Thanksgiving is not funny.

Well, obviously, Thankgsiving day is the breeding ground for all kinds of funny. Funny cooking stories. Funny family stories. Funny traffic stories. Funny scary turkey stories. But, the night before Thanksgiving is not funny - it's contemplative. And I am contemplating all that I am thankful for. So, if you like sappy, come along with me...

I was just reading my five favorite mommy blogs (Girls Gone Child, Dooce, Moms are for everyone, Straight from the Bottle, and Mamalogues) and noticed everyone was blogging their thanks. And even though I was planning to go straight into the kitchen and start cooking a pie and cornbread after finishing all the important blogs the blogs made me think I should record my thanks too. (That way I can make Jackson read my Thanksgiving blog aloud for all Thanksgivings to come for the rest of his life, as a tribute to me, his mother).

So I told Brent, who is sitting next to me, "I can't go cook right now because I have to write a Thankgiving blog and look on You Tube for musical videos that will capture my Thanksgiving spirit and thankfulness."

"And also, I may be procrastinating"

And Brent said, "That's so surprising" in a tone that was sarcastic and patient at THE SAME TIME. (like, simultaneously).

And then he said, "Its a holiday for you too babe".

And then I said, "Does that mean you think I SHOULD write a Thanksgiving blog even though I should be cooking?"

And he said, "Exactly" and kissed me on the head.

I am thankful for my husband who understands me and loves me.

I am thankful for my son. For my first year as a mother, for becoming a parent with my husband who is the best father in the world. After 30 years, you become all used to what love is. You take love for granted, it's like breathing, you've never been without it. And then you have a child, and you're like "Whoa, love" this is a whole new side of you. Love as a mom makes me think all kinds of new thoughts constantly. For example, I look at children differently now that I have one of my own - it's like I love all of them too. I realize how important they are, and I want to give all parents I see on the street a hug and say, I know. I know. (But, if I actually did that it would be really weird, like the word 'funny' in writing is weird to look at, but this is more weird with a side of creepy because imagine if someone came up to you in the grocery store and gave you a hug and said, "I know, I know." You would be thinking "CA-REEPY" not "Oh, that's so sweet" which is how I would have meant it). Okay, moving on----I am grateful for all the love my child has given me and how he makes me want to be a better person and more understanding, and more loving, and more empathetic. And how much he makes me believe in God and goodness and the enormity and power that each moment can hold.

I am thankful for all of my family and Brent's family and all our friends who are kinder and sweeter to us than we even deserve. And who helped us welcome our son into the world surrounded with love and open arms.

I'm thankful to our parents for not sleeping when we were babies and changing our diapers(!) and feeding us and teaching us how to walk and talk and laugh and hug and sing and picking us up when we fall.

I'm thankful to humor for getting us through difficult moments.

I'm thankful for my car so I don't have to walk (I hate walking, I wrote a post about it)

I'm thankful we have jobs in this recession and that we have a roof over our heads.

I'm thankful for Holidays which make us slow down, and think, and be with loved ones.

I'm thankful for this year, a year that has been life changing and difficult and has turned me inside out and upside down. A year I wouldn't trade for anything.

I'm thankful for music. For sad songs even when I'm happy. For children's songs which are the BEST, that make my baby bounce up and down and coo and communicate that he knows music, and loves it too. For songs that give me goosebumps. For songs that capture things I cannot describe.

I'm thankful for life.

Home Sweet Home

I came home from Pendleton tonight. Two nights away from home. I walked in, still on the phone, still working. I buried my head in a tiny tummy covered by flannel monkeys. I ushered my husband out the door so he could go the Blazers game. Then me and the little one started our evening.

Me and Baby J's To Do List. Completed.

1) Dinner: veggies, rolls, chicken, applesauce
2) Bubble bath with 15 toys
3) PJs
4) Dance Contest
5) Read "Where's my belly button?" Book
6) Found kitty, played with kitty, lost kitty
7) Toys!!!!!!!!!!!!!
8) Warm bottle, snuggles in rocking chair
9) Night Night!

Would someone like to bring me a drink?

I have not blogged in like 1000 years because I didn't want to bore you all with my drippy whining. If I've said it once, I've said it 7 times: I love my baby. I hate the side effects. Listen, I'm all amazed and stuff that my husband and I have made a PERSON out of our love. That's fantastically wierd and endlessly cool but it's also making me really tired. Like really really tired. I kind of want a trophy or a certificate or a pen that says my name on it. I'm so addicted to my kid I have a disturbing tendancy of actually enjoying it when he cries in the middle of the night, because I'm all "Yay, we get to play!!! I wonder what he'll do when he sees me come in the room? I'll bet he'll be excited to see me! My little angel doo doo goober star!!!!!"

He will never know his real name.

Also, there is this peson that shall remain un-nameless but they just had a baby and I gave him/her my understanding, full of pity "How ya doin?" look and asked, "Are you getting any sleep?" And she or he was all, "Actually, I have been getting sleep - my baby sleeps through the night." And then what happened after this clearly ridiculous statement was my eyes became all squinty, my brows met in the middle and my lips pursed together in a tight line to prevent myself from saying "YOU LIAR LIAR LYING LIAR!" Pause. And. Also. "You are getting NO SLEEP - don't lie to me you big liar that is lying right to my face. No moms are ever getting any sleep. The end. And don't pretend to be okay with it. Here, I made you a pen with your name on it, I AM SO SORRY you aren't getting any sleep." Disclaimer: I know aprox 8 people who meet the above he/really she description so if you think it's you that I'm calling a liar, that may or may not be true. Please just admit you are tired, that is all I want. On top of a small token of appreciation from the world as mentioned in the form of a pen, trophy, etc and a brimming cup of alcohol. Maybe in a sippy cup so my child won't knock it off the coffee table and spill it on the rug. Like my diet pepsi the other day.

It's really hot

It's hot like childhood summers of sticky popsicles and lukewarm fans. Like upstairs rooms and sleeping without covers & wet rags stuck to your arms all night while you toss and turn and breathe in nothing but terrible August heat (in July!)

I spent 3 hours rocking Baby J no less than five inches away from two fans - one for his front and one for his back. He had the worst puppy dog eyes as he limply stared at the offensive air. "Why mommy, why?" Basically, son, because plug-in fans conquer heat like a thimble contains the ocean. Do you get my over dramatic, slightly mixed metaphor?

It all means one thing -- I will not go through another summer with children without air conditioning. I recognize I have a child, not children, but heat stroke is leaving me seeing double.

My Workly Week Plan -- Also, My Made Up Language & Foray into Flexible Grammar

Okay, all my co-workers who read this will understand what I'm talking about (and I know at least 2.5 of my co-workers do occasionally meander across this link.)

I have a workly week plan. That's a good example of what sleep deprivation does to my grammar -- I mean, weekly work plan. Jeez. And I turn it in every Monday before I begin to tackle my TO DO list that without the restraints of a weekly work plan would turn into an angry monster who devours me alive and leaves Brent and Baby J into a widower and orphan, respectively. However, that will never happen because I diligently sit down and organize my work hours into very neat categories such as:

1. Goals
2. Tasks / Assignments needed to achieve Goals
3. Calendar - that's where I list all my meetings, tasks, assignments, schedule time to return the 68 calls the red message light is reminding me of on my office phone, etc...

So, as a result I think I'm pretty on top of my work and manage my time effectively. TYVM.

Now, it's beginning to occur to me I may need a similar work plan for my personal life/household on days that I notice the following:

1. I have no time to shower
2. Eighteen piles of laundry are leaving me 68 hate-messages on my voicemail describing in detail what a bad laundry do-er I am.
3. My child's toys are hiding from the chaos and have taken up residence under the sofa.
4. Dinner is a funny joke we heard about once in a fairy tale land.
5. The TV remote is missing for days on end (as opposed to minutes on end pre-baby world) because we are actually TOO BUSY to turn on the TV. Let's have a moment of silence and acknowledge the grief we feel in this statement (wait a minute, the baby's too cute to care! Hurrah for cute babies that cure us of TV addictions! However, I would like to watch a little Tori & Dean, just sayin' -- That's valid because there are babies on that show so it would be educational.)
6. The cats are buying their own cat food and cleaning the kitty litter box in a desperate and ineffective campaign to point out our neglect.

It's a toss up between applying the same dedication to managing my time at work to the rigors of running a household and raising a child OR following my mother's advice: If there is time to fold laundry, there is time to play with the baby. That was her motto -- and I gotta say, it has a nice ring to it.

P.S. -- Katie should probably read this. Katie - I won't print your last name on my blog because, trust me, you don't want to be attached to my crazy crazy BUT you should probably read this, is all. (In case I ever hire professional help! Not that kind, the other kind)

Also: The cat link is Teresa's fault. Teresa Sara Tobin's fault.

Facebook posting turned into spontaneous blog...

Ok --- I'm so glad you asked. I was feeding Jack his bottle and I have this "soothing sounds" cd playing (I got it the dollar tree, don't ask) in the background. He's almost asleep and we are all curled up in the rocking chair. I'm chewing gum and I absentmindedly blew a big pink bubble and then it popped. Jackson's eyes fly open spits milk EVERYWHERE ---he is laughing sooo hard. (I have never heard him laugh like this) So I blow another bubble and he just goes into hysterics. We do this like 37 times on repeat. And then I fall to the floor exhausted with sheer joy. Then of course I posted on Facebook. To me -- very exciting. Too bad my video camera is dead. That is so like me. On a developing note, Jackson is now waking up every 10 minutes in sheer screaming fits like he's having the most terrifying nightmares ever, which I am worried are related to the bubble blowing episodes. I may have to copy and paste this on my blog b/c I'm writing a book here....

VIDEO TO COME

Babies are...

Sticky fingers

Toothless smiles

Reaching for what they know they shouldn't

Too little to wear sunglasses but hate bright light

Opposed to safety straps

Dedicated to grabbing eye glasses, necklaces, earrings, hair...and not letting go

Unable to pet cats correctly

Messy eaters, happy eaters

Not afraid to put gross tasting things in their mouths, like shopping cart handles.