Guess who got a call from New York!

I admit, I always wondered what it would be like to see that 212 area code on my caller ID.

Well, now I know that it rocks. Because on the other end of the phone you get to hear this unexpectedly nice sounding agent go on and on about how much she loved your book and how, even though you must be SO swamped with offers of representation (HA!), she really wants to convince you to let her represent the book because it's so freaking awesome. (That was a bit of a paraphrase, obviously :-)

I only sent her the book on WEDNESDAY, by the way. She emailed me the very next day to say that she was loving it and would finish it by the end of the weekend and call me right away, which she did. I confess, when I saw that email I was CONVINCED she must be a scam artist, so I spent a few hours online checking her out. Turns out not only is she legit, but just about everyone out there *loves* her. I was totally shocked. (About the getting contacted by a non-scam artist thing, not that everyone out there would love someone!)

Good times, ya'll!

The best day ever!

Today:

1) I awoke at 7 AM to discover that my baby had FINALLY slept through the night
2) my pants were WAY too big. Embarassingly too big. I'm never going to be able to wear them again they're so big.
3) I got an email from an actually respectable agent about how much she loved my book.
4) I got an email from a professor at the University of Wales going on about how my writing was so "original" and "fluid" and "enjoyable" and how he really wanted me to apply to their PhD program.
5) My colleauge pulled me aside in the hallway to tell me that TONS of my students had won awards in the annual Hon 150 contest.
6) AND BOTH of my kids are napping right now! At the same time! That NEVER happens!

Can this day get any better?

guess who's walking

It's Yi-yi (her nickname) the eight-month-old wonder. She took four steps yesterday. And she's not humble about it, either. Every time she takes a step, she throws her arms in the air and gives this psycho Karate scream.

The awesome thing about having a fractured spine

is that my insurance company is paying for me to have a nanny. Every day for three hours a day. For a YEAR!!!!

I cannot describe the vast surges of joy this causes me. Or how much I love my insurance company. Geico-oh-geico let me write a poem for thee . . . Or maybe just say that you're AWESOME.

[post edit: actually Geico lied about the nanny. and they SUCK.]

Ho Ho Hoax

So, Santa, of course, showed up at our house.

I'd been trying for weeks to build up my two-year old. We talked about Santa, we talked about Christmas. My husband didn't like to talk about Santa because he felt like a big, fat fraud. I never felt like a fraud, though. I'm all about the metaphors and Santa freaking rocks.

Well, when Christmas morning came and I led my little boy out to see the Christmas tree I said, "Oh, look! Did Santa bring you presents?"

My two year old looked at me, all confused, then looked at his dad. "No," he concluded. "Mommy did."

Lovely.

But--maybe to make up for it--today when he was crying I said, "Kido, I love you so much. Do you know I love you? And lots of other people love you, too. Do you know who else loves you?"

I paused and my two year old answered, "I know! Santa . . . Santa Claus. He wubs me."

Long live the metaphors!

My sister and I have a "Charmed" obsession

We started watching the series from the beginning a few weeks ago--since my messed up back means I spend a lot of time in bed--and we're racing to get through all 7 seasons. Sometimes we watch five or six episodes a day.

Well, the other day my two year old came up to me and said, "Mom, let's watch Charmed!"

My sister and I were happy to oblige.

Well, at one point in the episode two of the characters started making out.

My two year old cozied up to me and said, "Ah! I LOVE the kissing!!!" At which point he started passionately making out with my arm.

I don't even want to be around when this kid gets hormones.

I'm almost too embarassed to post this

but the other day I was nursing my baby girl and my two year old came up to me. He said, "mom, those are your boobs."

I said, "You are so right about that, kid."

Then he looked at them and said, "Can I touch them?"

And I said, "you most certainly may not."

And he said, "But I want to EAT them!"

The Palace

Or, the "goddess palace" and my best friend and I call it, is FINISHED! And it's beautiful. Just really beautiful.

What it is: a tuff shed that we insulated, dry walled, and wired with electricity. And when I say "we" I mean my best friend. She did all the work. I just sat there watching her most of the time. Fractured spine and all. Oh, and I hired an electrician. My best friend wanted to do the electricity herself, but she is frankly a crazy person.

Why we built it: Ever hear of the whole "room of one's own" concept? That's what this is. Only it's a shed. It's a beautiful (and I do mean beautiful) place where no babies are allowed. There are bookshelves, a fridge, a microwave, a loft with a bed, a lazy-boy, a 10-ft. long desk, and some other stuff. The first time I stood alone in it after it was finished I started crying.

And it was SO FUN to build. Seriously. You wouldn't think that dropping a small fortune on dry wall and nails and staple guns would be fun, but it was really, really fun. It reminded me of when I was in third grade and my friend Tiffany and I would secretly play Barbies together. We knew we were supposed to be too old for Barbies, and we knew we couldn't *tell* anyone that we did it, but we did it anyway.

Yes, I have a fractured spine

At least, two doctors said I did. One told me I had a broken vertebrae and then went to the hallway to confirm with his doctor friend who also thought it was broken. But there was this one radiologist who disagreed and said it could be something else (because no one thought to take pictures--they thought my back pain would magically go away!-- until, like, months after the accident, so things change after months and things that look like they might be fractures can apparently be confused with I dunno what). I don't know what they wrote in my medical file. But they all agreed that my spine is messed up. I think he was saying I have a ruptured disk, a herniated disk, a torn disk, and an assortment of ripped ligaments all along the cortical, thorassic, and lumbar spine. Something medical and horrifying like that. It's that drunk dude's fault who hit us in that really bad car accident just after my baby was born. I actually got subpeonaed for the first time, by the way. Pretty exciting. I'm a witness for the prosecution in a criminal jury trial. It's almost like I'm the star of my very own TV show! I can't decide what to wear... :-)

My two year old cussed out his nursery leader

Just when we thought he might be getting over the "sh*t"s he brought them out again.

At church.

Prayers to the Virgin Mary

We were driving home from California this week and the kids were HORRIBLE. My little girl screamed for 6 hours straight and my little boy was despondent because we left the DVD player at grandpa's house, and also, my back hurt like a mother*&%er. A drive that should have taken 9 hours was taking closer to 16 because of all the stopping we had to do.

Well, on one of our stops we went to a Wal Mart where we walked around all bleary eyed. We had been praying and praying for hours, hoping that things would get better. But they hadn't.

Then on one of the ailes we found a Virgin Mary candle.

I picked up the candle and said, "Well, God, if *you* won't do anything..."

We lit the candle to the Virgin.

The kids fell asleep and slept till home.

Mommy is so proud moment number 687

My two year old's aunt took away his juice box because he was squirting it all over the car and he was pissed. He yelled at her and shook his finger at her. Finally he just held his breath for a second and then yelled, clear as ever, "SH*T!!!!"

And then when we couldn't stop laughing he just said it over and over and over, which wasn't great, either.

I'm not sure who taught him that particular word. Even though I do swear (a little too much) that doesn't happen to be one of my words. Unless I don't know myself as well as I thought. Hmm . . .

My baby girl laughs now

and it's hillarious. She's one of the girliest looking girls I've ever seen. She has these long eyelashes and pink cheecks and a bashful little grin.

But her laugh comes out as this deep-toned, gutteral force of air that sounds vaguely like she's going to puke.

Not girly at ALL.

This is a really disgusting post

Seriously. So if you don't want to be disturbed, stop reading NOW.

I've been having this horrible nightmare. In it, my vagina is stuffed with bug larva. They just keep plopping out in these slimy clumps everywhere I go. They're oozes of spherical bubbles with squirming worms inside. The spheres all stick together and make an awful glurp-glump sound as they plop out.

I think it's rooted in the fact that I call my little kidos "bugs" and that I'm absolutely terrified of getting pregnant again.

So gross.

Somewhere out there is going to be a fabulous wig

I cut off more than a foot of my hair today and donated it. It used to go to my butt. Now it doesn't even go to my shoulders. It's awesome.

Plus I dyed it. Woo hoo! I've never dyed it before in my whole life. It's really blonde now.

My computer is going into the shop

It's supposed to take a few weeks. What they need three weeks for when all they have to do is replace the "n" key, don't ask me. Point is, I won't be on for a few weeks. Come back, though!

In praise of the VW passat

My husband and I were in a bad car accident Friday night. We were coming home from seeing Superman (without babies, thank goodness) and getting off the freeway onto the four lane divided highway thingy that is 7200 S.-West-of-the-Freeway, when an out of control drunk driver came from behind. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but we were hit once from the back, then there was some spinning (and some screaming), then we were hit from the side, then we skidded over the median and into oncoming traffic all the way across two lanes and up onto the opposite sidewalk and almost into a ditch but not quite. Thank goodness the oncoming traffic was able to stop because let me tell you there's not much freakier than seeing six or seven sets of headlights coming straight for you as you're totally out of control (and screaming ). The side air bags deployed and my husband's window was shattered. The whole back of the car was mushed in and the side pretty messed up, too. All four tires exploded and there was oil leaking from somewhere in the car.

Afterward were shaking pretty dang bad but were really surprised to be walking around. [Not quite as surprised to see the drunk dude stumble out of his car and try to run away from the cops who were *right there*, but whatev.]

Turns out our car (a VW Passat)--which we bought for the sole reason of its being the cheapest used car we could find at the time--is one of the safest cars you can get. It's mushed now, but we walked away and think we want another one just like it.

Anyway. If we had skidded across the median about three seconds later than we did, we could very well be dead because we would have hit two cars head on. It's frankly kind of weird to be in a situation that could have been so deadly. I don't know if the fragility of life is supposed to teach you to just hang on through tough times or to do whatever it takes not to have tough times because life is so short.

[post edit: my back hurt a lot after this, but the medics and the hospital thought it was the type of injury that would go away. but it didn't. it might never go away, they tell me now. blah.]

sleep deprivation taking its toll

Awhile ago I had to write down the date on a form of some kind. I looked at the line and wrote, without hesitation, "Oct. 27, 1983."

And it took me about a minute and a half to even notice my mistake.

Not ready to give in

Awhile ago my two year old was really, really mad at his dad and new sister. He yelled at them, shook his finger at them, and eventually collapsed in a screaming, sobbing heap on the floor.

I picked him up and asked if he wanted to say a prayer to help him feel better. He said yes.

Mommy: "Heavenly Father"

2yrold: "Fadur"

Mommy: "Thank you for home"

2yrold: "Sink oo for om."

Mommy: "Thank you for my family"

2yrold: "Sink oo," [pause][angry voice] "for mommy."

Ways to melt your mommy's heart

The other day I overhead my two year old walking down the hallway. He was holding a picture of the new baby and talking to himself.

"Me bee-bee sister . . ." he was saying. "CUTE!"

At least she's not a vampire

The day my new baby came home from the hospital, my mom and I were home alone with her. She'd just eaten and was trying to burp. But, since she was only two days old, she wasn't very good at burping and was instead making this weird sort of choking/gasping type noise. I was slightly disturbed by the noise, and even more disturbed by the fact that it had been at least 15 seconds since her last breath, but I had to pee, really, really bad. So I handed the baby over to my mom and ran to the bathroom.

Before I could get beyond unbuttoning my pants, though, my mom was screaming.

Now, and this is embarassing, my first thought was, "Woman! What's the matter with you? She can't be dead *yet.*" Because, as we all know, it takes at least three minutes to suffocate.

But she was still screaming. Kind of a lot.

So I grudgingly buttoned my pants back up and walked back to where my mom was.

The sight I saw was kind of disturbing. My mom was holding up my two day old baby and the baby had blood running out of her mouth and down onto her nightgown. Lots of it.

I don't even remember if I went pee because we were both totally freaking out so much that we just rushed out to the car and started for the ER.

When we got there, though, everyone reacted with less than alarm. They looked at the baby. Then they asked to look at my nipples.

"Yeah," they said. "There's no reason to worry. She's not throwing up her own blood. She's throwing up *yours.*"

Which is, in its own way, equally as disturbing.

"Yeah," they said. "This happens all the time."

Which immediately made be wonder 1) Why hadn't I heard of it happening ever before? and 2) Why the punks at the hospital didn't warn me it *could* happen.

They sent us home and told me to use a breastpump until my nipples were less scabby.

Daddy hold IT!

There's a new hirearchy in our house. Our two year old decides who's the most important to him at any given time. The loser must hold the baby.

Usually I "win" and my two year old points his little finger at me holding the baby and says, "Daddy hold IT!!" (Yes, he calls the baby "it." My husband thinks this reveals his inner feelings about the baby. I think it reveals the fact that my not-yet-very-verbal toddler hasn't figured out pronouns yet. Maybe it's a combination of both.)

But on the few occassions when my toddler decress, "Mommy hold IT!" my husband starts doing this annoying little dance and saying, "yes! I win! I win! yes!"

All very disturbing.