Weekendy bits

The weekend was good.

I tried and failed to find jeans that fit me the way I think they should fit me. We had our taxes done. There was cheesy dip and Gymboree. Long naps for small people and one big person (see below). A wonky contact that continues to haunt me. Book club and fried zuchinni. A holy grail-type search for twelve month jammies that have snaps and aren't tissue thin. Some PMS. A chocolate pie. Texting with Red Door about how we should be sister wives. A lunch date with the Husband. All good times.



Sunday morning Ezra hopped up into Iris' chair to feed his baby bear the way we rock and feed Iris, complete with Boppy.







Playing in the curtains. Stage right, Iris is nudie on her changing table and waiting for me to stop dinking around with the camera and get some clothes on her.



Transfixed by Yo Gabba Gabba.






Ooookay, then.







Hammy thigh!

Do overs and babies and waffling

Ever since the Sneak Attack Delivery of '09, I have had...complicated feelings about adding to our family. Strongly and easily decisive about 99% of the things in my life, this has been the biggest conundrum for my heart and my head and my husband.

Days after Iris and Noah were born, I was ready to be pregnant again. No matter that I couldn't even laugh with feeling like ice picks were stabbing my hurty uterus, I wanted a DO OVER. And, yes, it was always in bold and always in all caps in my head. I felt so robbed and pimped and short-changed and angry and well...do over. Let's get a baby in here and set the record straight on how it's all supposed to go down. Because this?--hands gesturing wildly to the NICU horror--not so much, fools.

Then my hormones calmed the eff down, I went back to work, Iris stayed at the hospital, our life was nutty trying to balance it all--and yet, still I wasn't sure. My heart still wanted that do-over. I still pictured us having three kids living in our house.

Then Iris had her heart repair, Ezra turned 2 and mega-sassy pants, I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel for her hospital stay and I thought--hells no. Can I get a tubal ligation up in here? I just can't handle anymore unknowns. And based on how the last pregnancy went down, I'm pretty sure Hot Mess is on the spine of my file at the doctor's office. Nine months of fear and fear and FEEEEAR?--no, thank you. The geneticists gave us super small percentages for a recurrence of Iris' congenital issues in future children, and yet the thought of having another baby with a squirrely heart makes me need to breathe into a paperbag.

Then Iris came home and ate at 4:00am which made me sleepy and weepy (emphasis on weepy), she also decided naps are for babies and she, sir, was No Baby, Ezra became more active, money started funneling out of our accounts for daycare centers and nannies at a v. alarming rate and I thought again of getting my tubes tied. This time enough so that I made T mute and pause the tv (a definite sign that things are about to get serious) one evening and told him, "I am done. I don't think I can do it again. Say the word, and I'll call Dr. A to schedule the biznass." T seemed unsure and needed some time to think about it. That was cool.

That last conversation took place earlier this fall and since then I have started waffling. Is it because Iris no longer wakes up at night and I have resumed my regularly scheduled sleeping routine that keep me sane and less prone to nighttime crying?--perhaps. Is it because we are in a groove at home and maaayyybe another small person would be fabulous added into it?--maybe. And while I have donated all of my pregnancy clothes and continue to give away clothes and baby items that Ezra and Iris no longer need, my heart and head are not quite 100% on the No More Kidlets.

I will be 36 later this year and T soon in his mid-40s. We are not spring chickens. I also know that without a shadow of a doubt that we would not seek out the help of our RE, Dr. Eccentricbutfreakishlysmart. I do not fault him for how things went down the last time, but T and I don't want to venture down that road again.

T and I mulled it over and came up with a plan for this year that we both feel awesomely comfortable with. And if the timeline comes to an end with me not being knocked-up, then we feel confident that is what is supposed to Be for our family.

This feels good.

Currently

Lovingly heisted from Britt at Fluent British.


Reading: My Allure magazine over lunch and "Cleopatra" at bedtime

Looking forward to: Wearing springy skirts

Stressing about: What the results of Iris' feeding evaluation will be

Craving: Doughnuts, specifically a longjohn with custard (not whipped creme)

Wanting: A date night or afternoon or 30 minutes with the husband

Proud of myself for: Remembering things...as long as they're written down

Wearing: An awful lot of brown and worrying I look like a big poo

Avoiding: That doughnut listed above, battles with my son over vegetables and thinking about flight disasters

Sick of: Paying bills

Learning: How to be more patient and less rigid with Ezra in the morning

Suffering from: The desire to pay $4.00 for a cup of coffee every single day

Struggling with: The fact that we haven't been to church in over two months

Overcoming: The desire to talk constant smack about someone I work with

Hoping to: Shave my legs in the near future, but this is looking more and more doubtful

Excited for: Hugging my little boy at the end of the day

Relieved by: A plan for future kids that T and I had a ComeToJesus about last week

Splurging on: Weekly manicures in order to keep my nails from looking gnarly and nibbled on


****

And you?

Love/hate Monday

Love: Working on a new project for work that (I think) will decrease the likelihood of being stoned by students

Hate: In order to use it this term, I and a co-worker need to complete it by next week which will be tiiiiight

Love: Leftover cheesy potatoes waiting for me at home

Hate: T, however, is not waiting with those cheesy potatoes due to traveling for work all week

Love: I can watch my DVRed fabulousness with minimal hassle

Hate: I am wearing pants with sailor-like buttons that are time intensive to unbutton and I have to pee really badly

Love: Picking Ezra up on Mondays--he's always so excited to see me, although, it does feel a little passive aggressive when he says, "Mama! You came back!" (Just kidding about that passive aggressive comment. He's not that manipulative. Yet.)

Hate: I miss Iris on Mondays too.

Love: I passed up some ridiculously lovely German chocolate cake with thick ass frosting at lunch. My self-control at 1:08pm is still astounding to me.

Hate: See above re: passing up cake and keeping my own ass from becoming more thick

Love: Reading "Cleopatra" by Stacy Schiff for book club

Hate: Many if you were part of the Ptolemies. You probably had to marry your sister or mom and then kill her. It was rough for that crew back in the day.

Love: Spellcheck


What are you loving/hating today?

That's the plan, Stan

This morning I met with the director of Ezra's daycare to talk about Iris and a possible springtime start date.

When I set the meeting up with her I was all kinds of nervous. Would I say the right things about Iris' needs and abilities? How could I, in thirty minutes, convey all that I felt about Iris' care and our regard for that daycare facility? It wasn't so much a stresser, per se, but more like I had a furball of thoughts and feelings wadded up in my brain and wanted to be able to articulate it all without it sounding like I'd just had a stroke.

T and I talked. I mulled it over. I made a bullet-type list. I prayed about it. I reminded myself to talk slow because when I get worked up or have a lot to say I talk Weird.

But it went marvelously! Like, Better than Marvelous!

The director said that they couldn't wait to have Iris start and that as a staff they are in such awe of how well she's doing. She would be more than willing to have her staff trained in how to care for and use and feed Iris via her g-tube. We can have both a slot in the infant room and a slot in the toddler room and then can see where Iris fits best. Iris can even start in one and if it's not a good fit, move to the other. And, oh, would the teachers need to be mindful about keeping sick friends away from her?

Jeez louise, I sort of want to cry right now with the wonder of it all. Every worry I had about Iris in daycare has been completely and awesomely put to bed. Every.single.one.

Our plan then is to look at where Iris is mobility-wise come mid-March and choose a classroom for her based on that (our OT and PT people agree with this as well). Then in later April over the course of a few weeks, Iris will gradually spend an hour here and hour there at the school, going full-time in early May.

As happy as all of this makes my heart, there is the sadness of saying goodbye to J the Fabulous Nanny. The only blessing is that she is my brother's girlfriend-probably-soon-fiancee, so she's mostly part of our family already. But still. It makes me sad. I guess we knew this day would eventually come? Sigh.

Overall, though, Awesomeness (with a small side of Sad Heart).

Paging Mr. Krab

A host of things are making me crabby today plus I'm wearing pants that fit me like they fit the guy below, which is to say, not good.

Complete with black belt.

That is all.

Worked into a springy froth

I made the very unwise decision of: a) not only opening the new springtime catalog Boden sent me this weekend but also b) tabbing certain things that caught my eye. Unwise on many levels but mostly because it will be another five months before such things can be worn (but convincing T that a 118.00 tunic is a Need may take this long).

I also went to Old Navy's website to look at jeans, specifically the Flirt line because word out on the TPTP street is that these fit like a mutha. But! Old Navy has spring things out too! Balls.

So because I am feeling squirrely at work and don't want to do anything, below is a photo montage of things I want.

Brown like me

It first happened a few weeks ago.

The daycare center that Ezra goes too is on the second floor (with its own card-access stairwell and elevator, which is nice) of a building that is also home to a large work-out facility. This facility has its own drop-off child care for parents who are exercising.

As we were leaving one evening, Ezra saw a little African-American baby through the window of the drop-off child care room.

"Look, Mama! A baby Effra! He's cuuuuttte!" (he can't say the Z in his name, so it comes out like this).

"He is cute! And he does kind of look like you did when you were a baby."

I'll admit, this kind of surprised me. Mainly because I don't think any child is as cute as Ezra was when he was a baby (minus Iris, of course, but coming in a close second is Louis, Sandra Bullock's baby because holy snakes, I could eat that baby on toast he is so cute), but mostly because it surprised that Ezra saw this baby's color as similar to his. Kids are not colorblind.

It happened again this weekend while Ezra, my dad and I were eating lunch at Noodles.

A super stylish African-American couple sat down a few tables away and Ezra started smiling at them. They smiled back and waved. He waved back. He shouted, "Hi, GUYS!" They laughed. I tried to turn is attention back to Wisconsin Mac and Cheese.

"They're brown like me!"

"They sure are, baby."

I mentioned to my dad that this is interesting and surprising to hear him say and my dad chalked it up to Ezra being old enough to notice differences and similarities of all kinds--skin color, height, coats, glasses, etc.

I think I find it most surprising because I naively assumed that because skin color doesn't matter to T and I, that it wouldn't be something Ezra notices. Well, not mattering isn't the same as not noticing. Durr.

And it will be clearly something he notices more of come this summer when he sees his mother's lily white/pasty skin in a swimming suit versus his own and his sister's.

Sassy pants

While I wouldn't go so far as to say that my outifts are improving, they have at least been made public for ridicule and/or reassuring comments such as when I stand on a toilet to get a proper pic.

Perhaps you check things out and post a picture for one day (or twelve):

The Put Together Project

Hold onto your chinos, but Janet and I thought perhaps a challenge might spice things up a bit, so here is your weekly challenge:

Take a non-seasonal item and work it into the weekly winter staples.

Now go forth and dress yourself snazzy.

Public assistance for unicorn dust

So.

Something that a few knowledgeable readers pointed out is that it is possible to get Iris' formula through WIC. She qualifies because of her super low birth weight; our household income not taken into account. T and I have known this since Iris came home--shoot, we even had an appointment made for us by the discharge nurse to meet with a case manager about it--but we decided back in June to forego taking advantage of this option.

It's complicated how I feel about it but to put it simply, I guess it's this: We can afford the formula so it's okay for us to pay for it.

I guess in some way, I feel like if I took advantage of a program or resource that we didn't really need ("need" here being based purely on the availability of financial resources), then perhaps someone else may not have full opportunity to use the resource.

Will Iris be drinking the unicorn dust forever? No. Are we struggling because she needs it? No. Am I woman obsessed with finding a good deal on it? Yes. But I'm like that with organic milk, tights and laundry detergent. Add in a hearty dose of Pride with that fiendish sale searching and that's where I'm coming from--just not necessarily saying it makes sense.

Photo randomness

A handful of pictures that make my heart really happy.

Specifically today

You all rock steady

So!

I totally emailed the professors and said, in more professional lingo, "I've emailed you. I have not heard back. Perhaps you give me a shout-out otherwise I won't be there."

Blammo.

Received an email today saying that I was in there like swimwear for Thursday. And an apology. Holla.

So that's over with, but! I have another! (See what happens? Just like at work, you prove yourself capable only to get...more work.) And at the risk of looking like someone who is feeble-minded and can't make her own decisions, here is the situation:

Formula. We spend a lot on it. Last week I totally scored an awesome deal on Walgreen's website. Went back to re-order, aaaaannnnd negatory. Price was double and closer to what it is at most stores. Balls. I think they heard my heart rejoicing.

Anyway, after a hot tip on the preemie message board, I totally typed "formula" into my area's Craigslist board. I was met with lots of racing paraphernalia but also a lot of people selling baby formula that was either sent to them from the formula companies or new cans purchased excessively and now their child is on milk or whatever.

One of the listings is for the Neosure powder/gold and unicorn horn dust Iris chugs. Five unopened cans of it! For 50% cheaper than in the store!

So, do I:

Buy it? Because, hello, cost savings. Five cans of formula will last about six days. Buying it, though, means I'll have to drive out 30 minutes out of town to pick it up and what if they're creepy or want to talk?

or,

Not buy it because that would be like buying someone's underwear on Craigslist and what kind of Creepy Pete does that?

Advice sought

I need some help.

The situation:

As librarian at a law school, one of my job responsibilities is to go into a variety--but not all--of classes and show the students where and how to do legal research based on a particular fact pattern or topic or assignment. It's rarely interesting and this is so very often illustrated on the students' faces. However, we--and most of the faculty--feel it's valuable because, Mr./Ms. Student, that research doesn't do itself once you leave school and that partner won't give you 12 weeks like law school did to complete it. Just sayin'.

Anyway, the librarians contact the faculty weeks in advance to arrange a date and time for these sessions based on their syllabus and confirm the location. Faculty response rates range from Timely to Nevah. The librarians feelings about this range from Professional Appreciation to Stabby.

I am currently at Stabby with a side of You Can Potentially Suck It.

This week I have a class for which I have spent copious amounts of time preparing for, changed my normal work schedule to accommodate and made the appropriate arrangements for at home. And yet I have not yet heard from either professor (team-teaching) teaching the class confirming either their general interest in having me speak to their students or the date/time. I made the arrangements based on the fact that the library session for this particular class is generally held in Week 2 and here we are in Week 2--and yet nothing. Just email and phone call silence.

And, oh yes, they've read my email. The little envelope in my "Sent" box is open, about 3 weeks of open.

Another tidbit...one of the professors is a partner at a large firm in town. As heard from other librarians who have taught for her before, this woman is haughty and full of general condescension for others. Good times.

My dilemma is that I do not want to be taken advantage of and seen as someone whose time is not important yet I want to respect my job responsibilities.

Incidentally, my boss is not...uh...great in terms of providing professional guidance in instances like these.

So, do I:

Show up to the class without confirmation but ready to go? Seemingly sending the message that it is okay to not respond to one's email and that while responsible, librarians are okay with some general professional disrespect?

or,

Do not show up and face potential pissiness on their behalf but have in my pocket the fact that they never contacted me and hope that perhaps this was a "teaching moment" for them in learning that my/my co-workers time is important too?

A sunny Sunday afternoon

Random useless tidbits

Last night I had a dream that the apartment I lived in with all of my aunts and uncles was too crowded, so I went across the hall to P. Diddy's apartment. P. Diddy was used to catering to women at his house (ahem), so I was instantly given a cozy robe and tray of fabulous sample-size products to use (Kiehl's!) while I got ready.

Then upon getting ready and looking in the mirror...I turned black. Like, African-American. And had fabulous hair kind of like this and instantly felt more sassy and confident.

Yeah, I don't know.

But I really hope Iris' hair looks like that because I COVET that hair. At our wedding, one of T's sisters had hair like that and I couldn't stop staring at it. I wanted it.

****

Speaking of hair, T and I watched "Good Hair" on HBO a few weeks ago and I loved it. I recommend.

****

In a moment of self-awareness this weekend, I realized that I really want to be pregnant again but don't really want another newborn.

****

I made a brisket this week and it not only made me think of MFA Mama, but I physically patted myself on the back because that mofo was good.

****

Ezra and I were both sick yesterday. I was sick enough that I had zero patience for any and all toddler b.s., had the chills, cried to T while covered up with blankets at 6:45am because this is the week of all weeks at work that I really just cannot be sick and didn't eat or shower until 10:00pm.

Both Ezra and I are feeling better today and I did not cry this morning. Win!

****

Iris is in some 12 months clothes. She grows almost out of everything length-wise first. Then arms. Then waist. Jammies are always the first to go.

****

I really don't understand how it is that my family creates so much laundry. I do almost a load every day. I'm not obsessive about towels and sheets. Iris doesn't hork on stuff and Ezra rarely back-craps his clothes. And yet...so.much.washing and folding.

It's like loaves and fishes up in here.

****

Back to my work week, if there is a Week to Dread--this would be it. I am working three late nights plus another weekend. Teaching three classes for three new professors. One of those classes is for two, team-teaching professors that haven't even gotten back to me to confirm the date/time which is causing me to consider them complete d-bags.

****

I still read a preemie message board because I often find a useful tidbit or resource. What I've been bombarded with lately is how many posts are stating their children are in lockdown due to RSV; simply not going anywhere at all unless it is to doctors appointments.

RSV is no joke and highly contagious and will clean the clock of a healthy baby with fabulous lungs. Ezra got it when he was nine months old and I've never heard the little guy wheeze like that. It was scary and instantly landed him on a nebulizer. For Iris and her scarred and damaged lungs?--most certainly the hospital and possibly intubation, if bad enough.

The thing is, though, we're not in lockdown. Iris goes everywhere--Target, the library, daycare to drop-off Ezra, Gymboree, restaurants, the grocery store, etc. Unless it interferes with food or naptime, she'll go pretty much anywhere with us (minus the children's museum yet because, holy petri dish, Batman).

She's gotten her fair share of germ exposure from Ezra and had a few head colds without horrible results or need for oxygen (plus one wicked tummy bug and bout with diarrhea from which I still have vivid flashbacks). She also gets the Synagis vaccine. It's possible these two things are making me feel big for my britches or we've been extraordinarily blessed with how Iris' lungs are slowly but surely healing. I don't know.

I also kind of want to tell these moms that as precarious as Iris still might be considered by some, (them as a community? some of her doctors? me on any given day?)--so far, so good. And we're a bit sane because we leave the house and Iris gets to meet people.

****


Check out Jenn's home theater--complete with concession stand and boxes of candy. I read about it this morning and am still coveting it.

****


Do you have any Sunday randomness going down?

The Put Together Project.

It is about this time of year that I start to get more than a little squirrely about my outfits. It's a sauna in my office. It's freezing outside. It's even colder at the Reference Desk where I work throughout the day. Plus I wrangle small fries in the morning so anything super pinchy or contentious cannot be handled for long. I also try my darnedest to pick out my clothes the night before but I'm going about 50/50 on this currently. I mostly wish someone would come to my closet and give me fresh eyes to what I know I already own.

Anyway, the ever stylish Janet from Love is Blonde suggested that maybe together with a bunch of you we do a "Hey! Look what I put together this morning! Show me what you've got!" That way we all can get through the winter with some style and some new ideas. I expect on my end for there to be some hits and some misses and some repeat ups, downs and middles. But I am hoping to get some inspiration from you all especially given that, like Janet, you have a bit of flare that my traditional soul sometimes lacks.

The lowdown on how The Put Together Project works:

• Spend a few extra minutes looking “put together” in the morning. For me that seems to be involving a better night time evaluation of what I want to wear the next day.
• Snap a photo and upload it to the flickr group.
• Get inspired by fellow participants’ outfits, leave comments/notes for others and have fun getting through these dreadful winter months together.

Group guidelines:

• No pressure to be exceptionally fashionable; keep it real
• No negativity about yourself or others
• Post when you can; doesn't have to be every day
• No need to go shopping or spend money on new items - use what's in your closet in new ways, or dig up stuff you haven't worn in awhile
• Open to all: bloggers, tweeters and friends. Sign up for a free flickr account--you can use your existing Gmail account even--and join the group.

Logistical details:

• The easiest way to participate is on flickr, but feel free to blog or tweet your outfit if you prefer.
• Use the twitter hashtag #TPTP to discuss the project and share links/pics on Twitter.
• We're shooting for one full month of Put Togetherness, which gets us to February 7.
• See Janet for html buttons you can snagglepuss.

Again, no pressure. Use The Put Together Project to give you ideas or a chance to pat your friend on the back for looking extra snazzy on a Tuesday. That's easy enough, right? Join us!

Because, shoot, even stretchy pants can look sassy.

Love/hate Thursday

Love: Starbucks has $2.00 artisan sandwiches until January 10.

Hate: I don't really neeeeed a bacon sandwich from now until Sunday. Or do I?

Love: My son's patience last night while I wrangled with Iris.

Hate (kinda): We officially ventured into CIO-territory with Iris last night. It was ideal in that I knew she was perfectly fine and old enough to try it, just simply the hottest of messes from being a crap-napper all day AND T wasn't home (he is the The Parent that wrings his hands over crying it out).

Love: It worked in under 10 minutes. I can't imagine having it go on for hours like it does for some small fries.

Hate: It wore me the eff out.

Love: A fun project with Janet that I'm going to post about tomorrow.

Hate: This morning I helped a library patron that repeatedly spit in my general direction while talking.

Love: An approval was given for us to hire a new part-time person. Let them get spit on instead of me.

Hate: Missing lunch with my friend A. We were going to go to a place called "Fat Boy."

Love: I was a woman possessed last week about finding a better price for Iris' crazy-ass expensive preemie (Neosure) formula. Long and probably very-boring story-short, I found the usually more expensive ready-to-feed formula for cheaper than the powder stuff online at Walgreens.com. Who knew? I now order a six pack case of the stuff every few days.

Hate: That I just wrote multiple sentences about expensive formula. But, I still get a chill over the deal discovered. So, whatevs. This is my life now.

Love: That after almost every gift opened at Christmas, Ezra would exclaim, "Thanks, guys! I LOVE IT!"


Are you loving or hating anything in particular?

"Don't hassle me. I'm local."

Below you will bear witness to quite possibly the only photos that exist of just me and my children. Photos where we all have pants on, are doing something mellow and without whining and where everyone's eyes are not closed due to a flash.

Quite possibly the BEST EXPRESSION EVER.

After that, Iris was whisked off to bed.

The book we were reading is this one. J the Fabulous Nanny picked it out at the library and it's heartwarming and beautifully illustrated and involves a bear named Ben who makes pizza and a little boy and his grandma. I recommend.

One other thing: have any of you ever given your super small children...haircuts? Iris is starting to look (identified courtesy of my brother) like Bob Wylie. Long on top, long around the bottom. It's hoopty in a cute baby kind of way with her little curls and whatnot but both T and I are starting to think it should be trimmed up a bit. I don't know. Thoughts?

Billy Baldwin is still acting?

So I totally watched the Craigslist Killer last night on Lifetime. Of course, I'm a total pansy and had to TURN THE CHANNEL because I got freaked out and nervous tummy for the girls when Creepy Baseball Hat Med Student Man showed up. I mean, who meets a strange man at a hotel room? Who? Girls who get chopped up and put into garbage bags that's who.

Side note: this apparent fear of being chopped up is a testament to my mother who, while not necessarily filling my head with scary stories while young, did throw at me repeatedly, "Make smart choices!" every time I left the house. And while I managed to make plenty of unwise decisions in college (so, so many) I am not in a garbage bag. So success there, I guess.

Anyway.

So while my biggest fear was, "Why are you inviting a strange man to a hotel room, missy?" I perhaps should've wondered, "Why with the erotic services ad?" I mean the one girl looked kind of legit and had a real massage table and had clothes on, and maybe she just advertised under the wrong column on Craigslist, you know? It happens. I once totally listed something under "Health and Beauty" when it should've been under "Sporting Goods." A gal makes mistakes. But then this one didn't out so well. She got shot (thumbs down) while my mistake still sold some junk out of my basement (thumbs up).

But speaking of junk, I think in one scene Creepy Craigslist Man totally took a pic of his junk and sent it to some gal (although, I was only half paying attention at this point because T was giving me hassle about what I was watching so this may not be what was happening in the scene). Originating at the beginning of time and perhaps culminating with Brett Favre, there seems to be a male-based perception that junk viewing is Hot. And a Turn-on. It isn't. I told T that male bits are merely a bizarre-o collection of odd-shaped things and in no way should he ever think that viewing it in the daytime, by strangers and familiar people alike, is a great thing. He rolled his eyes in response. Whatever.

I also kept thinking that I wonder if the dad of the fiancee (Megan?) toooootally knew Markoff was a Creepy Pete. I mean, sure at the beginning he was wooed by a shared interest in golf but perhaps his gut told him that this guy was too good to be true. Now T is fabulous and lovely and has manners and a jolly laugh, but he's not perfect; a guy's gotta have flaws. They just can't be the trolling for tail while engaged and pistol whipping people-kinda flaws.

One last thing to get off my chest, so Legit-Appearing Massage girl completely fought back. Scratched and kicked and flailed (I would've tried biting...biting seems to work) and screamed. Basically, she followed every tip (minus the "No Strange Men in Hotel Rooms" tip) for self-defense. BUT! She was the one who was killed! The girl who merely layed on the floor and allowed herself to be tied up and have her undies and ATM card snagglepussed?--she lived! These are total mixed messages. Aren't we, as women, told to fight back! don't get in the car! run! I'm now confused.

It's not often that in the span of a few weeks I'm affected by both a movie (Black Swan) and a made for tv movie (Craigslist Killer), but it's a full life I lead.

Funky town + help needed

I have been in a funk that I think is associated with a host of things. I'm not sure how to shake it.

That is all.

Okay, now I need your help. Let me just say that while finally fitting into clothes pre-Shot Up to Hell and Back with Fertility Drugs, I am by no means "fit." I am thinner but not fitter.

Post-Ezra, I started running again and used a trainer at our gym and did Weight Watchers and got back to an acceptable weight pre-Noah and Iris. Then I was promptly knocked up (and by "promptly," I mean within two weeks of hitting that ideal weight) and hyperstimulating from all of the drugs and with twins and high risk and, well, you know the rest. There wasn't much time or energy or wherewithal to workout. And, well, here we are a year and half later since I've last worked out.

I am starting to feel the desire to workout. We have a good routine--sleep and otherwise--at home so I don't feel like things are topsy-turvy and need my physical or emotional energies there. What we are at home is Busy. I don't feel like I have a perfect window of time to work-out. All of my windows are full with washing undies and grocery shopping.

This is where I would like your help. Below is an average weekday for T and I. Do you see any slots? How have you made it work? Do I just need to freakin' suck it up and move something to the side? Is 35 and squishy okay? Are two piece bathing suits in my yesteryears?

Weekday:

5:45am-8:15am:
Wake-up; get myself ready; pick-up the house a little; do a little dinner preparation; start laundry; get Iris up, dressed and fed; get Ezra up and dressed; talk to J the Fabulous Nanny; leave for work

8:15am-9:00am:
drop Ezra off and get him settled; get a coffee; get into work

9:00am-5:00pm:
work

5:00pm-5:30pm:
pick up Ezra and speedracer home

5:30pm-6:00pm
dinner for Ezra; kisses for Iris

6:00pm-6:30pm
bedtime for Iris; playtime with Ezra

6:30pm-7:30pm
playtime, bath and bed for Ezra

7:30pm-9:30pm
eat dinner and chat with T; fold laundry; pay bills; put crap (literally and figuratively) away; go to bed

Weekends offer a tidgy bit of wiggle room in the morning and evening in that I don't have to wake up at 5:30am and T is usually home in the evening and not traveling which means I could bolt to the gym after dinner or Iris' bedtime. But...that's when I'm bone-crushingly tired.

So, again, how do you fit in this physical fitness-business? Or do you just say scrap it and bless your good genes?