liked me, he said he loved me, and he never went out of his way to ever hurt me. But he really wasn’t interested in me, in being my partner.

To give you an example, here’s a conversation we had at one point when we were living together. The Ex was talking about buying a house. How much he wanted to own his own house. The type of house he wanted to buy, and where, and what he would do to it.

Me: So, would I be living in this house with you?
Ex: Well, yeah, if you wanted to.
Me:…. Well, do you want me to?
Ex: I would be happy if you lived in a house with me.
Me: I wouldn’t live in a house that you owned as your girlfriend.
Ex: …

Yeah, that’s kind of how it was. If I wanted to do what he was doing, he was perfectly content. If I wanted him to do something I wanted to do (i.e. attend one of my cousins’ weddings, go to one of my poetry readings) there were problems. Big problems. When I finally wised up and realized that he was not interested in a life together, I dumped him. Literally, almost, as I had to drive him, at 3 a.m., from the hotel at which we were staying (out by the airport) after my brother’s wedding back to his car (on the South Side).

My last words on that night were not very nice. There were two. One started with F. Do the math.

That was ten years ago. I didn’t talk to him for a long time. I had zero interest in being his friend, in seeing him at all really (I could tell that story about walking into the Big Bird on the South Side about a month after our break-up and seeing him in line with a big-boobed girl and what that did to my body, which felt simultaneously feverish-hot and ice-cold, and how I almost walked out, but figured I was going to have to deal with catching sight of him, and went ahead and did my shopping).

But now we see each other in social settings. He and DearDR occasionally play poker together. His wife is very funny (and chesty!), and pretty, and — I get the sense although I don’t know her well — can be sweet. He has a huge “crush” on Monkey, which cracks me up.

But it’s always weird because there comes a time in the night when we are saying good-bye, and he gives me a hug, and murmurs “I love you” in my ear, and I’m like, “Me too” because what the hell else am I supposed to say. Friday was one of those nights. His wife wasn’t around; he was kind of feeling me up with his eyes and going on about how great I looked (and I did look great, did I mention), and how lucky DearDR is (damn skippy) and when he sat down next to me in a booth at Dee’s he muttered something about not throwing me out of bed for eating crackers.

Yeah, so, that was my Friday night last week. The band rocked.

The time warp was weird.

Here is the first installment of 100 Things about Me.

I have number 51 written, too. But I am saving it for installment 2. I do not have #52 yet.

Once I get all 100, I will turn them into a page (i.e. “About”).

Thanks! Have fun.

N, you may leave suggestions in the comments.

1. I grew up in Erie, PA.
2. I moved to Pittsburgh when I was 19 years old, in 1990.
3. I lived on the South Side for 15 years before moving to the suburbs.
4. I stopped eating red meat in 1989.
5. I have been a complete vegetarian since 1991.
6. I am raising my two daughters as vegetarians.
7. Yes, I know they will probably eat meat someday.
8. I still smoke cigarettes — when the weather is good, usually one a night.
9. I have quit several times.
10. Although I found it very easy to quit each time I got pregnant, I used to dream about smoking cigarettes and drinking beer.
11. My parents have been married for 38 years. I was a honeymoon baby. Several family members counted the months between my parents’ wedding, and my birth (it’s more than nine, so my mother’s reputation is sterling).
12. I have two younger siblings, one sister, one brother. She is finishing chiropractic school; he is a dermatologist, married, with three sons.
13. I have four nephews and one niece; I have four god-children (only two of which to whom I am blood-related, my oldest nephew and my niece).
14. I am Catholic, and I love my faith. (I still have problems with the Church, per se, but I do truly love my faith. I don’t think this is contradictory at all.)
15. I have wanted to be a writer since I was in fourth grade. My career success varies, but all things considered, aside from being a mom and wife, I consider myself a writer foremost.
16. I am an Aquarius, and I think this is the best star sign.
17. I dabbled in astrology for awhile, and thus I know my moon is in Aries (which explains why I get on so well with N) and my ascendent is in Gemini.
18. I have known my best friend N for 37 years — give or take two months (she is exactly two months younger than I. And she never lets me forget it.)
19. I have known my best friend M since seventh grade.
20. I also have two other friends, A and H, whom I have known since high school.
21. I am still in touch with all of these friends. I wish I saw them all more often. A and I live in the same city — er, near the same city — and it’s still a minor miracle (or, depending how you look at it, a major feat) when we manage to get together.
22. I’m a published poet, nationally even.
23. It all started in sixth grade, when I won a poetry contest for a poem called “Scary Night”. I was, like, 54 out of 100, or something. The weird thing about this poem: It rhymed.
24. I have been published in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, City Paper, 5A.M., and The Pittsburgh Quarterly. Among others.
25. For a long while, I was “the” erotic poet of the Pittsburgh poetry scene.
26. I even hosted, with a good friend of mine, The Erotic Salon, a series of discussions about sex and the body in art. It was very cool.
27. It’s been a long time since I wrote what I would consider to be a poem. Sigh.
28. I would like to get an MFA in writing, either poetry or creative non-fiction.
29. I have traveled to Italy (Florence, some villages in Abruzzo, and Rome) and France (Paris). Well, and Canada: Toronto a couple of times, Montreal, and Niagara. My next international trip will be to Ireland — yet to be booked.
30. I took piano lessons for something like 12 years. I recently discovered that although technically I can still read music, I don’t remember the left hand very well. At all.
31. The only song I ever managed to memorize to play on piano was “Send in the Clowns”.
32. I am tone deaf.
33. I used to play the flute, too.
34. I played basketball in 8th grade. We went to the state finals that year. I had very little to do with that, believe me.
35. I played soccer for about 8 years. I was on my high school team my freshman year.
36. Then I discovered my school newspaper.
37. I helped launch the literary magazine at my high school. We called it “she says…”
38. Oh, yeah, I went to an all-girl Catholic high school. The school is no longer all girls.
39. I went to Catholic school for nearly 16 years, counting my education at Duquesne.
40. I was managing editor of my high school newspaper my senior year. My friend A was editor in chief — she beat me out! The faculty advisor explained that while I was a better writer, A was a much better people person. (She still is. Hence, I am a writer, she is a psychologist.)
41. I received the Founder’s Award, a merit-based scholarship to Duquesne University.
42. I had really wanted to go to Boston University, and I was accepted into their journalism program. But they were an expensive school in an expensive city, and I didn’t get any money from them.
44. I was editor in chief of The Duquesne Duke, the student newspaper, in my junior year. It was a pretty big deal.
45. I lived on campus the first three years of my college education.
46. Except in the summers, when I lived on the South Side.
47. I didn’t buy my first car until I was 25 years old. It was a black, 2-door Nissan Sentra. I miss that little car.
48. My first two full-time roommates (i.e. not in an apartment I was subletting for the summer, but one I had actually signed a lease for) were men, Joe and Steve. It was a three bedroom apartment. My mother was still scandalized.
49. I lost my virginity when I was 18 years old.
50. I lived with a boyfriend (the one I drove across the country with; see #51) for about nine months. I walked out on him, although the relationship limped along for another few months. We broke up for good at the hotel after my brother’s wedding.

That’s probably a redundant headline. Anyhoo:

• (Knock on wood): The girls are healthy. Bun has returned (for the most part) to her cheery self — aside from the occasional pre-meal tantrums. Monkey has boundless energy. As far as I can tell, their infections have cleared up. I hope a peek in their ears later this week confirms that.

• A year-and-a-half after it expired, I finally have a new driver’s license. Is this something people take care of right away? Because, honestly, if I didn’t need to renew it, I still would be carrying around an expired license with my old address on it.

• I need a new license because I am buying a car, and I need to take out a loan. Banks are so fussy these days about “proper” (i.e. current) ID.

• I am posting just so you know I haven’t gone away. The mandatory overtime is wearing me down, though.

• I am also posting to tell you: I am working on one of those “100 Things About Me” lists. I’m only up to number 21. That’s not even a quarter of the way through. I should get cracking. Because I know how you’re all just dying to know 100 more things about me!

Ahhhh. That sound you heard late Saturday afternoon was my sigh of contentment, up in Cook Forest.

We went. It was good. DearDR and I squabbled a little over child care vs. vacation time, but not enough to bother me.

It was a near-perfect weekend. The kids had a blast. We got to relax (I did anyway; I guess I can’t speak for DearDR). And it was wonderful to see everyone, and see how well everyone was doing.

I’m glad we decided to go after all. Now I have to get back to real life (and crappy weather — where did spring go? — and the Penguins’ playoff games). I’ll always have my memories, right? They’ll have to get me through for a while.

I dropped the daily blogging ball on Sunday. I hadn’t made Sunday’s post a priority, so it’s not surprising to me that it didn’t happen. We stayed over at Bella and Tadone’s house Saturday night on Nanny duty (my in-laws are out of town, and we’re all taking turns hanging out with Nanny). Earthmother and her husband and their two children were there too. It was a good time, in general, although I was severely disappointed in Spider-Man 3. Whew, yawn, what a slow movie. The “blooper reel” is very funny though.

Then Sunday I was supposed to get up and go to 8 a.m. mass. Instead of hitting snooze, I must have turned my alarm off, and didn’t get up until 7:30, with the kids. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity: shopping, making brunch and visiting with friends (at our place), and three near-emergency room visits. Then DearDR and I sniped at each other, and our friend and stylist came over to cut our hair.

I have to admit, I didn’t even think to myself, “I should try to get a post up today.” All the stuff that was happening required full attention.

Our three almost-visits to the emergency room:

Number One: Bun, trying to climb onto the table at Costco, slipped and fell on her head. It scared the crap out of Dan and me, but as she didn’t lose consciousness and I managed to get ice on the bump right away, we decided against going to the hospital. After she calmed down, she was fine: no seizures or twitching; she smiled and was cheerful, and helped me eat a vanilla frozen yogurt berry sundae. More than anything, it was embarrassing — drawing mostly sympathetic glances and a couple well-meaning inquiries.

Interestingly enough, I then came across this post over at Mary P’s. I didn’t feel guilty about Bun’s fall — kids tumble from time to time, and you just hope they don’t hurt themselves too badly. DearDR blamed me for Bun falling (I was getting the high chair ready for her to sit in, and was not right by her side). I think we were equally culpable because he was sitting next to her, eating pizza and feeding pizza to Monkey. Neither one of us were in position to catch her, and neither one of us stopped her from climbing. That was probably the seed of the spat we had later that day (that and some sexual frustration).

Near-visit two was much less dramatic: DearDR was wiping the stove off, and almost burned the palm of his hand when the wet cloth he was using stopped moving over a hot (very hot) burner.

Then at dinner, I sliced my finger with a very sharp knife while cutting up Bun’s pizza (yes, DearDR and Monkey had pizza twice in one day). It wasn’t a big cut, but in the first five minutes or so afterwards, I thought it was deep enough that it was going to require a stitch or two. Actually, I probably could have gone and gotten those stitches, but I didn’t want to. With enough pressure, it stopped bleeding enough to get two bandages on it, and we went from there. (To literally add insult to injury — or injury to injury, really — I slammed the same finger in the door of Bun’s room last night.)

It wasn’t until yesterday that I thought, “Ooops. Forgot my ABC post. Oh well.” I’m not that upset about it (the way I would have been upset back in November if I hadn’t “succeeded” at the original NaBloPoMo). I let myself off the hook.

I seem to be able to do that more easily more often these days. Hmm. I’ll have to think about that.

And thanks to my (2) commenters from yesterday. I was looking at my stats, and my traffic is pretty good. Just no one says anything often, so I wondered. I’m not the best a posting comments elsewhere, so I have nothing to complain about.

So here’s my Sunday theme: ABCs. And here’s the first ABC post: Big Bird singing the ABCs — which he doesn’t realize are the ABCs.

Although I was too young to see this broadcast, I distinctly remember having a Sesame Street LP with this song on it. I can still remember the tune — it’s in my head right now as I type.

Do you remember it? Or was it before your time? What do you think?

You may have noted that my updates have been few and far between. I want so much to write here, but then I find myself facing 9 p.m. and either: a) a pile of laundry that needs to be folded or b) a book that I really would like to read. Sometimes the kitchen still needs to be cleaned up from dinner, too. And I try to go to bed at 10 p.m. because my days start at 5:30 a.m.

I am not complaining. My job is a very good job; some days are more interesting than others, but almost all of them are busy and pass quickly. The evenings are usually a mix of fun, frustration, chores, and play. Just like when I wasn’t working, actually – just compressed into a couple of hours daily, instead of the all-day, every-day work of being a SAHM. I now refer to myself as a “mom who works outside of the home, too”. I think that fits best. The acronym is goofy-looking, though: MWWOOTHT.

Anyway, N, I am writing this letter to you to kick off a month of posting. I don’t know if I can pull it off. But NaMoBloPo is proposing, in addition to November, that one tries to post for an entire month, randomly. They have proposed themes, and I think I can get behind a letter theme (letter-writing, pics of letters, however letters fit), as April is supposed to be. (What, no poetry? It is National Poetry Month, after all.) And I am writing this letter to you because a lot of the time I think of you when I want to post. You, N, are my target audience. Plus, this is our way of connecting, my way of telling you how I am. It’s easier for me than calling, and more compelling for you to read (I think) than email.

Okay, N, I should run off back to work now. I hope your birthday yesterday was happy, and you got my e-card and my phone message. I miss you a lot, and I hope that we can see each other soon. I am glad we are still friends, even when we don’t get to see each other for years.

I will leave you with this: The other day, we went to a restaurant for dinner. I was on my own with Bun and Monkey. When we didn’t get waited on after 10 minutes, I was ready to pack it in and head home. Monkey threw a fit when I told her we were leaving. She really likes to eat at restaurants. Fortunately, that had the desired affect of getting a server to the table, and I was able to order. When we left, I told Monkey she had been very good throughout dinner, “except for that little meltdown you had at the beginning.” Monkey replied, “Mommy, I don’t melt!”

Don’t you just love how literal children are? In spite of everything they put us through, usually at the end of the day, the memories of their antics bring a smile to our faces.

Love you, N. Kiss your two little buggers for me.

Oh, yeah, I’m expecting number 3 at the end of the year. (Well, technically No. 4.)

Love,
rpm

PS: April Fool’s (just that last part).

(A day late & a dollar short.)

Due to the (greatly exaggerated) demise of Red Pen Mama, it is good that she was able to leave us this record. Her (fake) passing was caused by the crapulous crapula virus, which viciously attacked this past weekend, leaving her weak and limp on the couch. Her last words (before she slipped into a much needed 10 hour nap) were, “Please, please play quietly. Mommy doesn’t feel good.”

The Interview

1) Why did I decide to start writing a weblog? What did I want my blog to be or to mean?

I had stumbled onto a few mommy/daddy blogs, and found them to be entertaining. As far as writing one myself, I didn’t really want to because usually when I wrote, I got paid. It seemed that blogging would be like work, only unpaid.

And then I became a stay-at-home mom, and found out the true meaning of unpaid work.

While I was writing professionally up until Bun was born, I wasn’t writing personally any longer. I hadn’t since Monkey was born — a few journal entries here and there, but nothing on a regular basis. A weblog seemed like a way that I could do that again.

I would really like to have the time to do the research about running ads or otherwise finding a way to make blogging a profitable enterprise. But for now, it’s just kind of a site by me for me. Although I think I have some friends who check in here from time to time, and some fellow bloggers, too, as you can see, RPM is light on the comments. But as I don’t live or die for comments (yet), I will keep this going.

2) Do I consider myself part of the blogging community?

I do have a small community in the blog-o-sphere. I wish I had more time to read and comment more – that seems to be the way to drive traffic to your own site. But I am pretty selfish with my time. As a result, I don’t get around as much as I would like to.

I get intimidated when going around and seeing at the end of a post “75 comments”. Usually, I won’t add to the list in that situation. Really, unless I have something constructive to add to the conversation, I don’t comment. I feel much more comfortable at sites like Cynical Dad and The Weirdgirl because they clearly have regular readers and commenters, but not to the extent of Girl’s Gone Child or Her Bad Mother, both of whom I like to visit.

3) What are the limits of what I will write about on my blog?

I try not to write about fights that DearDR and I get into; that wouldn’t be fair to him. I don’t foresee using my children’s real names even though I post pictures here (or I used to!). Monkey has a very unique name, and I just feel safer not using it. That ultimately may not make sense in this “small world” age, but I’m going to stick by it for now. Although I have TMI posts, I don’t want to be too explicit, and I try not to be blatantly crude. Usually with my TMI posts, I am trying to be a little funny. I don’t like to use foul language (although if properly provoked, I will). Also, I probably won’t be writing about work. Part of it is the “dooce” factor (although, on the other hand, she has a fabulous site and a book deal, so if I am going to lose my job in a dooce situation, I want the outcome to be like hers). Part of it is just that my job is not too exciting. I am very happy to be working, but I am writing copy for computer and high-tech components. If you are a gear head, what I do is very sexy. Otherwise, not so much.

There are a couple of issues I would like to start to write about, but I am unsure if I will. (Not to be tantalizing, but for example, one of the things I would like to examine is what is it like having a close family member with mental illness. Or how it feels when someone close to you tries to kill him/herself.) But those issues can be difficult for a few reasons: 1) They may not be “entertaining” to readers; and 2) They are my side of a more-than-one-sided issue.

Maybe if I create a more anonymous place to post about those things it would be better.

4) How close to the “real” you is the “blogger” you?

Well, I am a wife and mother both on my blog and in real life (IRL, for those of you in the know). I think my voice in my blog writing is pretty true to my voice. I’m not out there trying to misrepresent myself, make myself more popular or funnier than I am. My blog is not like a journal – it is more edited for public consumption than a journal would be.

5) How would someone meeting me for the first time describe me (in 15 words or less)?

If I make a good impression, I think the words would be: smart, dryly funny, sarcastic, quiet, tall & skinny, pretty “in a different way.” If I make a bad impression: aloof, snobbish, too thin, not very interesting.

6) What first attracted you to your spouse, DearDR?

DearDR and I originally met in the very early 1990s, at Duquesne University. Over the years, we would occasionally run into each other and chat for a bit. I always thought he was a cute guy (I also thought he was a nice guy and for a long time, I did not go for nice guys); he always thought I was pretty hot. But up until the fateful night in 1999 that we ran into each other in a bar on the South Side, we were always dating other people.

When we started dating, while I was attracted to him because he was (and IS) very handsome, I especially liked his intelligence. DearDR is one of the smartest people I know, and I love that we can actually have real conversations. When we find the time.

Plus, he was a good kisser, and had beautiful, large hands. Still is and does, as a matter of fact!

7) Why are your kids’ nicknames Monkey and Bun?

We used to call Monkey Monkey-Head, actually. This has much less to do with any strong resemblance to an actual monkey than to her predilection (at one time) for jumping on and climbing up stuff (people, couches, etc.). I decided to use it on my blog because Li’l Miss, another nickname I was prone to use, was already taken. These days I call her Missy May a lot, but I call Bun that, too, so it wouldn’t work here.

Bun grew out of the fact that when I was pregnant, each of the babies needed a nickname (I wasn’t going to go around saying “the fetus” or “the baby” the whole time – or “It”). Gabriel was Li’l Bean; Monkey was Li’l Bug. Bun started out being Bunny because of the number of rabbits around our house, but we shortened it to Bun at some point. It was an unintentional pun, too, on the whole “bun in the oven” thing.

8.) What is your greatest strength? What is your greatest weakness?

My greatest strength is tough. Depends on the circumstances: for example, at work, one of my greatest strengths is that I am very organized. At home, on the other hand, sometimes things get away from me. But my kids and I have a good time together, and I love them fiercely. That’s probably one of my greatest strengths, actually: loyalty to family & friends, and loyalty to what I am passionate about.

My greatest weakness is that I am one of the most personally obtuse people you have ever met. If you are trying to tell me something, you better just tell me, because I will not get a hint. Some people may call that “being honest”, but really, I’m thick in subtle social interactions.

9) Do I have any tattoos? Where are they and what are they?

As I mentioned in my interview with Uncouth Heathen, I have one tattoo, on my left upper arm. I designed it myself (it grew out of a doodle), and it is a representation of the original four elements: earth, air, water and fire. I will post a picture of it someday. When we manage to install our digital camera software on the other PC we picked up.

I started it when I was 22 years old (got it done in just black), and then at 23 I added the fire glyph and color. It is a very pretty tattoo, actually. It probably needs to be re-inked. I always meant to get other tattoos, but I elected to use my disposable income (such as it was) for other things (clothes, CDs, food). I intended to get at least one more before I turned 30, but then found myself getting married and so on. Plus, I never really found another design that I loved.

My children are fascinated by my tattoo – as are most children. It’s like a permanent sticker! The Earth is actually represented by the crescent moon, my favorite phase of the moon (waxing). Aside from Tadone, I am the only one in my family – both sides – with a tattoo.

I have an idea for another tattoo that I may get when I’m 40. It would be small glyphs representing my husband and children, in a circle somewhere (i.e. an angel with a trumpet for Gabriel, a lion for DearDR). I haven’t worked much on it yet, but it is in my head.

DearDR said that if I ever got a tattoo on the small of my back, it better say, “Go, DearDR, Go!” Otherwise, he gives the tattoo idea a thumbs-down.

10) What is your favorite thing about where you live? What is the least favorite?

I love my yard; it needs a lot of work, and a garden, but I love having grass for my girls to run around on. I love living close to Pittsburgh: the Children’s Museum, the Carnegie museums, Kennywood. Additionally, it is very easy to get places we go often, like Erie; we are very near I-79.

The thing I dislike the most about life in the suburbs, and especially on the little cul-de-sac where we reside: the car culture. Aside from short walks around the neighborhood (and, as we have no sidewalks here, even that, for me, is fraught with anxiety), I cannot go anywhere without getting in my car. I cannot pick something up at the store (that is at least a 5 minute drive; longer if I’m heading to Target) or pop into the library (a 10 minute drive) or walk the girls to a playground.

Part of the problem of course is that DearDR and I drive POS cars. Actually, we don’t even drive our own cars right now. Because my car broke down (because, frankly, DearDR is murder on cars), DearDR drives our 15-year-old Lumina that needs to be inspected; and I am driving one of my in-laws’ cars (the station wagon). That has to change, and I hope it will change soon now that I am working. We aren’t going to put any more money into my car; we are angling to buy my mother’s car because she is in the market for a new one. She drives a 2003 Toyota Camary with only about 60,000 miles on it.

11) What the most recent book you finished?

Sick Girl by Amy Silverstein. I didn’t like it very much, and I wish I hadn’t wasted time reading it. I am trying to get into the habit of reading non-fiction, and I thought an autobiography would be a good place to start. That may still be true, but I wish I hadn’t started with this one.

I am currently trying to read The Terror Dream by Susan Faludi. I like it – it is a fascinating look at what 9/11 did to feminism/the feminist movement in the U.S. – but because of my new schedule and everything, it’s hard to get in more than a few pages at a time.

12) What is the most recent music you’ve purchased? CD or download?

I downloaded “Daughter” by Loudon Wainwright from iTunes after seeing Knocked Up (parts of which I found freakin’ hysterical. It was no 40-Year-Old Virgin, though). Maybe this makes me sound sappy, but it got stuck in my head, and I liked it, and it perfectly fits our life – especially from a father’s point of view (DearDR lives this song with Monkey, now, and will soon live it with Bun):

“Everything she sees
she says she wants.
Everything she wants
I see she gets.

That’s my daughter in the water
everything she owns I bought her
Everything she owns.
That’s my daughter in the water
Everything she knows I taught her
Everything she knows.”

I have also discovered Pandora Radio, thanks to one of my new co-workers. If you haven’t discovered it yet, go check it out. As I have no radio or CD player in the car I am driving, Pandora saves my life at work everyday.

Something else you should know about me: Well, actually, it is about DearDR. It is his 39th birthday today. I love you, DearDR. I’m glad the crapulous virus didn’t carry me off, and you rubbed Vicks Va-Po-Rub on me when I couldn’t breathe last night. I still hope we get to have some fun around your birthday. But I would like to feel a lot better than I have since Friday.

Love and kisses, your (still-ill), ever-loving RPM