Red Pen Mama

What the girls are up to:

Bun says new words every day. Her first sentence? “I want that.” Rendered phonetically: “Eyeontdat.” Picture the little pudgy hand reaching out in a grasping motion as well.

Cute — adorable, actually — but probably spells trouble for the future.

DearDR asserts that she hasn’t actually said a sentence because she doesn’t yet understand conjugation: She wants that; you want that. I understand his point, but I’m still calling it her first sentence.

Monkey’s first sentence was a question: “What is that?” Phonetically: “Wot dat?”

Bun doesn’t seem to care, she just wants “dat”. Especially if her sister has it, of course.

Holy cow, I did not realize the “must do everything older sibling is doing” phase would start at 17 months.

And who knew girls wrestled?? I’ll try to post video. As long as I don’t have to intervene to keep someone from suffocating her sister. And that can go either way.

Monkey is dressing herself. She usually does a good job, although she occasionally puts things on backwards. She has not yet insisted on picking out her own clothing. Once in a while, she will insist on wearing her rain boots, but she seems content to leave sartorial decisions to me. For now.

We went to the pediatrician and he proclaimed all ears are clear of fluid and infection. This is a relief, but I wonder how long it will last.

We have an appointment with an ENT doctor at the end of the month.

The chiropractor suggested going dairy free. I am dubious, and my pediatrician was downright nonplussed. I give him credit for not blurting out, “What crazy person told you that??” Because I saw it flit across his face before he became composed and simply said, “I have never heard of dairy affecting ear infections.”

The chiropractic literature is full of the suggestion that dairy allergies lead to ear infections. I have doubts. The pediatric literature doesn’t mention it. So… yeah.

I would like to avoid tubes for the girls as I know they will outgrow this problem. (Thanks for the comments, everyone — online and off.) At the same time, I would like to stop treating them with antibiotics, because I think we may be creating a problem down the line. I have my doubts about going non-dairy because the girls don’t really seem to have a problem with dairy — no lactose intolerance, no runny noses, etc. Plus, they usually get organic dairy, and their exposure to cow’s milk (as a beverage) is minimal. They drink fortified soy or rice “milk”.

Also, quite frankly, going completely dairy-free is next to impossible. I am a label-reader because of the vegetarian thing anyway. I challenge you to find food without some kind of dairy (casein, whey, non-fat milk, you name it). Fresh fruits and veggies are about it. And very expensive organic cookies. But even “Veggie Slices” is loaded with dairy; it just doesn’t contain lactose, which is the most common culprit of gastric distress in those who can’t tolerate dairy.

In short: lots going on, as per usual. We probably will not go dairy-free — I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I feel pretty good that despite the ear infections Bun’s language development is moving right along. No doubt her next sentence will be, “I’m going to scream if I don’t get that.” Oh, wait. She doesn’t really need language per se for that, huh?

At least she is signing “please”.

Wow, those last 50 things really took it out of me.

Not really. Not very much good — or bad, for that matter — stuff has been going on lately. Just life!

First, the cute news: Bun is on the verge of that language explosion that takes place around now. She occasionally seems to be trying to repeat words (I think I’ve heard attempts at “apple” and “thank you”). “Hi”, “Bye” and “baby” are still the standards. She can find her nose, ears, and feet when asked. She can tell you what a duck says — “kak, kak, kak” in case you wanted to know. She signs “more”, “please”, and sometimes “eat”. I am trying to get her to work “cup” and/or “drink” into the repetoire. Because she’s cranky when she doesn’t get her glass of wine.

I took her to the chiropractor last night. The adjustment went well; Bun didn’t cry at all or squirm too much, and it certainly didn’t take long. Monkey, in the meantime, ran around like a maniac, although I asked her repeatedly to get a book and sit and read, or at least, stop running around. We had to go potty twice, of course, at the top of a flight of stairs. It was exhausting.

But if it helps Bun with the fluid in her ears, I am all for it. Doing the math as I was filling out the paperwork last night, I realized that Bun has taken about 40 doses of antibiotics since February. That seems like a lot to me.

Also cute: Monkey singing “Here Comes the Sun” with the Concert for George CD. DearDR decided to teach it to her. Without fail, when Joe Brown sings, “Little darlin’”, Monkey interjects, “Tadone calls me little darlin’.”

He does indeed, my sweet Monkey. I know why.

In other good news: We are the proud owners (of a big, fat loan for) a 2002 Toyota Camry sedan. Actually, the loan isn’t that bad because we were able to put some money down; the monthly payments are well within the budget.

On the not-so-fabulous side of the equation: DearDR’s car, a 1993 Chevy Lumina, the inspection sticker on which is almost two years out-of-date (yes, I know he could get a ticket. He DID get a ticket) gave up the ghost. To put it in my husband’s words, “No human being should get into that car and drive it out of our driveway ever again.”

All our options for getting a new car pretty much add up to: Go deeper into debt. And take the time to shop for a car. Yesterday. Between this message, DearDR’s long hours, and my continuing mandatory overtime, it’s enough to make our heads explode.

So I’m sending him shopping with his friend Pete and Burgh Baby’s Mom. I’ll get you two the terms. BBM, you won’t be looking at an Audi this time. Think Hyundai. A 2000 vintage.

And I was seriously pressed for time yesterday to get Bun to the chiropractor (for a 6:15 appointment, and I had to cross the Sewickley Bridge), so we went to Burger King.

Now, I know that for many families the occasional trip to a fast-food restaurant is nothing out of the ordinary. But it was Bun’s very first time in a fast-food restaurant; Monkey’s… fourth, I’ll estimate.

The primary reason we don’t go, of course, is that we are vegetarians. The other two reasons are: Supersize Me (seriously funny, but seriously disturbing) and Fast Food Nation (the movie is good, too).

I reconciled myself to the fact that the BK Veggie and fries were probably not 100% meat-free, in the interest of time, and in the interest of not having screaming toddlers on my hands. Practicality won over idealism.

Please don’t judge me too harshly. (Just kiddin’.)

For the record: Until today at approximately 1:30 p.m., I hadn’t changed a poopy diaper in 5 days.

For the record: I may be skinny, but I am out of shape. As my 20-minute workouts (twice this week), 15-minute hallway walks, and today’s snow shoveling prove.

For the record: Hot Pockets, the broccoli cheese ones with Whole Grain Crust!, are perhaps the most disgusting thing I have ever put in my mouth.

DearDR, if meat-filled Hot Pockets are half as disgusting as the one I took one bite of yesterday, I apologize. I will never, ever buy them again. Please forgive my lapse of judgement.

I wish I had seen this first:

Monkey had her three year check up today. She is put together perfectly in every way. She weighs 33 pounds and is 38 inches tall. Monkey really enjoyed her check up, and was chatty with the doctor, and just generally easy going and relaxed.

And then she got two shots.

Talk about spoiling a perfectly nice time. She’s been pouting and limping since, except for those times when she is doing what she wants (arts and crafts, playing up at the mall). At those latter times, she is just fine.

Bun played peek-a-boo with Monkey and me today. We were in the downstairs potty; Monkey crawled up to the door and partially closed it. I thought she was headed up the stairs, which are right there. But then, her little hand appeared, grasped the door and pulled it open. Then she peeked her head around it at Monkey and me.

Monkey and I broke up laughing. I said, “Are you playing peek-a-boo with us?” Bun continued to play for a few minutes, while Monkey and I laughed and laughed. It was adorable.

DearDR is convinced Bun said her first word the other day. He says she took her binky out of her mouth, tried to put it in his, and said, “bingy” (i.e. binky). I am skeptical, primarily because she really hasn’t even said “dada” yet. I mean, she makes the “da da da da” sound, but she hasn’t quite addressed DearDR yet.

And she certainly isn’t saying “mama”. Little ingrate.

But DearDR wants to note for the record that he thinks her first word was binky. So noted, husband.

Now, I really have to go clean my kitchen because somehow, in the space of only a few hours, it has gotten completely trashed. We’ve been out most of the day — although we have eaten here. I guess the eat-and-run has buried the kitchen sink in dirty dishes. And I’d like to clean it up before I start dinner and it just gets messed up again. (Is there logic in that? Probably not. The logic that says, “Why make my bed? I’m just going to sleep in it again later.” Which reminds me, I also have to change the sheets…)

Nothing new to see here. As you may have guessed by my not posting for more than a week. Monkey and I still suffer from inconsistant potty training; although on one hand I am trying to be more consistant — and on the other, Monkey is becoming more resistant.

DearDR took his licensure test a week ago today. We will not know the results for another week or two. We feel as if we are in a Schrodinger’s cat situation.

The only interesting thing that has happened was attending DearDR’s 20th high school reunion. It was fun, believe it or not. The people with whom DearDR went to school were… I don’t know, pretty cool. Easy to hang out with even though I hadn’t met them before. And no, I didn’t have too much to drink.

As a result of meeting the spouse of one of DearDR’s classmates, I am going to try to change my whole getting-a-job approach. I’m going to become more aggressive. I’m also going to rewrite my resume. But it was informative. It was good to get a fresh viewpoint, because I have really been struggling.

Speaking of struggles, I must go clean my kitchen now. Sorry I don’t have anything good. Maybe next time!

Well, okay, here’s a picture of Bun.

But, really, that’s all I got.

It’s been a week, a busy week, yet at the same time, oddly eventfull-less. Shopping trips (grocery-type shopping, not the fun-type shopping), a birthday party, visits to a waterpark, the library.

A few updates:

DearDR passed his first test to become a licensed psychologist. He — and therefore we — is (are) on his (our) way. As he said as he embraced me this morning with the letter still in-hand, “This is going to happen.”

Monkey pooped in the potty. She has also peed a couple of times in the potty. We have a ways to go, but we are going. (Oh, sorry, pun.) M&Ms are, indeed, fantastic motivators.

Bun not quite crawling forward. But so close. Crawling, almost, backwards instead. I wish I could motivate her with M&Ms! Chewing ziewback toast instead (she does not eat it, per say, as the goop down her bib and on her food tray can attest. Pictures coming soon). Being sweet, sweet, sweet (this isn’t new, but bears repeating, IMHO).

I am still unemployed, but not for lack of wanting not to be (if that makes sense). We were even thinking up strategies to “run into” my old boss downtown in the elevator at 6 or 7 a.m., and make the argument to get hired again. But then I discovered the firm had hired another writer. So, as I said to DearDR: “Next!”

Oh, and, um, ashamed to say, have bought pack of cigarettes. Have smoked a few on my front porch/stoop. First one from said pack smoked in a restaurant with Beck’s “New Pollution” playing. No, not ironic at all.

Thought provoking stuff to read online:

Her Bad Mother points out that foisting Bratz Dolls on the “matriarchy” is simply nonsense. (What an awesome argument this is. I wish I had said it even half as well. Especially as the mom of two girls.)
Cynical Dad realizes how lucky he is.
Earthmother talks about the unkindest cut and — more importantly — how to avoid it.
Girl’s Gone Child is lonely, as a lot of moms are. I think young moms, like GGC, are a little lonelier than us “older” (I think I have about ten years on GGC) moms. I miss my friends a lot, though, being able to see them whenever. Although I don’t want to stay out with them until 1 a.m. any longer. What I would really like is a day or two to not get up at 7 a.m. and go until 8:30 p.m. with kids, alone. That is my fondest wish (my fondest selfish wish; my fondest wish is that my children grow up to be beautiful and brilliant and happy and well-adjusted).

I have let the weblog go this month. Not that anyone is paying attention. I got Bun into “daycare” (a woman who watches kids at her home) with Monkey; they both go twice a week. I’m not back to full time work, yet. I thought on the days the kids weren’t here I would look for a full-time job and do something new and cool (and possibly involving advertising) with this weblog.

But then two freelance opportunities came my way, and I took them. They’ve been a bit more trouble than I originally bargained for (especially one), but I’m doing okay. It hasn’t given me any time to do anything else on the days that the kids are away from me, though.

I don’t have much to report other than that. The Bun had her four-month check-up. In two months, she gained 3 and 1/2 pounds and grew 2 and 1/2 inches. That’s on about 75 percent mother’s milk, and 25 percent formula. She is sleeping longer at night, getting up once around 5 a.m. We just had a couple of tough bedtimes; I have let her “cry it out”. It’s distressing, but after about 15 minutes tonight, she was asleep.

Monkey continues to amuse and amaze. The way she puts things together floors me. For example, while dancing to the Beach Boys “Catch a Wave” the other day, she got an idea. DearDR was playing the guitar, and Monkey ran into her playroom (which doubles as our TV/family room). She dumped out her play drum, grabbed the tamborine, and ran back to her daddy and “Catch a Wave”. She started playing along — in rhythm no less. (She doesn’t get that from me!) Another day, she was playing with an electronic toy that plays songs. She got out her Mrs. Potato head and made her dance along with the music. It was adorable.

I missed writing about Mother’s Day, which given that my Mother’s Day kind of sucked, is probably okay. You know what I want for Mother’s Day next year? Two days at a spa. Alone. Yeah, it was that kind of Mother’s Day. If you want to read about a good one, see what Earthmother got up to, go here to read a moving Mother’s Day piece. And don’t forget: we’re all good mothers — er, parents. (And I promise to write about why I am soon.)

As Her Bad Mother knows, sometimes the blog subjects get backed up. I keep thinking, “oh I can write about that” but then I don’t get here.

I could write about clipping off the tip of Bun’s finger when I was clipping her nails. That was fun. Any idea how many blood vessels are in the tip of a finger? LOTS. And they don’t make little wee bandaids for infants. And if you do manage to get one on your infant, your older daughter will need one, too, stat. Especially if Dora is on it.

I could write about hosting Easter Bunch, but it went so well, I guess it wouldn’t be worth it. Then the next weekend I could write about the baptism (of my nephew) and the (semi) interesting conversation with the priest, who is a childhood friend of my brother. Maybe I’ll get back to that one.

Or, how my sister and her Boston Terrier stayed here for a four-day visit, and just about every word out of Monkey was about the dog. “Where’s Buddy?” “What’s Buddy doing?” “Get out of there Buddy.” “Down Buddy.” And back to “Where’s Buddy?” “There’s Buddy!” And how when I put (poor, exhausted) Buddy to “bed” one night in the guest room, how my daughter lay down weeping in the hallway outside the door with a blanket. “I’m very, very sad,” she informed me. “I want to go to bed.” Uh, okay!

How about I finally thought about three more reasons I can’t stand Dora!

8. Is it necessary that sometimes Dora shows little midriff? I mean, she’s supposed to be five years old or something, isn’t she? Is she going to grow up to be the Hispanic Britney Spears?
9. A tie between the giggling stars (or estrellas) and Backpack: things and knick-knacks, too. Both make me cranky.
10. See, I should have written them down, because now I forget. It’ll come back to me.

Lastly, and I will probably write more about this (on a night that Lost isn’t on): I am contemplating going back to work full-time. Actually, doing a little more than contemplating. Planning for it. Reluctantly. But I have to be realistic about our life and our finances. And I have to do something since DearDR can’t until he gets his license. Which is still about two months away.

And oh, boy, could I write about that.

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I’ve just joined Mary P and several other bloggers in a Book Binge. I am quite excited. I plow through a number of books each week, and here is a chance to see how many I plow through in a month! I’m excited.

To begin, I wanted to paste this Literary Meme, also from Mary P (she has a much nicer layout than I can muster at this point):

Mark next to the books:
READ for those you’ve read;
WANT TO next to those you are interested in;
AGAIN & AGAIN next to those you’ve read and loved, over and over;
REPEAT for those you’ve read more than once, without necessarily loving them;
MEH for stuff you read and weren’t impressed by;
STARTED for those that just never got finished;
and leave blank those you don’t care to read.

I took the liberty of adding a category: Never Heard Of. I may look into these, and try to read them this month if they sound interesting!

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown) Read
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen) Read
3. To Kill a Mocking Bird (Harper Lee) Repeat
4. Gone with the Wind (Margaret Mitchell) Read
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkein) Repeat
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Rings (Tolkein) Repeat
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkein) Repeat
8. Anne of Green Gables (L. M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabldon) Again & Again
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry) Never Heard Of
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fine (J. K. Rowling) Again & Again
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown) Read
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling) Again & Again
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving) Repeat
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golding) Read
16. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone Again & Again
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie McDonald) Never Heard Of
18. The Stand (Stephen King) Again & Again
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Again & Again
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte) Repeat
21. The Hobbit (Tolkein) Repeat
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J. D. Salinger) Repeat
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott) Read
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold) Want to (waiting at the library for me as we speak!)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel) Read
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams) Again & Again
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte) Repeat
28. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis) Again & Again
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom) Meh
31. Dune (Frank Herbert) Read
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand) Repeat
34. 1984 (George Orwell) Read
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley) Again & Again
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett) Never Heard Of
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay) Never Heard Of
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb) Repeat
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant) Repeat
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho) Meh
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel) Repeat
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella) Want to
44. The Five People you Meet in Heaven (Albom)
45. The Bible Need to Read Again & Again!
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy) Read
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Dumas) Want to
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt) Read
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck) Meh
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb) Repeat
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver) Read
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens) Read
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card) Never Heard of
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald) Repeat
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence) Never Heard Of
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling) Again & Again
58. The Thorn Birds (Collen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood) Again & Again
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger) Never Heard Of
61. Crime and Punishment (Dostoyevsky) Want to
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand) Repeat
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview with a Vampire (Anne Rice) Repeat
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis) Never Heard Of
66. One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez) Meh
67. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares) Read
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller) Repeat
69. Les Miserables (Hugo) Started
70. The Little Prince (Antione de Saint-Exupery) Again & Again
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Helen Fielding) Repeat
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez) Started
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett) Repeat
76. Tigana (Guy Gavriel Kay) Again & Again
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith) Read
78. The World According to Garp (Irving) Repeat
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence) Never Heard Of
80. Charlotte’s Web (E. B. White) Read — and want to again
81. Not Wanted on the Voyage (Timothy Findley) Never Heard Of
82. Of Mice and Men (Steinbeck) Read
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier) Repeat
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind) Read
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams) Again & Again
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) Repeat
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields) Read
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago) Never Heard Of
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffery Archer) Never Heard Of
91. In the Skin of a Lion (Ondaatje) Never Heard Of
92. Lord of the Flies (William Golding) Repeat
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck) Read
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd) Meh
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum) Read
96. The Outsiders (S. E. Hinton) Read
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch) Meh
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford) Never Heard Of
99.The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce) Started

This list seems a little arbitrary to me, a mix of classics and modern “classics”. I wonder how the books got on it. And let’s be honest, a number of these I read in high school, and will probably never read again. My loss. Maybe this list will have me revisiting some.

All Time Favorite on the List: The Little Prince
Close Second: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe
Close Third: The Stand

Total Read: 67

Literature, it seems.

I just finished Jane Smiley’s latest novel Ten Days in the Hills. I didn’t think I would like it for two reasons: I thought it was an excuse for her to write about sex (which she does well, but I didn’t think I would be interested), and the novel is based on Boccaccio’s Decameron, about which (until a moment ago) I knew zilch. But I’ve always liked Smiley as an author, so I thought I would give it a shot.

I ended up, though, really enjoying it. If you don’t know anything about The Decameron, it’s okay; you don’t need to in order to appreciate the novel and the way it is constructed. But if you want to know the basics, check here for some information about it.

The basic premise is: it’s the day after the Academy Awards in 2003, the war in Iraq has just begun, and ten people hole up in the Hollywood hills. Mothers, daughters, sons, lovers and friends. While the book is not about the war, per se, it obliquely addresses it through the characters and their thoughts, conversations, interactions. There is a lot of erotica/sex, but it is not at all gratuitous.

Anyway, I’m not writing a book review here. I liked the book, and I highly recommend it.

No, my point is more self-reflective. It’s my weblog, after all. So, yeah, it is all about me.

We’ve been in Iraq more than four years now, as of a little over a week ago. Four years, with no sign of an end.

I don’t support the war, and I didn’t vote for the guy who got us there. And while I’ve verbally aligned myself as against the war and have since before it started, I haven’t actually done anything about it.

No marches, no protests. Just conversations, some contentious, sometimes with like-minded people, sometimes not (hi, Dad-In-Law!).

I actually did do some volunteer work to try to get Kerry elected. Maybe that counts as something.

When this war started, I was pregnant with Gabriel. I remember seeing Baghdad in flames, and feeling a keen sadness. One of the oldest cities in the world, in ruins. I also remember laying in bed with DearDR, our tiny unborn child between us. I’m not sure I can put into words the protectiveness, the fear, the… wonder of it.

In some part of the world, people were (are) dying, and here we were, my husband and I, attempting to bring forth new life. Was it naivety? Love? Hope? Ignorance? I still wonder. Is bringing children into this world responsible? I mean, we’re at war; global warming is a reality; who the hell knows what is going to happen in 50 years?

But while one part of my brain examines this idea, most of me just wants to go on with my life. My small life, with DearDR, with Monkey and Bun, with love and hope, and yeah, maybe some ignorance. I know I attempted to write a poem about this a couple of years ago. I was standing at my kitchen sink listening to NPR, looking at the bunnies out in our yard, and hanging out with a 9-month-old baby girl who was going to be walking in another month. I like my small world.

Is that selfish? I don’t know. I pray for the safety of the troops; I pray for the end of the war. I even pray for forgiveness for those responsible for the killing and dying — on both sides. But I’m not out there in the street. I guess my passion is for my small world.

As an aside, when the first Gulf War started, that very night was the first time I smoked pot. I was nineteen years old, in college. My thought process upon being asked if I wanted to get high, if I recall correctly, was, “Why the heck not? We’re at war.”

I don’t feel that way, that “what the heck” way. I mean I often think, “What the hell??” about the war, about our leaders, about politics and the wider world in general.

But I know that I didn’t think that about getting married or having kids. Especially about having kids. And I certainly don’t throw my hands up now and think, “Well what the heck? We’re at war.” That’s not part of my decision process at this point.

It can’t be. I know it’s part of the world, my world even. But it’s not necessarily part of my small world. And I would like to keep it that way.