Houston, we have achieved meltdown.

I should have known what was coming when we were on the way home from the dollar store.

Grace's school Christmas program was last night, and we stopped at the dollar store on the way home from school to get a "beautiful jewel" to pin on her dress. We were doing this because the dress that Grandma bought her - which has a "beautiful" rhinestone jewel on the front - is too big to wear this Christmas. So we settled on adding a pin to this year's dress.



Note the Christmas tree pin. Snazzy, no?

As we drove home we discussed the program and who would be coming. And that's when the tears started. She was heartbroken that my mom (AKA Grandma Muti) couldn't come. It's not like this was a surprise. She's known for weeks that Muti wasn't going to be there, but somehow it became a life crisis. I really didn't know what to say because, frankly, I was kind of relieved she couldn't come. My dad and step-mom were coming and those two groups don't really mix. But promises of videotaping the show didn't help. Calling Grandma Muti didn't help - in fact, Grace wouldn't even get on the phone.

I decided a long bath would help and threw her in the tub as soon as we got home.

The bath worked. The show was cuteness to the 15th power.


That's Grace in the front row, red dress on the right.

We traipsed out to the car with our somewhat large entourage of grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles and Grace insisted I sit in the middle in the back. I did. She insisted on clinging to my arm, which was stretched across her body, and whining, "I waaaannnt you," all the way home.

I had to work very hard not to lose my temper. For one thing, I hate whining. It is my absolute number one pet parenting peeve. For another, she was clinging to my arm like a guy who just picked up the very last Wii at BestBuy, yet was still going on about "wanting me." Also, Grace likes to repeat herself. So I got to hear her tragic plea at least 8 times.

But on the other hand, I felt for her. It was bedtime. The energy that had been spiraling upward in a slow-growing frenzy of holiday excitement had reached its apex on the stage, and all she really wanted was a snack and sleep. Truthfully, I felt the exact same way.

It's like this every year. The energy builds, the excitement grows, the lack of sleep and change in routine weaken one's defenses and general good will, and then.... the crash.

But somehow I think this process is a strangely essential part of the whole Christmas experience. The mild sense of being disoriented and over-tired makes it really easy to believe in magic. And that's what Christmas should be. Magic.

Have a wonderful holiday, be safe on New Year's and nap whenever you get the chance in the next few days.

When it's 3:45 am and your baby is calling "mommy, mommy, mommy" in a loud, yet disoriented, voice, and you have to force yourself out from under your deliciously warm blankets for the third night in a row remember:

It's good to be loved.

At 6:18 pm, when everyone is hungry - including you - and your children are literally hanging on your legs and your dogs are wagging their tails eagerly awaiting their own dinner (and even the cat is meowing at you in a very demanding manner) remember:

It's good to be loved.

When you are attempting to go to the bathroom all by yourself, but your littlest one insists on actually sitting on your lap while you poop remember:

It's good to be loved.

When all you want is to stretch out on your belly and hang your arm off the side of the bed, but your husband wants to snuggle up like spoons, even though he will fall asleep before you and give you a heat stroke remember:

It's good to be loved.

When you're just trying to watch a movie and your child headbutts you in the mouth, splitting open both your upper and lower lips, but all they're really trying to do is settle in more comfortably on your lap remember:

It's good to be loved.

When you're trying to go out to dinner and you're leaving your children with a babysitter they adore, yet they still get weepy and beg you not to leave, and pull on your arm and insist on giving you a hug with hands enrobed in ranch dressing remember:

It's good to be loved.

When you are exhausted from a long day doing two jobs that you love and you walk into your childrens' bedrooms for one last kiss of their soft, sweet cheeks and one final covering with the blanket, and you know that you are blessed beyond measure by your strong, healthy, funny, happy children remember:

It's good to be loved.

The working mom's party invitation.

You know how you find those party invitations in your kid's backpack? The cute ones in envelopes that are hand-written? Or the ones created on the computer on party-themed laser-friendly paper?

I have done both of those myself. I probably will again, but only the handwritten ones because I'm not that crazy about using my computer at home.

But here is the best party invitation I've ever received, from a good friend and fellow working mom.



Seriously... PowerPoint? Wish I'd thought of it.

On the road again.

One of the great things about my job is that I don't have to do a lot of overnight travel. When I do have to travel overnight I luxuriate in the perfectly organized quiet of my hotel room. I browse the on-demand movies and weigh the benefits of choosing my own movie against the glory of an evening spent reading without interruption.

But that kind of travel doesn't come up very often and, truthfully, I'm glad. Because usually I spend about 10 minutes on the aforementioned luxuriating, and the rest of the time I'm either conking out at 9:30 in front of Law & Order or wondering what to do with no one to tuck into bed but myself.

I do, however, do a fair amount of day travel. What I love about day travel is that I get to have some of the good stuff about traveling and still sleep in my own bed. I might get a great lunch. I can listen to a book on tape while I drive. I get a dose of the juice that comes from a great presentation or an exciting new project discussion, and then get myself on home. And if I'm really lucky I get home AFTER bedtime.

The house is quiet. The kids are nestled all snug in their beds. The dogs are walked. All I have to do is kiss a couple of foreheads, maybe hit the jacuzzi and get to bed. What's more, everyone who's awake is delighted to see me. My dogs rush to my side and nuzzle their heads into my lap as I sink into the couch and flex my ankles. My husband gives me a kiss and a hug and asks about my day. And I can actually answer him.

Once in a while my homecoming sets off a karmic disturbance and Lauren will wake up suddenly, weepy and a little confused. Then I get to tiptoe up the stairs in my nice clothes, lift her sleep-warmed body out of her crib and settle into the rocking chair for a sweet snuggle. It's as if I'm the queen of a soft, warm and quiet little kingdom and my subjects need nothing more than to bury their head in my neck to set the world back to rights.

The funny thing is that even though I've enjoyed the rush of a great meeting and (hopefully) the pleasure of an adult lunch, I've also missed my girls. Secretly I'm happy when they rustle awake, that their subconscious minds know I'm home, but just need to check to make sure. It's these moments that remind me that I truly do have it all.

What did you say?

Me: So remember Grace, you don't have piano today so take the bus to Miss Penny's.

Grace: But I haaate the bus!

Me: You love the bus.

Grace: No I don't because I have to sit by Dylan and he smells like poop!

Me: Oh. Well. I wouldn't like that either. (impressive bit of wisdom there, eh?)

***

Grace: Mom, I had a nightmare it was REALLY scary!

Me: Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. What was it about?

Grace: A mean lady came into our classroom and turned everyone into a salad and then ate us! It was so scary!

Me:(nothing. I had to bite my lip and turn my head to keep from laughing)

***

Me: Lauren, do you want some milk.

Lauren: yeah

Me: Lauren, let's put on your shoes.

Lauren: yeah

Me: Lauren, are you opposed to President Bush's stance on the Kyoto Treaty?

Lauren: yeah

Will I ever get it?

Have you ever been at your child's school and you see all the parents of the older kids? They seem like they know what they're doing. They've been here before. They know how to handle things. But the other day I had an epiphany about these people.

They don't know what they're doing as a parent any more than I do.

That's because, at least with your oldest child, every new thing is.... well, new. And with each new thing you have to figure out what to do, how to answer. So while I'm well equipped to deal with Lauren's on-the-floor temper tantrums, I'm totally unprepared to deal with Grace's crushing need to memorize her piano songs instantly so that she can impress her teacher.

And that's the irony of parenting. You never really get it all figured out.

This moment of realization has made me feel a whole lot better about the job I'm doing. It's like realizing that even the CEO of your company has to go poop. We all do it. And we all get through it. We may not always get it right, but no one else is either.

Week....whatever

Getting up early has its good points. You get a head start on the day. You get to see the sun come up (especially now that it doesn't rise until nearly 8 am.) You get all the hot water all to yourself.

But I still can't get used to it.

Enough complaining, though. It's been busy days around here and the most exciting recent event is a poop and a few tinkles on the potty by the wee Lauren (no pun intended). I'm delighted that she's interested in the potty, and even more delighted that my wonderful Penny at daycare is facilitating her interest and putting her on it.

This is where being a working mom is really paying off. I have NO idea how one goes about potty training. Grace got through it thanks to one of her grandmas, so on my end it was like a miraculous transformation I just got to enjoy. Not once did I have to spend 30 minutes or more sitting in the bathroom waiting for the action to happen. Which is good, because that kind of patience is not one of my strengths in motherhood or otherwise.

I'm hoping Lauren's transformation will be just as miraculous.

There's always hope, right?

Week 2

My sister says that it takes three weeks to get used to a new schedule, specifically, the schedule that involves me getting up at 5:30 am.

It's week two and I think I'm making progress. The hard part is being disciplined about going to bed on time. I mean, on the one hand the kids are going to bed early now that school has started, so I have a little more free time in the evening. On the other hand, I have to go to bed earlier too, so the free time has not really changed relative to the kids' bedtime.

Darn it.

The good news is that Grace loves school. And I have a whole new insight into one of the reasons I love work. It's the structure. I like knowing I have a place to get up and go each morning, that there are people depending on me to get their stuff done. I like having a reason to wear shoes that aren't flip flops (at least from October to April, that is). I can tell that Grace likes this too. Today it's art class, tomorrow it's PE, computer/library time and guidance. Whatever that is.

Now if I could just get used to that early wake up call.....

Where did the summer go?

Okay, so I've been a little bit lax on posting lately. Sue me. It's been summer.

And I've been too freakin busy to worry about writing about it.

We've had one large beach party, one small birthday party, one case of bronchitis, one huge (and incredibly boring) trade show, one sold car, one bought car, one case of pneumonia, one office move, three weddings, one new baby (not mine!), and one blown gasket on the boat. That one came last, and was a definite indicator that summer has come to an end.

Yesterday was the first day of school, which has, for most of my life, been the equivalent of New Years. Now that I actually have a kid in school it feels more than ever like that. I like the structure and I'm going to get back on track posting here, not because I have hundreds of fans clamoring for my words of wisdom (because I KNOW that's not the case), but because it gives me a nice record of what's been going on in my life. I know that someday I'll have trouble remembering what it was like when my girls were small and I was busy building a business. But maybe not. Every time I'm at the pool, or at a restaurant or running errands with my girls I catch an older woman gazing a little wistfully at me and my children. Usually they smile. Mostly they give me a looking of utter knowing and commiseration. I know I'll be one of those women someday, but right now I'm kind of glad those days are still far away.

Some days are weirder than others.

Yesterday I had a client meeting in DeKalb, Illinois. That might not sound too exciting, but it was a nice break from my usual trek down US 31 that I make just about every week. Anyway, we had this great meeting where we presented true creative work, also a nice break from the usual stuff we work on. They loved the work, complemented our research, my partner and I had a great lunch, and we didn't even get caught in the usual home-from-Chicago traffic nightmare.

When I got back I headed over to my parents' house to pick up the girls and have some dinner.

And then my step-mom brought out their new miniature horse.

We all screamed so loud she could hear us from outside the house. This is the cutest, littlest horse you've ever seen. Knee-high, with feet the size of silver dollars.

Me, my sister and her husband, my niece, my Dad and my two daughters ran outside and spent a half hour oohing and aahing over the horse. I took a picture with my cell phone that, of course, I can't show you because I don't have a clue how to get pictures from my phone to my computer.

Anyway, after the girls had soaked themselves playing in the birdbath (gross, I know), we went inside and had dinner. Lauren ate four (4!!!!) plates of spaghetti and was so messy I had to strip her in the high chair and take her straight to the bathtub without getting slimed on my dress pants.

Finally, around 9:00 and way past bedtime I got everyone clean, dry and loaded into the car. And then I had the feeling you get when you've had a day where you've spent considerable time in two totally different environments. Kind of like you had two separate days, but really it was all one very weird day.

Weird. But good.

What I like about work.

There are some days when it's hard to leave the girls at daycare. When I look at their sweet smiling faces and want to whisk them back into the car and straight to the beach.

But there are other days where work is like a drug I can't quit taking. I mean, yeah, my work is creative and fulfilling and all that jazz. But it's mostly the intangible benefits of going to work that make it all worthwhile. For instance, when I go to work no one is hanging on me. That's right - hanging. As in Lauren hanging from my thigh until I pick her up, or Grace (who is nearly too big for me to pick up without getting a hernia) reaching up to hug me, only to pick her feet up off the ground and swing from my neck like we're a pair of orangutans.

Parenting is an incredibly physical job. In fact, it's the sheer physical labor of it all that makes me relieved to go to work by Monday. Everyone at my office can walk up the stairs unassisted. Everyone here can go to the bathroom all alone. No one here has to be lifted into their booster chair or car seat or swing, or carried down a mountain of blistering hot sand that shifts with every step (much less carried back up!).

Best of all, no one here is crying. Which is good because, in our house, crying is contagious.

Exhibit A:



I guess it's the contrast between worlds that makes each one so great.

It's summer. Now what?

During the school year being a working mom is pretty easy. Sure, you have to attend some holiday parties and book fairs, but overall the schedule is pretty good. Drop the kids off in the morning, go to work, pick them up at daycare at the end of the day. They're busy. You're busy. Everyone has a routine.

Only now it's summer.

No schedule, for the kids anyway. Late bedtimes thanks to the sun setting at frigging 9:30. And my kids can't understand why I'm not on summer vacation too.

I used to have a friend who spent part of her childhood in California and went to school year-round. She totally dug it. I'll bet her parents did too. Instead of three months of "how in the heck am I going to keep these kids from getting bored out of their minds" they got a nice long vacation every few months, and then they got right back onto the schedule.

I'm not sure why we're still living our lives according to a turn-of-the-century agrarian calendar where the kids have to quit school at planting time and can't come back until the harvest is in. I mean, I LOVE summer. But I still have to work.

We're thinking about day camp. Of course, since I work, getting Grace to day camp, then from day camp to daycare is somewhat a logistical challenge. I'll let you know how it goes.

P.S. Thanks for reading girls. I've been doing a bad job keeping up with my posts, even though I have plenty to write about. But my PC at home is fixed now, so you should be hearing more. At least, that's my plan.

Guilt..unh... what is it good for? Absolutely nothin.

Say it again.

I've been feeling guilty lately.

Guilty that I've been working really hard and I'm so tired at the end of the day that I don't have it in me to re-enact Cinderella 3/play Polly Pockets/play peekaboo/or whatever other thing my girls would like to do at the end of the day.

Guilty that I've been bringing home a lot of carryout and not making dinner because I haven't had time to go the grocery store for nearly two weeks.

Guilty that I pass out on the couch at, like, 9:30 every Friday night because I'm just kind of fried from the week.

Guilty that I cringe every time I get a call from a certain client because I know it will be another new project or meeting that is great for business, but no so great for having a life.

Even guilty that I hadn't been writing in this blog.

And then I realized that I was just wasting my time.

There is no mother on earth who doesn't feel guilty about the choices she makes every day. If you work you feel guilty that you aren't at home more. If you have to leave work early during a really busy time to do something with your kids, then you feel guilty about that too. Heck, sometimes you even feel guilty about not feeling guilty.

But here's the thing I realized: no one is making me feel guilty except me. And even though I've been somewhat mentally consumed by a) work and b) guilt, the people around me are getting on with their lives. Grace thinks she's hit the jackpot because I let her watch Cinderella 3 for two nights in a row. Lauren is just fine playing with blocks by herself for a while. And Chad? Well, he's had a few Friday nights to watch a movie that I wouldn't have wanted to watch anyway.

Guilt is insidious. It's a living thing that, if we let it take hold, will prevent us from living in the moment, enjoying what we have and letting go of the things we can't control. A little guilt is good. It keeps us from checking our e-mail on Saturday when we should really be taking a walk with the kids. But too much can distort your view of reality. And no matter what extra stresses you may be experiencing right now, they will pass. And your kids will still turn out just fine. It's not our job to be 24/7 entertainment for them anyway.

So sing it with....Guilt...unh... what is it good for? Absolutely nuthin, say it again....

I'm at work right now and that 80s song "Our House" is on the radio. (We listen to internet-streaming radio all day, and not that crappy lite rock stuff that's approved of in most offices. We listen to some crazy stuff, and good stuff, and old stuff and sometimes my partner Chris likes to play latin music that makes me feel like I'm at Don Pablo's. But I digress.) You know how songs can call up a specific time and place in your mind? Here's the visual that, for me, always goes with this song:

A guinea pig funeral.

Yep. A funeral. For a guinea pig.

I was about 9 or so and I was going on a weekend trip with my somewhat friend Hillary to her family's lake house. But the first stop was a couple days at her house in Fort Wayne. This was my first real trip away from home with people who weren't my family and, frankly, once I got there I was not too excited about it. For one thing, Hillary was a raging brat, a fact that I couldn't help but notice even at age 9. For another, I was worried about what we would be eating because I was a fairly picky eater. I wrote in my diary my first night there that I really wanted to go home. (My diary!? Who travels with a diary when they're 9? What a dork.)

On the second day we went to the Fort Wayne mall, which, much to my surprise, had an ice skating rink inside. I still have the scar on my thumb from nearly shutting it into one of those lockers where you have to shut the door and pull the key out at the same time. So after an afternoon of skating and looking at earrings at Claire's we went back to her house only to find that Hillary's guinea pig had passed to the great beyond. Hillary was distraught. I could have cared less, but I was the guest, so I had to go along with the tragic grief.

We ended up out in the back yard with the guinea pig in a shoe box and the family (and me) standing in a circle around its tiny little grave. And here's where the music comes in. Up to that point I'd never been to anyone's house where they had speakers that played music OUTSIDE. Like, whatever was on the stereo in the house was piped outside. They seemed rich beyond imagination to me. I mean, not only did they live by a mall with an ice skating rink inside, they also had a lake house that we would be going to soon AND speakers that played music out in the back yard!

We had a swing set that wasn't anchored in concrete and a membership to the Moose pool.

"Our House" was on the radio during the funeral proceedings and I distinctly remember thinking that maybe I'd better not sing along during the actual funeral, even though it was one of my favorite songs.

Along with the gift of having an eternal link in my mind between "Our House" and a guinea pig funeral, there were a few other things I picked up from that trip:
• a love for Golden Grahams cereal
• the knowledge that I really don't want to eat venison again
• the ability to water ski

All in all, not a bad trip.

Some days.

So I'm getting breakfast made for the girls and myself this morning when Chad comes upstairs and informs me that Charlie (remember the best Christmas present ever?) has pooped in his crate. I had walked this dog about an hour before. But pooping outside just wasn't on his agenda this morning.

Chad has a seriously quick gag reflex, so off I went to clean the crate. In truth, it doesn't bother me that much, but cleaning a poopy dog crate tray is not the way I usually like to start my day. I gave Charlie dirty looks while I dumped the poop into the outside bin and quizzed him on his scatalogical habits while I wiped the tray down with Clorox wipes. (I use Clorox wipes like the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding used windex. I swear, they clean everything.) He just wagged his tail at me and blinked.

When I was done with the poop-fest I went back up to the kitchen only to find that Lauren had climbed into Grace's chair and grabbed her glass of milk, which was now all over the chair and dripping onto the floor. Not as stinky as the poop, but still.... two messes in one morning?

Some days, things just don't go quite right. I'm just hoping the rest of the day shapes up a little more neatly.

Maybe we've watched a little too much Cinderella.

Grace has a boyfriend.

His name is Logan. She's in love with him. And when she's old enough Chad is going to "walk her to him" when they get married.

Oh, yeah. And he's really nice to her.

Apparently, however, Logan is not in love with her. I know this because when I asked Grace if Logan loves her she told me that he didn't even know that she loves him. Guess she hasn't broken the big news yet.

On the one hand I find this whole thing sweet and funny. She is so sincere in her love for him and she goes on and on about how nice he is (thank god). On the other hand, I'm wondering what the heck the Disney machine is doing to my kid that has a 5-year-old planning her wedding. I mean, the only princess movie that's even remotely girl-poweresque is Mulan, and even she gets the guy in the end. It's really starting to annoy me.

I don't think I have to worry too much, though. Grace told me the other day that if Logan doesn't want to marry her then she will live with me in the same house forever. I think that would be just fine, as far as her Dad is concerned.

I'll post a picture as soon as A) I get my PC at home fixed, because it crapped out after only 13 months on the job. Nice.; or B) blogger supports Macs better and lets me upload my pictures.

Did I mention that Logan sits next to her at her table at preschool and also plays with her during centers? What a guy.

The good, the bad and the just plain awesome.

It's been quite a month.

Here's the good:
One of my brothers is going to be a Dad for the first time. He's thrilled and I'm thrilled for him.

Here's the bad:
A bond issue to build a new elementary school and make sorely needed improvements to the local middle/high school failed to pass yesterday. Chad and I had gotten involved in the campaign because this was an important issue for us, not just for our kids but also for the growth of our small, but great, community. It's depressing to come face-to-face with the fact that we are surrounded by so many cheap, small-minded, negative people who probably will never see the big picture. But that's life, I guess.

Here's the just plain awesome:
I'm a little reluctant to talk about this because it might jinx it somehow. But here goes.....my business may be moving to within 10 miles of my house. This will be the first time in 12 years that I will drive less than 35 minutes to get to work. The whole thing will be life changing on many levels and I'm really excited. I mean, this could add nearly an hour of time back into my life.

My life and my work all happening in one place. That's hard to imagine, really.

Out of the mouths of babes... and grandpas.

My Dad and step-mom watched our girls part of the time that Chad and I were in Hawaii. It's great for The Toads (our family nickname for the 'rents) because they get some super quality time with the chickens (my nickname for my girls), and it's great for the chickens because they get to stay up way too late and eat ice cream every night. Also, you get to hear some really funny stories when you get back. Like this one, for example...

My Dad and Grace were hanging out in the living room with the TV on in the background when it dawns on my Dad that CSI is on. (So I know we're already up past bedtime.) The CSI gang is making an arrest. In a strip club.

Grace: "What kind of restaurant IS this?"

Dad: "Well, they go swimming after they eat."

Grace: "Oh. That must be why they all have their bathing suits on."

Good save, Dad.

Re-entry is tough. Part 2.

What is this?


It's me. Exactly one week ago today. In Hawaii. Where it's warm.

Now I'm at home and it's 3 degrees outside. That's not a typo. It's 3 and that doesn't cover the windchill factor (or "windshield factor" as a friend of mine once thought), which is somewhere in the land of 12 below.

Is there such a thing as Hawaii withdrawal?

woooohooooo!!!!!!

The Bears are in the Super Bowl. In case you hadn't heard.

I'm a lifelong, die-hard Bears fan. Last night's win was about the most exciting Sunday afternoon I've had in a long time. So now the Bears are in the Super Bowl and while I'm waiting around for that day to get here I get to go to Hawaii on vacation.

Life is good.

Welcome to the world, Josh.

We have a new member of our extended family:

Joshua was born in Seattle today. He's 19 inches long, 7 pounds, 9 ounces and his mother labored 24 hours to get him here. His grandpa Harry has been waiting virtually his entire adult life for his time as a parent to result in the big payoff - grandchildren. Congratulations Harry - your day has come!

Josh's parents, Matt and Beth, are truly lovely people and Josh is blessed to be born into a large and loving extended family who have been anxiously awaiting his arrival. What a gift to be unconditionally loved even before you are born. And you are loved Josh, you are truly, fully and unconditionally loved.

Welcome to the family.

Now if I could just conquer my e-mail....

We've conquered the binky, I think. Good thing, too, because the last week or two at work has been intense. Why?

E-mail.

I'm completely convinced that e-mail actually hinders communication. However, lately I've been getting more e-mail than ever that requires me to act in some way. I've also had more e-mails than ever that were part of some CYA electronic daisy chain of torture. You know what I'm talking about - you send an e-mail to a client to ask a simple question. They forward it to the entire "team." Everyone on the team responds, but when they do they "reply to all." And pretty soon, even the junior project assistant is adding her two cents because she just wants everyone to know that she's participating in the process. And oh yeah, no one ever actually answers the original question.

It's totally annoying.

At the end of last week I staged my own personal protest and started calling people. On the telephone. I even left one guy a message saying that I was calling him because I didn't want to start up the circling e-mail thing again. You know what? He called me back the next day and we worked out the details of a fairly complicated project in about 7 minutes. The same thing would have taken two days and 18 messages via e-mail.

Yep. The phone. It's amazing technology.

P.S. As I was writing this our new puppy peed on the living room rug. The job never ends, does it?

I mean it. I really am an idiot.

So we've completed Night 4 of the no-binky program and you know what? Lauren slept right through the night last night without a peep.

What was I waiting for? Why didn't I do this earlier? Why did I even give her a binky in the first place?

Scratch that last one... she's got a crabby streak so I know exactly why I gave her a binky. I'm just glad we got rid of it before she's developed the communication skills to argue about it.

Cold turkey on the binky.

I'm an idiot.

I've been getting up every night, as much as three times a night, stuffing the binky back into Lauren's mouth. Why? I have no idea. It's one of those things that sneaks up on you, like you think "oh, it only takes a minute to go in there, put it in her mouth and get back in bed." But really, when you do it two or three times, it adds up. And, because her witching hours are between 2 and 5 am, what it adds up to is interrupted sleep right before it's time to get up. It was really making me crabby.

So as of Sunday we went cold turkey on the binky.

Why Sunday you ask? Because if she cried all night at least I could relax a little bit at work.

Don't get me wrong. When I'm at work, there's work to do. But everyone here can feed themselves, wipe their own butts (at least I hope so), and walk. Which is really relaxing for me.

Even my husband said that we should do it on a weekend. You know, so we could take a nap if we needed to. Give me a break! Who are these people with small children who get to nap on Saturday?! Sure, I can nap while Lauren naps. As long as I don't mind Grace watching Go Diego, Go! and climbing on and off the bed about a hundred times.

But I'm getting off track. What really makes me an idiot is that the reason I decided to go cold turkey now was that I have a friend coming to care for my children while we go to Hawaii in a couple of weeks and I didn't want her to have to get up in the night. That's right. I'm perfectly willing to do this endlessly myself, even though I hate it. But I can't stand the idea that someone else would have to. Why wouldn't I treat myself with this much consideration? I don't know, but I feel kind of stupid.

So last night was Night 1. Lauren cried for about 7 minutes at bedtime, but she was also in meltdown from having cousins over for the entire weekend. She woke up at about 1:30 and cried on and off for about 20 minutes. Not in that sad, I'm-lost-without-the-binky-please-cuddle-me way, but more in a who-in-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are-taking-my-binky-away way. She was pissed. But she got over it and went back to sleep until 6:45.

It's the deepest I've slept in a very long time.

P.S. A couple of weeks ago I did take a nap while Lauren was napping. Grace sat on the bed watching Noggin, and once when she got back on the bed she fell on my head. But I did nap and when I woke up Grace said, "Mom, I need to tell you something." I said, "What is it, sweetie?" She said, "While you were sleeping I went downstairs and ate M&Ms." I practically had to bite my tongue off to keep from laughing. Because, when I was a kid, I would have done the same dang thing. And, hey, it could have been worse.

Re-entry is tough.

I've had a week off. A little more actually, since I only worked the equivalent of about three days the week before Christmas, and those weren't exactly high pressure. Today was my first day back on "the routine." I started out by turning off my alarm clock instead of hitting the snooze button.

Grace is off school until the 8th, so the out-the-door deadline is not exactly hard and fast, but I feel like I should stick to it anyway because, well, we just should. But I forgot to factor in the puppy (you remember him? the best christmas present ever?), who needs to go out about a nanosecond after he hears footsteps.

The good news is that it was a relatively low-key workday, although I did have to go to a client meeting at 3:00. Guess some people are chomping at the bit to get back to work, eh? But I got off the hook for an 8 am meeting tomorrow at a client that's three hours away.

One thing I forgot though – there's not much time to spend with the kids at the end of the day. Which kind of sucks.