Leaving on a jet plane

So tomorrow morning I'll be getting on a plane to fly to Pittsburgh where I will be co-hosting a baby shower for one of my closest friends, Jenny.

It seems like only yesterday (it was April 1st) that Jenny called me up and told me she thought she just might need to get a pregnancy test. Maybe.

I, of course, urged her to go get one immediately.

And what do you know? Jenny's preggers. It was a little funny that she found out on April Fools Day.

No really, honey, it's really NOT a joke. Really.

So tomorrow's the day that I get on the plane and all the hoopla can ensue.

I'm really excited because it will be the first time in a long time I'll see a couple of my old friends. And it will be five WHOLE days that I don't have to check homework or make anyone go to bed on time or anything like that. And I got a window seat on all flights there and back and I do love window seats.

But I do have a little confession to make.

I'm totally not a seasoned flyer. I mean, I'm not at all afraid of the flying part. Or the landing part or any of that. I'm just nervous about the whole airport thing. The security and the checkpoints and the "does my mascara count as fluids?" and "will I need a seatbelt extender? the HORROR!" and "what if my e-ticket doesn't work for some reason??" and all that stuff.

It would be one thing if I wasn't flying all by myself. Hopelessly alone.

Another if The Man could actually go through the security checkpoints and stuff with me and all that.

But no. I will be all by myself.

And it's the first time I'll be flying by myself since 9/11. And only the second time I'm flying at all since 9/11. And the first time since 9/11 I'll be flying on a real plane. Cause I sort of don't really count the 19 passenger plane we took to the Bahamas a couple of years ago.

19 passengers... yeah. It was an experience.

So I'm nervous, yes. And I think I might make a trip to the airport bar before I board. Because it's never too early to drink in an airport, is it?

If I could just get a few minutes, I might not rip their heads off as often...

There are times, and those times seem to be coming more frequently than they used to, when I have a strong desire to be able to control my environment.

Having three kids and a dog make that almost impossible. This causes me great amounts of stress.

See, I just want everything to be still. I want everyone to stop moving. I want there to be no noises, no changes in light, no phones ringing, no 9-year-old boy sound effects being made, no tattling, nothing.

I want to be able to sit with my thoughts and think them.

And it really makes me sad that I want it so badly, because it prevents me from enjoying my family as much as I should.

Perhaps I should look into prescription drugs? Happy pills anyone?

The New & Improved Spaz Is Back!

I think I may be able to write again. Maybe.

After a long summer of not being able to pull a cohesive thought out of my head, I think I may be able to blog again. I think that maybe, just maybe, I'm ready to get back into the swing of things.

When I was young I used to think I worked well under pressure. In high school and college due dates and deadlines sort of thrilled me. There was just something about that last minute scramble in the wee hours of the morning, putting a project together and getting those finishing touches in just before the moment of truth, my body running only on adrenaline and caffeine until I could finally just let it all go once the assignment was out of my hands.

I lived for that crap.

These days? Not so much. And blogging sort of started to become an assignment. First it was all the blogging carnivals - Works For Me Wednesday, Sincerely 'Fro Me To You (I don't even know where to find that one anymore... anyone know?)... there were others, too. I had to blog, had to get my post up at just the right time, had to fill in my Mr. Linky as close to the time it was posted as humanly possible.

Then it was the statistics. How many readers did I get every day? How long did they stay? What keywords were they using to find my blog? Where did they come from? How could I get more? MORE MORE!!!

Finally, the straw that broke my camel's aching back, was the Nickelodeon Parent's Choice Award Nomination. I wanted to win win win!!

Except as soon as I felt pressure, as soon as I felt like I needed to get the stats up, get the votes, be a popular blogger... I just sort of shut down.

And thus, a blogging hiatus was born.

So now, I haven't linked up to a blogging carnival in months and my stats are in the toilet and I don't even know who won the Parent's Choice Award Nomination but it wasn't me. And now that all that pressure is off? I feel GREAT.

**It was Tropic of Mom - who is wonderful, btw!**


So here is my promise to all of you three wonderful readers out there. I won't ever let that happen again. Sure, I may link up to a carnival... but only because I really think I've got something to add to it. I'm blogging now because I love blogging, because I think I might have something to say, something to share, something that might make y'all laugh.

That's right, baby. I'm back.

Now he is SIX

ZOMG I'm posting something.

I know it's been over a month since I last posted and it had been a while before that. It's just... the pressure... the pressure got to me.

But you know what? I'll get into that more in another post.

Because today's post is for something else. It's for GOOBER!

Today is Goober's 6th birthday. SIX! My baby, my last child, my youngest. He's six. It boggles my mind how fast the time has flown by.

So, of course, we must have another birth story.

Goober was scheduled. It was a Friday. My doctor wanted me to schedule him for Thursday but I refused, not wanting his birthday to be a day of mourning for the rest of the country. I remember she seemed irritated by that. Whatev.

That Thursday night, as memorial programming graced our TV, I folded laundry and scrubbed the floors. I washed the bathroom, I dusted the windowsills, I made sure every dish was put away and everything in place for when we brought our brand new baby home. I didn't get even a wink of sleep. Because, really, who sleeps when they know they're going to have a new person the very next day??

We arrived at the hospital at some ridiculous hour. It was still dark outside. I was dressed in my favorite maternity shirt and our bags were packed. Sitting in the hospital bed, all hooked up to monitors and waiting for the doctor to get there and perform my Cesarean, I carefully applied makeup and made sure my hair looked great. I knew people would be taking pictures and for ONCE I was going to be prepared.

As the sun came up, family began arriving. Our hospital room was filled with all the people who loved us, all fresh faced and excited. Before long, The Man was dressed up in some weird meshy get-up, and I was being wheeled into the operating room. Yeehaw!

I sort of wish The Man was writing this because his perspective of the whole thing is so much different than mine. His involves blood and a screaming purple alien and a horrible fear that I would die.

Mine is much less gory.

Perhaps from lack of sleep or a bad reaction to the anesthesia or who knows what else, I had to continuously ask my poor anesthesiologist for one of those little barf trays while they prepped me. It never stopped. Luckily I had followed directions and not eaten anything for 12 hours so it was nothing but water. Oh how fun.

It all seems like a blur... not as clear to me as when Munchkin was born. The Man was very attentive... perhaps a little horrified at what was going on around him.... and before I knew it we heard him cry.

And yes, he was screaming and purple, but somehow my heart grew again and made room for another love of my life.

It wasn't a perfect delivery, though. I was reacting badly to anesthesia and caused The Man some huge amount of worry. Poor Goober had a ton of fluid in his lungs that had to be cleared out and all in all we had the nurses running around in a small panic.

Once my vomiting was under control and I was simply an odd shade of greenish blue and shaking uncontrollably, I was deemed a-ok and ready to head back to see my family. Goober was already in the room being fawned all over by everyone.

And he certainly was adorable.

And he still is!