SICK DAY, PART FIVE.

Yes, I'm shouting a bit in the subject line of this post.

I was able to go in to work at the ass-crack of dawn to get some much-needed stuff done, and got home at 12:20 (Greg has meetings this afternoon and tonight, so I had to come home to take over Jane duty). I noticed Jane's rash had definitely intestified and spread since last night. So I made a call to the ped's office and they squeezed us in at 12:30, right before their lunch break (yup, I had 10 minutes to make an at least 15 minute drive - that crazy lady with the baby you saw literally running through WHC? that was me). The doc looked her over and determined - or at least, made his best guess based on the timing of her symptoms - that she has roseola, which is basically a common ailment for babies that features high fever, high fever, high fever, no fever...then RASH. Sounds familiar, huh? Not sure about the puking, because that's not typical of roseola.

Anywho, she has this horrible rash from head to toe. He gave her some Zyrtec (sp?) and said it should go away in a few days. Of course the bonus is, when he checked her ears he thought they looked a little pink. Not red enough to give her the drugs and make it go away - just pink enough to suggest that an ear infection MAY be on its way. He said if the fever comes back in the next couple of days, to call him and he'll call in the prescription.

But, hey! Remember when all of my blogging was supposed to help support Down Syndrome Awareness Month? And how, instead, all my posts have been all "woe is me" and shit? Well, I have another site to recommend to you. Days with Dylan is written by mom Laurie, whose son was born almost four months ago. He was diagnosed with Down syndrome and also has to have heart surgery in November. Despite this unexpected news, Laurie writes a very optimistic and entertaining blog about her family, which also includes a two-year-old daughter. Worth checking out, I promise!

sick day, part 4.

Jane stayed home with Greg today because I absolutely had to go in to work. When I got home I found that she was covered with a full body rash. A last-minute call to the doctor told me that it was probably the end part of her virus; that it sometimes manifests into a rash like this. It was too late to bring her in, so it's not an official diagnosis, but that's what he thought. She is, understandably, completely miserable still.

Me? Yeah, me too.

Words kind of fail me at this point.

sick day, part 3

I don't even want to write about this anymore. Last night was a complete disaster - Jane seems to have a perfect storm of stomach bug, fever, and big-time teething (molars coming in). This all resulted in SCREAMING - non-stop, nerve-shredding screaming - throughout the day today. I ended up working from home and not going in, and I was only able to do this because the other girls in my department were able to pick up my slack. I HATE the fact that I couldn't go in - after many years of working for my parents, I have a pretty strong work ethic, and hate leaving people hanging. This is the worst part of being a working parent - the choice is extreme guilt for staying home with a sick kid and not being at work, or extreme guilt for going to work and not being at home with the sick kid. Today she was in way too much agony for me to go in, and luckily, I was able to make that choice.

I feel pretty beaten down, though. It's frustrating never feeling like I'm doing enough, in one part of my life or another. Of course, the massive lack of sleep over the past few nights isn't helping either.

Aren't you glad I decided to blog for 31 days?

sick day part 2

So, Day Two of Jane's sick-o-rama was just delightful. It started at around midnight with her waking up and throwing up, then repeated again at 3:30 a.m., and then 5:30 a.m. Her temp has gone up and down from 99 to 102 all day, and she's been so clingy and sad. Her mood seemed to be better this afternoon, but then she crashed again tonight, and her temp went up again to 102, which is scary to me. We went to the doctor's office today and they basically just said it was a viral thing, no ear infection, thank God. But still, I have no idea when she's going to get better, and as mentioned before, I really cannot miss any work this week, if it can be at all avoided.

I'm going to stay with her until about noon tomorrow and then go into work, and Greg will handle the rest of the day. But nothing gives you a dose of major mommy-guilt than heading out the door when your baby is sick. It just makes me feel like crap.

And the week goes on...

sick day.

So Jane has some sort of bug which has given her a pretty decent fever, stomach sickness, lethargy, etc. Poor thing woke up miserable and it has continued all day. Just put her to bed, still with a fever and overall yuck. I feel so badly for her. I don't know why it is I look forward to the weekends; something like this always happens.

In the back of my head I am getting steadily concerned for the upcoming week. Although I have tomorrow off because of the holiday (and will no doubt end up in the pediatrician's office), this work week coming up is one of the busiest I've had in months, and it's not the kind of week where I can work from home - it'd be totally impossible, in fact. And knowing that it usually takes a couple of days to catch a stomach bug, that would mean it would hit for me on......Tuesday.

My primary concern is, of course, for poor Jane. I hate that I'm thinking of myself at all. But as a working mom, this is just how my brain works. The balance seems impossible, sometimes.

this one's for Shane.

It was "Sports Day" at daycare on Friday. Jane wore a shirt from Shane's favorite team. Except totally NOT his favorite team. Dare I say, the opposite of his favorite team?

Bonus post for today

Wow. I have to say good for McCain. His crowds are out of control at this point.

Read this.

'til death do us part

Connecticut has many, many faults (the impending asstasatic winter weather being one major one). But today's news put a big fat check in the "pros" column about our fair state. It's about damn time.

I will now anxiously await the invitations to arrive in my mailbox!

the porcelain throne

Last night I went to a "Toilet Training from the Trenches" class at Jane's daycare. I can truly say there is nothing as enjoyable - read, torturous - as the idea of going BACK to Jane's daycare after picking her up, giving her dinner, and shoving some food down my own throat, but off I went last night, with Greg getting the lucky duty of dealing with Jane's bedtime ritual. And I truly do mean he was lucky.

The class took place in the 3-4 year olds room, which was interesting to see. It looks like all sorts of fun up there, with art projects, a science center, and other cool stuff. I would have much preferred checking out Jane's future digs than sitting in a chair designated for someone 32 years younger than me (not good for my back, which has already been in agony these past couple of weeks-woe is me!).

Anyway, the lady teaching the (mercifully short) class was from the United Way, and was perfectly lovely, and she gave a little talk, and people asked questions, and we all got a handout detailing what and when we need to do in regards to the almighty transition from diaper to crapper.

I have to tell you, I could barely keep a straight face. There was so much sincere talk about "poopie" and "pee pee" and "BMs" and something called "pee targets" (did you know such a thing exists? for boys? you float little targets in the toilet? HA!) that I could hardly contain my laughter. And I felt bad, because while the whole conversation was very theoretical for me because Jane is only 14 months, but all the other parents had more age-appropriate kids (between 2 and 4) and some of them were having real problems with the whole process.

The next step, in a few months, is for us to start identifying to Jane what it is she's doing in her diaper. But I'm already doing that! I have a song called "There's a Poop in Your Butt and Your Mama's Gonna Get It Out" and everything! We also get to start going to the bathroom in front of her. What a supreme treat for everyone!

this election needs to get over with so I can go back to my regularly scheduled life

It was Debate Night in America again last night, and once again, I was glued to my TV, simultanously watching the big show while also monitoring various websites and liveblogs covering the event. Although I've always been interested in politics, I find I've become positively obsessed over the past 12 months (as I am sure you have noticed).

My mother demanded that I register to vote the instant I turned 18 – her mantra being, “If you don’t vote, you can’t complain.” I’ve voted in nearly every election since, only missing one or two local elections. And, Lord, have I complained.

As for presidential elections, I’ve voted Clinton, Clinton, Gore, Kerry…and now Obama. I voted for the winner twice, then the loser twice…time for a win again, I say.

Although I do clearly remember screaming in misery during the last presidential election in 2004 when it became clear that Bush had somehow won again – while on my honeymoon in Hawaii (how dare he muck up my escape to paradise!) – I don’t think I’ve ever been as invested in an election as I am this year. When I start thinking about November 4, my heart starts beating faster, with a combination of terror and tentative excitement. If Obama loses, I will cry big, fat, "we have failed" tears.

The other night, my friend remarked the same thing, and said that although she fears that underneath his sheen of hope and change Obama is the same sort of sleazy politician we have all come to detest, she finds herself really wanting to believe that he’s one of the good ones. That the things he says are true. She commented that “this must have been what people felt like about JFK.”

Indeed.

you should see the other guy

I had this whole post worked up in my head about the election (yes, I know, surprising), but then I picked up Jane from daycare today, and immediately changed my blog topic for today.

You can't see it too clearly in these pictures, but she is all scraped up under and above her left eye. I got the dreaded "accident report" (we've gotten three of these in the past couple of weeks!) when I picked her up, which detailed how she slipped and fell out on the playground today, basically giving herself a rug burn on her face (yes, they have a rug in the playground, I'm not sure why). She took it like a champ though, and didn't even cry. I wanted to cry when I saw her, however!

You must admit, it gives her a bit of that "don't mess with me" aura, though.

zen

As I was pushing through rush hour traffic this afternoon, on the way to pick up Jane at daycare and start the craziness that is my evening schedule, I started to think of where I would rather be. Right away, I thought of two places that instantly put me at peace: the bookstore and the beach.

I LOVE going to the bookstore. This past Sunday morning, I abandoned Jane and Greg at home for an hour and headed to Borders BY MYSELF. Prior to Jane, Greg and I would go every Saturday morning to read magazines and drink mochas. I don't know if it's the smell of the books or the coffee or a mixture of both, but the minute I walk in, I can feel myself physically calming down. Since having Jane, and especially now that she's older, it's not really easy to have a relaxing morning at the bookstore. Sure, I take her there all the time, but disassembling and reassembling the children's section isn't quite the same. And now that I don't get to go as often - at least not without a kid in tow - it's even more of a treat.

Even more so, I love going to the beach. Some of my favorite memories with my family, and especially my father, are from our family vacations that we took at the Connecticut shoreline every summer. I don't know whether I'm much of a spiritual person, but I know that I positively feel my dad when I'm at the beach. I just have to go down to the water, stand at the edge, and stare out - and all the memories come flooding back. On top of that, there is just nothing better than going to the beach alone, finding a perfect spot (preferably next to a group of college kids, so I can hear all the good gossip) and reading for the day in the sun.

So, in conclusion: sun + books = Zen Amanda. What's your formula?

we were waiting for this, of course

sigh.

Let's face it, Sarah. You wanted to talk about what you had written on your notecards. I love how she says she was "annoyed" instead of just "completely unprepared to answer fairly simple questions." Hell, I can answer the question of what magazines and newspapers I read. And, yes Sarah, you are going to get clobbered for everything you say. Just like Obama, McCain, and Biden have been. You are running for national office. Is there something about that you don't understand?



PS YES - I did actually get to out last night! Like a real person who goes out! On the weekend!

rock the vote!

No, no, not THAT vote. I am exhausted by last night's election - not just that it was late, but that some people think Palin did SO WELL - why? WHY, PEOPLE? Because she didn't completely choke? Because she didn't start crying? Because what I saw was someone who was prepared on SOME questions, and who evaded other, direct questions to funnel back to the topics on which she felt most comfortable. Also, I can't stand her. Especially the cutesy shit. I DO in fact want someone MUCH smarter than me to be President, not someone who is just like me, or, God forbid, not as smart as me. See? I can't write about this election anymore, because it makes me all rageish.

No, the topic to vote on is about tonight. See, I actually have plans tonight to go out with one of my friends from my newspaper days. We are supposed to eat, drink and be merry - so what will happen to make me have to cancel? Your choices are:

A) Jane gets sick (the obvious choice)
B) Jimmy has some highly unusual medical problem that has to be seen by a vet immediately, if not sooner
C) Something happens to the boat and Greg has to go down to Old Saybrook
D) I get sick

Or perhaps a lovely combination of a couple of those choices! Vote now!

you can see into the future with those glasses

That is what my brother says about my glasses.

I am a blind mofo. Not really, but probaby as close as anyone you know who isn't actually blind. So you can imagine my shock - nay, HORROR - yesterday morning when I heard the "snap" as I was cleaning off my glasses. Yup. Right. In. Half.

I freaked. I truly cannot see without my glasses. It's not that I just need them to drive, or read, or work - I need them to walk across the room. I don't have a backup pair, because, if you all remember, Jimmy chewed those up a couple of years ago. I do have contact lenses, but, ever since I was about 22, my eyes have completely rejected them.

However, yesterday offered me no other option. Greg had a very early morning meeting so I had to get Jane ready for the day, to daycare, and myself to work before I could even deal with trying to get in touch with my eye doctor to schedule an exam (oh, yeah - I was two years overdue for an eye exam). I plopped the contacts in my eyes, braced myself for eyeball agony, and went on my way.

I was able to get a doctor's appointment at noon (my eye doctor is in an office at LensCrafters). All was well, so I brought my prescription to the store and picked out some new frames (but I didn't really wanna - I loved my old frames!). Now, I know you're thinking - LensCrafters is great! They can make glasses in about an hour! Not with my suck-ass eyes, they can't. They have to order special lenses that are ground down so they're not super thick, with the special non-glare coating, blah diddy blah blah blah - and I was given the bad news that it would take a week for them to come in.

The very nice optomitrist suggested I pick out some discount frames, and they could put the thicker, glare-y lenses that they can make on the spot in that afternoon. That way, I would have a backup pair for the week, and then in the future, when I inevitably break my nice ones again.

There was really no other option. I couldn't bear to wear contacts for a whole week - at that point I just wanted to rip my eyeballs out as it was - so I picked out some (fugly) frames and got my (fuglier) lenses and now I'm walking around with what looks to me like laboratory glasses. A face shield, if you will. People have been nice to say that they look OK, but they are lying liars.

The whole experience cost me over $600. Six hundred dollars. I hope everyone's looking forward to their framed pictures of Jimmy pict for Christmas this year, because that's going to be about all I can afford. And that's only if I make the frames with popsicle sticks.

31 for 21

You'll see a new link on the right side of this page called "31 for 21." October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month, and there is a campaign being led by Trish at Unringing the Bell for all bloggers to try to blog for 31 days (in a row)(I know!!) to help raise awareness about Down Syndrome. Here's the paragraph that got me:

Why should I do it?
This is the one question I can be unambiguous about. I propose you do it in honor of Down Syndrome Awareness Month. One thing I can say certainly, is that writing--blogging specifically--has helped me in numerous ways as the mother of a child with Down syndrome. I value the people I have met, the friends I have made, and the information I have gathered on blogs. Wouldn't it be wonderful if new parents googled Down syndrome and our blogs came up? What a welcome wagon that would be!

But that doesn’t mean you HAVE to write about Down syndrome. I think it’s beneficial for folks to read about people who are affected by Down syndrome and see that our lives are just the same as anyone else’s!

I propose whether or not you personally know someone affected by DS that you do it in honor of those living with DS as a part of their lives; to raise awareness of Down syndrome. (And, well, it WOULD be nice if you mentioned that's why you're doing it in at least ONE of your blog entries.)

I have talked about it on here a decent amount, so you all know that when I was pregnant with Jane, we were given 1/77 odds of her having Down syndrome, and while she did not end up being born with Down syndrome, it's a topic that has become close to my heart. Although people told me over and over that "she'll be fine" or "don't worry" or "blah blah blah" (that's how it sounded to me) I knew I needed to educate myself on what exactly Down syndrome is. My search led to me some scary, outdated medical sites, and to some wonderful, amazingly-written blogs, several of which I continue to read, because as it turns out, much, if not most, of parenting is a universal experience, no matter what issues your child confronts. I plan to recommend some of those blogs to you throughout the month, the first being Jennifer Graf Gronberg's Pinwheels. She writes beautifully about her life with her three sons, one of which has Down syndrome. She wrote a very compelling book, Road Map to Holland, about the early years with her son Avery, who has Ds - it is truly a book you can't put down. Take the time to check her out.

So - yeah. I plan to blog for 31 days in a row. HELP! I need suggestions. Is there anything pressing you feel like you must know about my life? Tomorrow I will blog about my glasses adventure today, titled "How You Know Your Wednesday Is Going to Suck - An Adventure in Snapping Your Glasses in Half First Thing in the Morning."

what a week

Well, my birthday week left a little bit to be desired. Jane had a bad ear infection which resulted in throwing up (in one particular instance, on me, in Target), no sleeping, and general misery. We had some trouble throwing together a roster of babysitters for Jane to cover our day in New York yesterday, but it managed to work out. Greg and I were able to go in to see IN THE HEIGHTS yesterday - FINALLY - and I truly fell in love with this show. I was so psyched to have the opportunity to see the whole original Broadway cast, and, in particular, Beth's boyfriend and the show's creator, Lin-Manuel Miranda. It was such an amazing show and I cannot wait to see it again, because I know there was tons of stuff I missed. This show absolutely shot to my top five best shows ever, and possibly the top three.

Someday, when I get enough sleep, I will actually write more interesting blog entries, like how fascinated I was that John McCain plans to cut all spending except for his favorite hobby, the war. How fast this country is going even deeper into the shitter.

Instead, I leave you with this, to entice you to go see IN THE HEIGHTS! Go! Now! I insist!

Letterman love

I used to have a bit of an intellectual crush on David Letterman. I think it's back.

thirty five

It could have been as early as 15 - but definitely by 20 - that I decided that 35 was my scary "real adult" age. That it didn't matter how much I screwed up throughout my late teens, entire twenties, and early thirties, I really had to have my life together by the time I turned 35.

Lord, how those years flew by. I remember thinking, "I've got 15 years left 'til then" or "I've got 5 years left 'til then" and now I'm thinking "I've got eight hours left 'til then."

I don't see any major maturing going on between now and midnight, especially since I'll be having some cocktails with friends later this evening.

I mentioned this whole life theory to a friend who basically asked what it was I didn't think I had - I'm married, I've got the house, dogs, kid, good job. Health insurance. I pay my bills. I stayed home today with a sick kid and got puked on by her in Target. I actual squealed with delight when I realized the first presidential debate was on this Friday night. I claimed to Greg that watching it would be a "hot date." The other day, when checking the mailbox for birthday cards, I was even more excited to find a jury duty notice addressed to me - a first-ever. There is a part of me that thinks not only am I a real adult, I'm a lame-ass real adult to boot.

I suppose I expected to feel more grown-up at this point. As mentioned, I've got all the trappings of an adult. I definitely don't care what people think of me as much as I used to. I don't feel comfortable shopping in Abercrombie & Fitch anymore. I feel weird if I wear t-shirts with "funny" sayings on them. Clearly, there is some degree of growing up that has happened. But deep down, I just don't feel like an adult. Let's face it, my primary hobby, theater, is rooted in make-believe. I spent time today pondering if I should watch the first season of "Gossip Girl." I cannot wait until "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2" comes out on DVD.

The thing of it is, I really don't think most of my peers are that much more together than I am. I don't look around and think, look at all of these adults! To me, there is a level of humor that my generation - Gen X - is now retro, that I graduated from high school 17 years ago, that Sarah Palin is a mere 9 years older than me, that I have to go to a potty training seminar in a couple of weeks, that the same friends I have playdates with now are the ones who I drank myself sick with in college.

Here's the good news. I love being in my 30s leaps and bounds more than my 20s, and so to celebrate another birthday in this decade is a good thing. And while I still might think the word "poop" is funny, I am otherwise proud of all that I've accompished so far. And there's nothing scary about that.

with apologies to the gentlemen who read this blog.

I'm officially old.

Because I'm turning 35 in a couple of weeks, I have to get a baseline mammogram this year.

Happy freakin' Birthday to me.

Yeah, what he said.

Cape Cod, and other adventures

We took Jane on her first vacation last week - we went to Cape Cod with Greg's whole family (on his mother's side). Although Jane really didn't sleep well in her pack and play, it was otherwise a wonderful trip - the weather held, except for some rain during Saturday and Hannah blowing through Saturday night, and we had a lot of nice time to spend at the beach and hanging out on the boardwalk outside our rooms. We stayed in oceanfront rooms at this resort we go to every other year. It's really pretty nice and I just love being at the beach, so anytime I can open my door and look at the ocean, I'm a happy gal.

Greg's mother took over with Jane for a couple of hours a day, so I actually managed to get some time to myself as well, and nothing makes Amanda happier than sitting on the beach with a frozen drink in one hand and a book in the other. I didn't expect to get any Jane-free time so it was an unexpected and awesome bonus.

Jane really enjoyed herself. She had been having herself a cranky-a-thon for the previous week, so I was very apprehensive about the trip. Maybe it was all of the new people, maybe it was the fact that there was another baby there her own age (Greg's cousin had a baby last August), maybe it was all of the opportunity to be outside - I don't really know. All I know is she barely cried (except several times during each night) and always seemed to have something new to explore.

A note: packing for a trip with a baby is a lot like packing for a month-long trip, in the sense that there is barely any room in the car for the actual passengers. Holy hell, did we ever bring a lot of stuff, and I can honestly say, in the end, I don't really think I overpacked. She just needs a lot of shit.

In other news, Jimmy. Ah, Jimmy. I alluded to an adventure we had last night with Jimmy on my Facebook page, and I had intended to blog about it, but honestly, it's just so gross I think that probably no one on earth would really want to read the story. So the short version is: a horrifying thing happened with Jimmy's private parts last night, Greg whisked him off to the emergency vet, the problem essentially resolved itself before he even got there, he waited for two hours, got some antibiotics, and came home. I, on the other hand, was stuck at home, Greg didn't have his cell so I couldn't call him, and I bargained with God for Jimmy's life the whole time (truly, if you had seen what I saw, you would have been fearful for his life too).

He is, in true Jimmy fashion, just fine, after completely freaking us out and costing us a lot of money.

And that's about all I'm going to say about that.

seasons of love, indeed.

It's the end of an era.

Also, read this.

And then this.

This show has meant so much to my theater self. Yesterday I was thinking about how much my life has changed since I first saw it 11 years ago. Deep inside, there's still that 23-year-old who was trying to figure out her life and used RENT as her personal sountrack.

here's the thing.

I'm damn frightened of how much the super-conservatives are starting to embrace Palin. With her anti-gay marriage, pro-guns, anti-choice crazy-mofo agenda, she pretty much stands for everything I don't.

And, no, I don't think it's fair that young Bristol Palin gets the national spotlight thrust upon her during what is most likely the worst time of her life. I can't imagine what it is like for this teenager to have to plaster a smile on her face, and act all "yeah, I totally wanted to get pregnant now and get married now despite the fact that my life has barely begun" when she probably just wants to crawl under the covers and cry.

I don't judge her. Hell, no. Anyone who judges a pregnant teen should stop for a second and realize that there but for the grace of Trojan go most of us...it could happen to anyone, and it does happen to many, and the fact that she's keeping the baby, is, apparently, a choice that she made with her family, according to her mother.

Wait...what was that word? Was it...choice? Huh. So by giving her a choice, you're not saying she's a pro-abortion floozie, throw caution to the wind and let's get knocked up because hey, I can just go to the clinic in the morning and who cares! La dee da! She was just given a choice.

Keep the baby - hard decision. Life-altering decision. Terminate the pregnancy - hard decision. Life-altering decision. Either way you look at it, Bristol Palin - and all young women who find themselves pregnant way before they ever wanted to be - have to grow up fast, and make grown-up decisions that are best left for someone a decade older.

The fact that Palin herself had a baby just a few months ago that has Down Syndrome has further rallied the conservatives. See? She found out the baby had a chromosomal disorder and look - she kept him! Because she's pro-life! And anyone who is put in a situation where they find out during an ultrasound that something is very wrong with their child - a child they may have prayed for and hoped for -shouldn't have a choice to deal with the abnormality by terminating the pregnancy, even if it means the baby won't live outside the womb, or it will live a terribly compromised, painful life! That would be wrong! It's so black and white! Can't you see?

As we all remember, I got blood test results that indicated that there was an elevated risk that Jane had Down Syndrome. And during the three weeks between the test and the ultrasound that reassured us that everything was OK, Greg and I had to make a decision. Do we keep the baby, or terminate? 90% of Down Syndrome babies are terminated, as I read. Didn't matter. It wasn't even an option. We were keeping the baby no matter what.

So who is better? Palin, a Republican who doesn't believe in choice, and kept her baby? Or me, a Democrat who treasures choice, and would have kept her baby? See, pro-choice doesn't always mean pro-abortion. It just means pro-CHOICE. In the eyes of the socially conservative Republicans, Palin's moral ground is much higher than mine. Yet we made the same decision.

It KILLS me that Sarah Palin has a huge chance at being the next VP of our country, and possibly the next President as well. I cannot imagine that this mother does not want to ensure the fact that her daughters are given every opportunity to make the choices they want, and to dictate their own lives.

I'm sorry, but this cracked me up.

weighty matters

It was nine years ago this weekend that I decided it was high time to lose some pudge. During my early-to-mid 20s, I had steadily been putting on weight. I know that everything you read about weight gain comes down to an emotional issue - food as friend, food as comfort, food as religion -whatever. For me, it was -and remains - the fact that I enjoy eating. I find it pleasurable. The things I like to eat the most are total crap for you. The end.

But it was a random day at the beach in the summer of 1999 that I decided enough was enough. I was asked to be a bridesmaid in yet another wedding, and I was sick of being the biggest girl going down the aisle. I gave myself a deadline for the following June to lose 60 pounds. (Yes, I know approx. how much I weighed then, and yes, due to a scale obsession I certainly know how much I weighed at the end, but I'm not giving numbers up, my friends.) I headed to the store, bought a Walkman, a new pair of sneakers, and hit the road.

And, boy, did I ever hit the road. Over the following 10 months, I walked my ass off, literally. I was never much of a runner, but I can power walk with the best of them, and finish a mile faster than some (slow) runners. I walked in hurricanes (seriously), snowstorms, freezing temperatures - yup, I was that asshole that you see out in the pouring rain trotting away. I walked and walked and walked, and restricted my calories like nobody's business - all the while leaving myself free days every week - and made my goal. And then lost 10 more pounds, for a total of 70 pounds lost in just under a year.

I cannot tell you how fabulous it was to have people see me, do a double take, and tell me that they didn't even recognize me. I cannot tell how awesome it was to have that damn bridesmaid dress taken in, then taken in some more, and then some more. I cannot tell you how annoying it was when people accused me of being anorexic, starving myself, binging, and all sorts of eating disorder-like behavior. No, I would say. I've been doing this steadily. You just didn't notice the first 25 pounds that came off.

The hardest part of weight loss, they say, is maintaining. That is definitely right. Once you decide, OK, I've lost enough weight, how do you stop dieting? It was a struggle to figure out what I could eat without putting the weight back on. I managed OK, until a new relationship came along (hi, Greg!). Then all those dinners out and my abandoned exercise routine caught up with me, and I put 20 pounds back on.

I put the brakes on the weight gain pretty quickly though, and walked off 30 pounds, managing to get myself to my lowest known adult weight for my wedding (wedding stress, anyone?). After gaining 10 back (because really, that's where my body should be), I leveled out for a couple of years.

Then came pregnancy. And while at first I looked at it as a free pass to eat whatever the hell I wanted (and could stomach), a combination of the realization that I would ultimately have to lose it and a diagnosis of gestational diabetes put the kibosh on my food frenzy. In fact, I don't think I've ever eaten healthier than I did in the third trimester. And while Jane was a healthy 7 lbs, 3 oz, I had a total of 30 pounds to lose.

This past year has been difficult. I lost the bulk of the baby weight quickly, but I had a remaining six pounds that refused to budge. As I get older, my calorie reduction tricks don't work as well as they used to. My metabolism is shit. I hate/don't have time for exercise. It was a combo of three stomach bugs since December that finally rid me of the final pounds.

I think I will always have self-image issues regarding my weight. It's funny -now I weigh about what I did when I lost all that weight nine years ago, and at the time, I felt so impossibly skinny. And now I sure don't. I want to resolve this kind of thinking so I don't somehow pass along my crappy body image attitude to Jane.

Perhaps I should stop writing this boring post and hit the treadmill? Or maybe I should have a snack.

bright sunshiny day

Today I took the day off of work, sent Jane to daycare, and went to the beach. Alone. It was the best thing I've done for myself in a year.

I used to go to the beach by myself all the time. It's one of my favorite things to do in the summer, but I haven't done it at least two years, three, actually. And I didn't think I'd do it this summer, but I realized last week that I desperately needed a day off - a true day off from everything and everyone - and was able to take today.

It was awesome. I sat there on my blanket, looked at the water (lots of jellyfish today), read nearly an entire book (You've Been Warned by James Patterson), ate some bad-for-you food, watched families play in the sand and water, and got some color. Then I went to downtown Madison, bought a book at R.J. Julia, got an iced mocha, sat on a bench and read some more.

Awesome.

I love the beach. When I was very young, we used to have a boat, and would go out every Sunday. Then later, we used to rent a cottage for a week every summer. It was nothing fancy, but the source of some of my best childhood memories -heading to the beach first thing in the morning with my dad and brother, tromping back to the cottage at lunchtime to eat quickly so we could go back in the water, strolling to the lemon ice stand every afternoon for a treat, buying cheap little trinkets that seemed like gold to a child.

I don't know if it's because I have Jane, but I noticed so many young kids at the beach today. Babies Jane's age too - one 18-month-old decided to come over and stand on my blanket (that was the only conversation I had - I asked her grandmother how old she was (the baby, not the grandmother)). Watching all of the kids having fun made me so excited about the prospect of Jane coming to the beach and loving it as much as I did - and still do. It will be great to see everything from her perspective, where the sign of a great day is a ton of sand stuck in your bathing suit, a sticky face from ice cream, and total exhaustion brought on from hours of sunlight.

from the mailbox!

After my obvious cry for attention on Twitter, I received this email:

There's plenty I don't know about your life right now. Write about going to see Jersey Boys or about your Fabulous Female Friday Funtime you're having tomorrow night. Write about books you've loved or about crying while watching Tori Spelling. Write about what Jane's doing. Is she starting to walk?See? So many interesting things to write about.

OK, dear reader, I will answer your questions.

1) I went to see Jersey Boys last week. However, since that's filed under the topic of "work," I won't talk about it here. But it was fun being in the city, as always, despite the fact we got caught in a torrential downpour in Times Square, saw a man who most definitely didn't have his pants on correctly, and ate lunch at T.G.I. Fridays, embarrassingly enough. What? We were hungry!

2) Books. I read a lot of 'em. I can't think of anything coherent to write about any of them at this moment, so I will tell you that I'm currently reading "Obsession" by Jonathan Kellerman, and I'm finding it quite pleasing, if you are the murder-mystery type. Which I am.

3) My Fabulous Female Friday Funtime is indeed scheduled for tomorrow night, which means, unfortunately, that I can't make it to dear reader's jewelry party. I am going out with my friends Heather and Shelly - two of my oldest and best friends - and this is very exciting and highly unusual, considering, between us, we have five kids (Heather has three of them). So getting out of the house, sans families, is particularly awesome. I'm very much looking forward to this, which is why I'm terrified something will happen to make me have to cancel.

4) Yeah, yeah, the other night I cried while watching "Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood." Yes, this is a Tori Spelling reality show. Yes, I should hate myself for watching it. But, whatever, I became addicted last summer when I was up 24/7 with Jane, and truly, it's kind of a cute show. Anyway, they were showing a memorial service she had when her dog Mimi died, and it was quite sad. It was also quite fancy, with butterflies being released and party favors and what not, but hey, that's Hollywood.

5) Jane is currently sleeping. Other than that, no, she's not walking yet. She pulls herself up and creeps along the furniture, but no walking thus far. And to be honest, I'm not rushing it. I know I will never sit down when she starts walking, not that I do much now, because dang, that girl crawls fast.

She is moving to a bigger kids' room at daycare in September, and they gave me a whole list of new supplies she will need. In this room they will encourage cup use instead of bottle, table food instead of baby food, one nap instead of two (this scares me the most). The whole thing has me very emotional because it's a big change and transition for her, and since she's now firmly in the "stranger anxiety" phase of life, I'm afraid she'll have a tough time. Every day we drop her off at daycare, her face turns red and the big crocodile tears come. So we feel like shit for the rest of the day; meanwhile, she cheers up about four seconds after we walk out the door, according to her teachers.

Have a great weekend!

weekend. update.

I feel as if I've been limping to this weekend - this week has been so work-tastic, and by work-tastic, I mean full-of-work, that it felt like it would never end. In fact, as we speak, I am at home, on my couch, working. What a tool. STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER, AMANDA.

So, here I am, pretending like disaster won't strike and I'm actually going to have a decent weekend. Ha ha ha hahaaaaa......ahem. Anyway.

We are road-tripping it this weekend to Dimitry's house in New Jersey. Dimitry is Greg's old college roomate and although he lives way far away in a whole other state, we still remain friends with him. He recently got married and bought a house and basically abandoned his Manhattan-single-out-all-the-time ways, so I'm excited to see his transformation into a suburban boring married person. You know, like myself.

And since the kid isn't ready to stay home and have parties behind our backs, she's coming with us. Surely, this will be flawless. She will sleep happily in her pack-and-play, leaving her parents to socialize with real, grown-up, adult-type people. She will take naps when she should, eat when she could, not cry, and be utterly charming the whole weekend. She will also have no problem with the several-hours car trip to and fro.

She will also poop hundred dollar bills into her diaper.

Wish us luck!

no readers allowed!

If you're reading this, you know I've now set restrictions on who reads my blog. There is a long story attached to this, and most of you have already heard it. Not getting into it here. Aside from that, I have been thinking for some time about this blog, and the kind of information I put up here. I love reading back on old posts from last year, from when Jane was an infant, but as she gets older, I really have struggled with what kind of information I put about her out there on the interwebs (sorry, Lisa).

I am contemplating taking down this blog and starting a new one. One with less about my kid, and more about...all that other boring stuff I talk about. Which sucks, because I have over two years of scintillating material on here already, and I'd hate to start over new. If I do make that decision, I will of course let you know. Stay tuned.

PS If there is someone you know who reads this god-awful boring blog, let me know and I'll invite them to be a reader.

STAR TREK: THE KLINGTASTIC MUSICAL

Greg and I FINALLY made it to Alan's show last night at HITW. And although we barely got four hours of sleep the night before (after an adventure-filled night on the boat), we really enjoyed ourselves, not only being out on the town alone, sans Jane - imagine, being out with all of these people, none of whom needed me to change their diaper! - but, depite all fears that his show would feature spaceships and aliens and stuff like that, it wasn't very sci-fi at all, and was quite enjoyable. Alan was very good, of course, as was my friend Paul, who was also in the show. As you can see, Jane wishes she went too. Future theater nerd? Or future sci-fi geek?

oh yeah, that show I did

Remember, like, two weeks ago when I did a show? And I was all consumed with it and I was never home and life was crazy? And then I never really updated about it? Well, it went really well - one of the things I love about working with this summer program is the fact that the audiences are filled with past and upcoming summer theater participants, plus family and friends of the cast, so it ends up sounding like a Miley Cyrus concert in the auditorium. You can't buy that kind of appreciation. It turned out to be a very entertaining, energetic show, which is pretty much what we were after in the first place. I miss working with the kids, but I am enjoying having some free time at night again. Anywho, here are some (belated) photos.

my kid is freakin' cool

So, today was one of those truly special days at daycare when Jane only takes one nap. If by "special" I mean "horrible," because that means the countdown to bedtime will be slow, tear-soaked and drama-filled. Indeed, that's how this evening was progressing. I tried to entertain Jane with her toys and books, but she wasn't having it. So I took her on a long walk, during which she fell asleep. Imagine her delight (and mine) when I took her out of her stroller with a half hour to go until bedtime. Sadness! Misery! Wailing! Until....

I have a magic trick. When the shit really hits the fan, I go to my special saved DVR recording that is guaranteed to work. I was afraid that tonight it would fail, because, o, woe was her. But I had to give it a shot. She was crying and generally lamenting her very existence until she heard this blog's favorite Lin-Manuel Miranda kick off In the Heights' Tony performance with "Lights up on Washington Heights up at the break of day...."

She turns and looks at me like, "Holy crap, Mom! Look who's here!" She whips her head back to the TV just to make sure, then looks back at me with a gigantic smile, her legs wiggling, her body bouncing. She's been happy ever since.

Everyone who meets Jane comments how she looks nothing like me, and everything like Greg. And it's true. But she's got some me in her. She's a theater dork in the making.

wipe those tears away

OK, OK, I've been told to stop making everyone cry with my sappy baby posts. There has been a request for dog pics. You want 'em, you got 'em!

My show opens tonight. The last two weeks have been particularly grueling with many nights of rehearsals, stomach bug in the house, shitty vacation, busy at work, blah diddy blah blah blah. The good news is - the show is ready. The BEST news is - Jane's mole was benign. THANK GOD!!

When I have more time, remind me to tell you about the bat that invaded rehearsal on Wednesday night. To recap: July 23, 2007 at 7:27 p.m. I was having Jane. July 23, 2008 at 7:27 p.m. I was ducking from a crazy, swooping bat! Oh, what a year it's been.

If you're looking for my usual snarky posts, please skip this.

When you start thinking to yourself, "hey, I'm in my 30s, maybe it's time to think about having a baby," and you're also a person like me, you do a lot of research. You ask a lot of questions. You read that you won't feel well for a few months, that you'll be tired, that you'll be excited when you see the first ultrasound, that you'll go through a lot of testing, and, oh, hey, it hurts when you go through labor and delivery.

Of course, nothing ACTUALLY prepares you for all of that until you're going through it. You can read "you will experience nausea for approximately 12 weeks, sometimes longer," but you really don't know what that feels like until you're chronically dry-heaving for five months. You don't know how scary it will be when the results of a genetic test aren't what you had hoped for. You don't realize what it feels like to finally exhale when you've seen the little 11-week bean jumping around on a small, fuzzy screen after you think you might have lost her. And, sure, you really can't comprehend what labor pains feel like until your stomach feels like it's being twisted by King Kong. Or Godzilla. Or some other large, and very painful, creature. I still can't comprehend it, because my brain blocked it out for me.

Motherhood is similiar. People often told me, "get your sleep now, because once the baby comes, you never sleep," and I nodded, and smiled, but until last summer, didn't truly know how physically, and more importantly, mentally painful it is to go several months with only a couple (nervous) hours of sleep a night. And to have many, many of those waking hours being spent by holding a shrieking, screaming infant.

I had a co-worker who showed up at work the day her maternity leave ended in tears, because she had left her daughter at daycare for the first time. I felt badly for her, but I thought, "what's the big deal?." Our plan was to do the same - once my 13 weeks of leave were up, Jane was going to daycare. But as the weeks creeped along, I realized that I would have to leave my new appendage with strangers all day. I wanted to be with her. Why did they get to spend the day with her and not me? I would stare at her in her crib, play her mobile music, and cry. The first day we dropped her off was absolutely one of the worst, and gut-wrenching, of my life.

People will tell you you'll worry about your child. I have been worried about my child since she was just a few cells, but it's a whole different ballgame when they're on the "outside." Things that I never noticed before, like people speeding in their cars and fireworks going off at night, became my enemies. Every surface that I looked at I regarded as party central for germs. Every runny nose was sure to turn into pneumonia. Every cry signified something worse than hunger, sleepiness, or teething.

Then there are the more abstract things. Will she have friends when she's in school? Will people make fun of her? How will she handle that? How will I handle that? Will girls basically be dressing like hookers in second grade? Will they be having sex in third? What will she want to do with her life? Will we be friends as adults? Will she move far away?

I was told how busy I would be. How I would not have time for all of the hobbies that ate up so much of my time pre-baby. By the sheer force of my stubborness and with the understanding by Greg that he is also her parent and therefore responsible for some nighttime care, I have been able to prove this one untrue. I do, in fact, still read books. It may take me longer, but I still do it. This week I am finishing up my first show that I've done since she was born. This truly was a difficult task, both scheduling and being away so much, but I did it. Because when Jane does grow up, I want to have some "me" left.

I heard and read many times that the love you have for a child is unmatched. That you will not be able to remember your life before you had a child. It all sounded like a bunch of cliched crap made up by parents who thought they were better than everybody else. Frankly, I really didn't like many other kids. I was worried that I had no maternal instincts inside of me. Besides, who would want to kiss a baby when dogs are so much furrier?

But it's real. (Not the part about being better than everybody, of course.) I would take a bullet for Jane. I would lift a car for Jane. I would drop anything if I thought there was something wrong with Jane. I would absorb her every pain, hurt, and heartbreak if I could. There are things in my life that seemed so monumentally important to me before, and sometimes they still are, but the most important thing, always, is the well-being of Jane. I feel like she's an extension of me - I suppose she is an extension of me - and while I guess I can remember my life before her, I don't want to.

I have never painted a rosy, glowy picture of motherhood. It's hard as hell, doubly harder if you're a working mom. I constantly feel guilty, I always second-guess myself, but one thing I can say is I've always tried to make the right choices for Jane. I may not have always been correct, but I've always tried. I will never (or at least, TRY to never) be one of those parents who try to suck everyone in to the sphere of children. If you choose not to have children, I applaud it. You have to really want it, because your life changes so drastically, and much of it is not fun at all.

I have been a mother for one year today. As I write this, a year ago I was heading to the hospital for an NST that ultimately landed me in a delivery room a few hours later. Tonight, at 7:27 p.m., I will be in a high school auditorium, rehearsing a show. Jane will be in bed, asleep (God willing). Maybe she will be dreaming of the crackers she now feeds herself, and the milk she's now drinking, or all of the new "real people" food she's trying, or how she crawls all over the place. Maybe she'll be dreaming about how she pulls herself up, and how she's probably only a few weeks away from standing and walking. Maybe she'll be dreaming of all of her new friends, and of all of her parents' friends who have been so wonderful with her, and generous to her. Maybe she'll be dreaming about all of the walks we've taken, all the songs we've sung and conversations we've had, all the toys we've played with, of all the plans we've made, of all the little moments in her life that have been so monumental to me.

Happy Birthday, Jane. You are my reason.

ETA: Love the special birthday banner, Lisa! Thank you so much! Jane approves.

all partied out

another opening, another show

Remember way back when I was posting about happy things and I posted that awesome video that [tos] made for In the Heights for their opening night? WELL, of course In the Heights reciprocated for [tos] opening night last night! WATCH IT! AND GO!

wish you were here!

Well...not really. Because if you were here, you'd have to listen to me complain about how I was completely laid out for the past three days with a wicked stomach bug. I should have known something was wrong when I went out for lunch in the park on Friday and fell asleep on a bench. After deciding I didn't want to eat anything. Yeah, those should have been two very strong signals that something was up.

So, welcome to my vacation! I'm doing it up in true Amanda style by being sick and complaining! I'm still not completely recovered yet and haven't eaten anything that isn't strictly a bread-style product since Thursday. And I've lost five pounds! No lie. FIVE! Shane, you know what that means - ONE POUND TO GO!(Until I gain it all back.)

I was supposed to get all sorts of stuff done this weekend. Friday night, I was supposed to go out to dinner with Todd and then go see Alan in STAR TREK: THE KLINGTASTIC MUSICAL, but instead I was in bed by 8. (Oh yeah, did I mention that Jane was sent home from daycare on Friday with a fever? Yeah.) Saturday I was supposed to go out and buy Jane an outfit for her big one-year photo session on Tuesday, and buy birthday presents for Heather's kids who were having a party on Sunday, and a bunch of other stuff...but I didn't do any of that. I will be polite and not tell you what I did do. Yesterday I managed to leave the house to go to Target and buy the birthday presents, and I did haul myself over to the party for a while before going to rehearsal (yes, I am STUPID, but the show is in less than two weeks, people!). But it was a pretty craptacular weekend overall.

And now it's Monday. Today I did go to the mall and get Jane a dress for tomorrow's big shoot (it is AMAZING how hard it is to find a cute, simple white dress this time of year. If I were looking for her winter clothes now, I'd be all set. But summer is SO OVAH, according to every baby clothing store in the region.) Tonight I have rehearsal. I have rehearsal every night this week, as well as next week. In two weeks, the whole show will be a distant memory. It is frightening how much has to be done between now and then. Can't believe how fast this summer is flying by.

Or maybe it just seems to be flying by because I'm in a cold medicine/stomach bug/sleep-deprived haze all the time.

I pray that any further vacation updates are far more, well, vacation-y than this one.

PS Thanks for Lisa for pulling me out of my pity party with that awesome new banner!

I think I heard something about this somewhere

Just go, dammit.

her other mom

Jane's home away from home is the Chickadee room at her daycare. This room is split in half; one side is for babies 6 weeks to 1 year, the other side is for babies and toddlers ages 1 to 2 years. As you know, Jane started daycare when she was 13 weeks old, and just recently moved over to the more grown-up side of the Chickadee room, where I can only imagine they debate politics and the economy all day.

A woman, who I will call ML, is the head teacher of this room. She is probably in her late 40s, and has been working in the daycare biz for a long time. In fact, she and her second in command, who I will call A, have been working together for eight years. A is younger, in her mid-20s. Anyway, ML has been a really great resource to us in this stumbling, bumbling first year of parenthood, and while she surely says this to all of the parents, she claims to us that Jane is her favorite. And I eat it right up. ML has been Jane's main influence, aside from me and Greg, in her 11.5 months of life.

And now she's leaving. As I was dropping Jane off this morning, ML let me know that her last week is next week. And as much as I complain about daycare, having to bring Jane there, how much I wish I was a millionaire so I could stay home all day with her, how she's sick all the time, the hassle, the bills - I got all choked up. My eyes filled with tears and I got a big lump in my throat the second she told me the news. I could tell she was very upset too - she is leaving to take care of some family issues, and she told me how much she was going to miss Jane.

Jane loves ML. Every time I drop her off, she gets a big grin on her face as soon as she sees ML. This morning she was practically lurching out of my arms to go to ML. And sure, she's not old enough to ponder what happened to the nice lady who took care of her every day, but her daily reaction to ML makes me so grateful that ML has so obviously done such a wonderful job taking care of my daughter.

Don't get me wrong, I am happy with all of the primary teachers in Jane's room, and the rumor is that A will take over ML's position, which makes me happy for her. But I guess today I realized how much I depend on knowing that Jane is with people who genuinely care about her well-being. And ML is most definitely one of those people.

things and stuff

You know what annoys me so much? When people don't update their blogs. And when they do, all they do is post a picture or some random You Tube video and then you don't hear from them again for another week. What the hell? Why have a blog in the first place?

Oh. Yeah.

Well, anyway, I'm back! What has happened in the last week? Well, Jane and I are still bogged down with colds, but whatever, that's how we roll these days. Maybe I should rename us, so instead of being Jane And Amanda we can be Snots And Boogers or Phlegm and Nastiness. Those could be our street names or something. Pretty gangsta, if you ask me.

Despite that, we've been busy over here. This past weekend we spent our first night down at the boat. So, um, that was interesting. It involved a lot of crying and not sleeping and general crankiness, and I'm not even talking about Jane. Well, yeah I am, but none of us got much sleep, because as it turns out, the Between the Bridges Marina peeps know how to PARTAY on a Friday night and make a lot of noise until about 2 a.m. These crazy kids and their wacky, loud music.

On Saturday I drove my dirty, tired ass home from the boat to get ready for Beth's wedding and drive right back down Route 9 to Chester. It was a very pretty lovely sparkly love-a-riffic ceremony, and I was so happy to be there. Unfortunately, Lisa couldn't join us for the festivities because she's been struck with the Cold That Would Never Die, but she was there in spirit.

Since then, we've been working on getting things ready for our big Fourth of July fiesta of fun on Friday (oooh, how 'bout all of that alliteration?). I hate cleaning but this gives me a good reason to really scrub, and not half-ass it as usual. Why, just this evening I told Greg I wouldn't die of humiliation if someone walked into our house right now! But then, of course, the dogs dragged their mulch-covered selves in and dirtied things up again.

I've also been working on the big All Shook Up show, coming to a theater near you July 25 and 26! My co-director is off to Ireland for 12 days, so hopefully I won't mangle the show too badly in her absence.

That's all here! Thanks for tuning in for another installment of "This Is My [Boring] Life."

And because Shane said he refuses to see [title of show], here is another installment of the [title of show] show, featuring the very deelicious Cheyenne Jackson!

it's not you, it's me

I've been waiting to be in a good mood to write a nice, cheery blog entry. But dudes, it's, at this point, fifteenth verse, same as the first - Jane has a cold, and now I have it too. I'm so stuffed up right now, and completely miserable, and it triple sucks because it's summer! The time of year everyone told me would be soooo much better, and Jane wouldn't be sick, and blah blah blahhhh....bullshit. I'm running on minus-empty right now.

Anyway, what else is going on? Well, aside from the fact that I've obviously figured out how to post YouTube videos on this here blog, things have been pretty busy over here. We're about halfway through rehearsals for All Shook Up, which is July 25 and 26 - only a month away. Craziness. Jane's 11 monthiversary was yesterday - she's now a crawling maniac and has been pulling herself halfway up, as well as crawling in this weird, ass-in-the-air kind of way that makes me think she's starting to contemplate walking. Or, at the very least, she knows it's an option. We've been planning our Fourth of July party, as well as Jane's FIRST BIRTHDAY EXTRAVAGANZA (I'm trying to make that sound a lot more exciting than it's going to be). And by "planning" I mean obsessing about all of the house and yard work I have to do when I have some energy to get off the couch.

So that's about it. F-ing completely lame, I know. I'm sorry! I will leave you with this highly entertaining episode of the [title of show] show. Hey! Have I mentioned that it's opening on Broadway on July 17 (previews start on July 5)? Anyway, this episode has loads of Broadway cameos, and I strongly suggest that you watch through the credits, because the very end is the most hilarious part.

TOS Countdown

this ought to clear things up

So, I seem to have caused some confusion with my last post. But now it's going to get even more confusinger. You know how I love and claim [title of show] and Beth loves and claims In the Heights and Lin-Manuel Miranda, but how I love and now want to claim ITH and LMM (and how I know Beth will love and want to claim [tos] when she goes to see it, as you all will too)? Well, I think this video shows that [tos] loves INH, and since they are both Broadway shows, maybe they win? We may have been trumped. Nevertheless, it's extremely entertaining.

Tonys

So life has been nuts, but I wanted to let you guys know that along with forcing you all to go see [title of show] this summer (OPENING NEXT MONTH), I am now a big, gooey fan of In the Heights, which awesomely won a bunch of Tony Awards this past weekend, including the Best Musical Tony Award. My friend Beth saw this show last year Off-Broadway and was all like, "yeah, yeah, yeah, I love In the Heights" and I'm all like, "yeah, that's great, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm sure it's good, but I love [title of show] and I own [title of show], so you can have your In the Heights." So despite the fact that I, of course, still love [tos] and can't wait to see it again, I'm jealous that Beth owns In the Heights, and more specifically, its creator and star, Lin-Manuel Miranda, because I kinda want him to be my Broadway boyfriend now. (Sorry Adam Pascal, you had a long run.) But, just like I claimed Mark Ruffalo (who is my Hollywood boyfriend, not my Broadway boyfriend) and [tos], she claimed Lin-Manuel Miranda and In the Heights, so all I can do is post this appearance from the Tonys and hope that if Beth and Lin break up some day, I'll have a shot.

And now, the answers to Alan's Big Birthday Quiz!!!

1) Despite a thorough dislike for the Barenaked Ladies, Alan is Canadian, and, because Jane is 1/someteenth percent French-Canadian, he is her Canadianfather. This is true. Alan is quite proud of his Canadianism, what with his spelling of words like "honour" and "colour" and saying "eh" a lot. Well, that last part isn't true, but I wish it was. And because of the fact that I don't know what French-Canadian really means, he has agreed to guide Jane in the world of all wonderful Canadian things. Which, I personally believe, includes the Barenaked Ladies.

2) Alan is well and truly obsessed with musicals, and, in particular, the musical RENT. Alan despises most musicals, and one that is close to the top of the list is RENT, despite the fact that HE'S NEVER SEEN IT. Does this seem strange to anyone else? He just thinks he won't like it. He only likes a limited few musicals, including Avenue Q, and soon, [title of show].

3) Alan has an unhealthy obsession - nay, hatred - for squirrels. Yeah, this is true, and it's a little weird. He plots against these fluffy intruders in his backyard. A recent post in his blog documents a squirrel doing some sort of ab crunches in his yard. See? Weird.

4) Alan loves birds, and would sit in his backyard and observe them all day if he could. Again, true, and again, weird. But I guess we all have to have hobbies.

5) Alan wears a lab coat to work every day. This is true, and I think it's so cool. Alan is a scientist, and he concocts potions all day. Actually, the potion part may or may not be true, but I like to believe it's true, and he's kind enough to let me believe it.

6) Alan is a huge reality television fan, and would just DIE if he missed Survivor every week. This is not true. Are you starting to wonder how we are even friends? Todd, of ToddandAlan, does watch a lot of reality TV however, so thankfully I have someone to talk to about Survivor, Amazing Race, Biggest Loser, etc, when we all go out.

7) Alan goes to church every Sunday, no ifs, ands or buts about it. This is hilariously not true. In fact, I'm honored - wait - HONOURED - that Alan came to my wedding ceremony in a Catholic church!

8) Alan co-starred with me in one of my all-time favorite theatrical experiences, SCT's production of Love Letters. He is also starring in STAR TREK: THE KLINGTASTIC MUSICAL (aka The Twilight Zone) at Hole in the Wall Theater this summer. All true. Love Letters was such an awesome experience, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. And I can't wait to see Alan in his Spock ears in STTKM (aka TTZ).

9) Alan is my number-one e-mail buddy, and when he goes on vacation (which he and his main squeeze, Todd, do unusually often) I make him send me a postcard because I'm so blue when he's gone. This is true. Alan hears all about the exciting details of my day, including what I had for lunch, what I'm doing that night, what sickness Jane now has. He is a lucky, lucky man. And I do insist upon a postcard, just so I can be even more jealous of all of their vacations. Of course, it should be noted that about 80% of my postcards come from Canada.

10) Alan sometimes wishes he was a little girl, just so he could sing "Tomorrow" in Annie. True. OK, False, but it would be a lot funnier if it were true. Someday when you're at my house, remind me to show you the Annie squirrel that ToddandAlan gave me for my birthday one year.

11) Alan turns the big 4-0 tomorrow! HAPPY (early) BIRTHDAY, ALAN!!!!!! True, and despite the fact that he doesn't really care much about birthdays, I do, and I couldn't let this one go by without a little extra recognition! I hope you have a great day!!

An (early) birthday quiz for Alan's big day!

OK, before we get started, I kept the previous blog post, because it is Jane's official first post. I was typing, she came over and started whacking on the keyboard and somehow managed to publish that post.

Anyway, tomorrow is ALAN'S BIG BIRTHDAY! And to celebrate, here is a little True or False quiz about him. Answers to be revealed tomorrow:

1) Despite a thorough dislike for the Barenaked Ladies, Alan is Canadian, and, because Jane is 1/someteenth percent French-Canadian, he is her Canadianfather.

2) Alan is well and truly obsessed with musicals, and in particular, the musical RENT.

3) Alan has an unhealthy obsession - nay, hatred - for squirrels.

4) Alan loves birds, and would sit in his backyard and observe them all day if he could.

5) Alan wears a lab coat to work every day.

6) Alan is a huge reality television fan, and would just DIE if he missed Survivor every week.

7) Alan goes to church every Sunday, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

8) Alan co-starred with me in one of my all-time favorite theatrical experiences, SCT's production of Love Letters. He is also starring in STAR TREK: THE KLINGTASTIC MUSICAL (aka The Twilight Zone) at Hole in the Wall Theater this summer.

9) Alan is my number-one e-mail buddy, and when he goes on vacation (which he and his main squeeze, Todd, do unusually often) I make him send me a postcard because I'm so blue when he's gone.

10) Alan sometimes wishes he was a little girl, just so he could sing "Tomorrow" in Annie.

11) Alan turns the big 4-0 tomorrow!


HAPPY (early) BIRTHDAY, ALAN!!!!!!

A birthday q6+

mindless fun on a hot summer day

Create your own family sticker graphic at pYzam.com

Jane's first hair cut: before and after

I'm sorry this blog is such a drag, but....

(below is from an email I sent this morning)


Worst night ever last night. Tripped over Jimmy on the way through the front door (I seriously didn't see him, he just got right under my feet), fell w/Jane in car seat, she hit ground hard, seemed OK, called doc, they said to keep an eye on her, she wigged out about an hour later, got ridiculously fussy and weird-acting, called doc again, he sent us to CT Children's Medical Center, after a couple hours there they determined she seemed fine from the fall but did have an ear infection, she threw up all meds they tried to give her, they had to give her butt tylenol (don't ask), we went to 24 hour CVS, WORST PLACE EVER, I swear to God I'm writing a letter about how horrible they were, finally got her home around 9, put her antibiotic in her bottle, she actually took it, and went to bed. Finally sat down at about 10. Not exactly the kickoff to the weekend I wanted. Her mood was pretty good this morning. Suffice to say, no boat today and hopefully we'll be able to get down there tomorrow - but I refuse to make any plans anymore. And the guilt of the whole thing is a magnificent cherry on top of my crap sundae.

losing faith

This disgusts me.

I have worked in Hartford for eight years, and have often laughed at people who think it's a dangerous city.

But apparently looking both ways when you cross the road isn't enough anymore. Oh, and caring about someone who was sent flying through the air after being smashed by a car is passe as well.

I often used the words "enraged" and "outraged" semi-sarcastically, but this time it's for real. WTF, people? Where has the common decency gone?

my friends are cool

I highly recommend that everyone have a friend like Lisa. There's nothing else like checking in on your own blog and being surprised by a new, awesome banner. It rocks.

change of plans

Yesterday was May 30 - opening day for the Sex and the City movie that I have been drooling over for a year. Although I have only been to one (1) movie since Jane was born - the U23D movie - I was sure that I would be there for SATC the first day it opened, cosmo in hand, girl posse in tow.

Instead, I found myself at my friend Ken's wake last night. This was my former co-worker at The Record Journal, a mid-sized daily newspaper I used to write for after I got out of college. I did an internship there for Ken during my final semester, and after subsequently graduating and writing freelance stories and obits for a few months, I got a full-time reporter's gig covering arts and entertainment. And, yes, it was just about as awesome as you can imagine - free concerts, meals at restaurants, all the CDs you could imagine, tickets to shows, you name it - I covered it.

I sat right next to Ken for most of my time there. And when I say "next to," I mean "right next to." Newsrooms are not like the spacious ones you see on TV or in movies, at least not where I worked. It was just clusters of desks shoved together and a constant hum of phones ringing, interviews happening, scanners buzzing, and people talking.

Ken was one of several bosses I had during my time there, and he really was a phenomenal editor. His knowledge of the area we covered was unmatched. He grew up there, and knew everyone and everything about what we observed and recorded every day. I could go on and on, but truly, the thing I'll remember most about Ken is that he was freaking hilarious. He was one of the most sarcastic people I have ever known - a sarcasm mentor, if you will - and we laughed all. the. time. Sure, many times it was at my own expense, but I was constantly getting into trouble back then, and Ken had commentary for it all.

We had about a million inside jokes, many of which were ran through my head over the past several days. And over and over again this week, I found myself shaking my head. I couldn't believe he was gone. And I figured last night at the wake it would all sink in. But I still can't believe it. I really can't.

I know it must seem strange to be mourning someone who I haven't worked with for almost eight years. I did stay in contact with Ken, and most recently saw him about a year ago, he making fun of my ginormous pregnancy belly, and I ranking on him for wearing a tie to work (Ken was not known for his fancy attire) and his new office (with a door!), because he had just received a promotion.

But Ken was the reason I ever became a journalist. He was the reason I ever got paid to write. He taught me so much - a sentiment that was echoed by so many people at the service last night, whether by rookie reporters or the many hockey players that he coached that were in attendance. And by people like me - people who left the business nearly a decade ago but left a bit of herself in that newsroom.

I left the newspaper in late 2000 not because I didn't love it - because I did - and not because I wasn't good at it - because I was. I left because 10 months earlier my father had passed away, and I realized that I couldn't live a 24/7 newspaper life that was required of you if you were a reporter. It was very difficult to make plans, because you didn't know if you would be covering a story. I missed many birthday parties and holidays at the expense of a story. After my father died I knew I didn't want to miss out on another second of my life, so I made the jump. I sold out, as one not-so-close former co-worker put it.

Whenever I visited the newsroom after I left, Ken and I always fell right back into our jokey banter, as if I'd never left. But now he's really gone - and I still think I'll be shaking my head for a long, long time.

sad

I just found out that one of my editors and good friends at my old job in newspaperland died unexpectedly today. I am in real shock over this, because first of all, he was only 49, and second of all, it's totally fucked up, in the sense that whenever you hear about someone you really like dying it's totally fucked up. He was a good editor, a big factor in me becoming a writer who actually got paid for it, a hilarious and extremely sarcastic person, and a fine friend whose desk was squished up against mine for the better part of four years.

Say hi to Betty for me, Ken.

bitch and moan, moan and bitch

Well, this hasn't been my week, for various reasons, some of which I won't get into here, but if you've been on the receiving end of my bitching and moaning, thanks for lending an ear, and listening to me come up with creative new ways to swear and hate on life. And, I'm sure that I don't even have to write the part of this post where I report that Jane went back to daycare this week after our vacation, and wound up with a cold by Wednesday, which has only intensified over the past couple of days, and got me yesterday, rendering me completely energyless (yeah, it's a word. now.) today.

But.

I'm sick of complaining (yeah, you read that right) so let's focus on the good things right now. The weather! Ah, the weather. Finally. We've been waiting for you, lovely summertime temps and rain-free skies. The fact that it's a three day weekend is a great thing too, especially since it's relatively obligation free, until Monday. Which is when I start auditions for the show I'm co-directing this summer. Save the date - All Shook Up will rock the hizzouse at the SHS Fine Arts Center on July 25 and 26. And Alan, although I know you hate musicals, I am coming to see you in STAR TREK - THE KLINGTASTIC MUSICAL, so you have to come see my show. Oh, and speaking of shows, I went to see a pretty good one last night, Saved at Playwrights Horizons off-Broadway. And get this - Neil Patrick Harris was in the audience! And he looks dang good! Oh, and today is Jane's ten monthiversary! And to think, she's only been sick for seven of those ten months!

So I suppose that's about it for now. Pretty optimistic and cheery, coming from someone who got less than three hours of sleep last night and can't really breathe that well, huh?